Ashfall prophecy, p.21
Ashfall Prophecy, page 21
That was so Mom.
The Denzans handled the situation delicately. They were reluctant to involve local authorities because that meant depending on humanity, who they were no longer sure they could trust. They didn’t want to risk anyone getting hurt by laying siege to my mom’s ranch. And, pretty soon, word reached them that I’d been returned to Denza, anyway.
So now I needed to fix things.
The last time I saw my mom—via wormhole-transmitted light-speed satellite—it looked like she’d really gotten her life together. I remember her sitting in a sleek Consulate office, dressed in a suit, looking like she’d actually gained a bit of weight.
All that had been reversed over the last few months. Even during our more desperate times on the run, my mom hadn’t looked this strung out. Her face was gaunt, hair tied back and greasy, dark circles like craters around her eyes. There was a big scab in the middle of her upper lip where it looked like someone had punched her. She wore a sweat-stained tank top and was vibrating when she first came on-screen, nervous energy like she was ready to fly into action at the first sign of a trap. A shotgun that she was holding across her lap occasionally appeared in the frame as she moved. Behind her were boarded-up windows, yellow slashes of sun highlighting the dust hanging in the air.
“Mom,” I said. “Hi. I’m okay. Everything is okay.”
I didn’t like opening with a lie, but that seemed like the right angle to take.
“Sydney, you’re . . .” She clapped a hand over her mouth, relieved tears filling her eyes. However, just as quickly as they appeared, those tears froze over as my mom squinted into the camera. “No. This is some kind of trick. A simulation.”
I sighed. “No, Mom, it’s me.”
“Tell me something only my son would know,” she barked at me. “Tell me—tell me how we spent your ninth birthday.”
“My ninth . . . ? Jesus Christ, Mom, I don’t remember that.”
She cocked the shotgun. “Stop playing games with me, Denza.”
“Wait, wait,” I said, squeezing my eyes closed like that would help me remember. “Ninth birthday? Was that Utah? I was Darren Drake, right? That was my alias. We went camping in the Red Rocks. You told me that I couldn’t get my present until I found water on my own and I had to climb down into that cave for it and I’m pretty sure I ended up drinking bat piss. And then, after all that, you said my present was a sense of accomplishment and self-sufficiency. Is that the right birthday?”
I opened my eyes and found that my mom’s expression had softened. She had two fingers on the screen of her own tablet now, as if she could touch my cheek across the galaxies.
“Oh, Syd, it is you,” she said. “You just look so much older. I thought . . . And I had a real present for you that year, too. A knife, I think.”
“Everyone’s always giving me knives,” I muttered.
“Where have you been?” My mom’s voice cracked. “You were gone so long and no one would tell me anything.”
My mouth opened and closed. I hadn’t exactly had time to prepare for this conversation. Considering my mom’s fragile state, and with the certainty that our call was being monitored by more people than just my uncle sitting nearby, I decided to go with a slightly tweaked version of the truth.
“I’m sorry about that. Our ship’s comms went down and we lost contact with the institute,” I said. And then I just came out with it. “I found Dad. Or I found his remains. He’s gone, Mom. He’s been gone for a long time.”
My mom’s narrow shoulders trembled. “But the signal? From the cosmological tether?”
“It was a glitch, basically. A, uh, phenomenon on the planet was keeping it active, even after Dad died. I can’t really explain it.” Actually, I didn’t want to explain it. She didn’t need to know about Ool’Vinn or my dad’s shambling corpse or his head getting pulverized into dust by Reno. “He’d been dead for a long time, Mom.”
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry you had to find that out,” my mom said. She shook her head, red-rimmed eyes looking down at the floor. “I always knew he wouldn’t just abandon us. Not if he had a choice. It’s good—it’s good that we finally know the truth.”
My throat tightened. My dad did have a choice and had decided to stay on Ashfall, to die there, in order to hide the Origin from the rest of the universe. Another thing that my mom didn’t need to know. Let her hold on to her idea that Marcius was a caring partner and father.
“Yeah,” I said weakly. “Now we know.”
My mom’s eyes sharpened, like she could tell that I was holding something back. “What about his research? What is going on up there? Why did they kick all of us out of the Consulate?”
I wanted to glance to my uncle for help, but I knew that if I looked off-screen my mom might jump to the conclusion that someone was holding a gun to my head or something. I kept my gaze steady.
“There’s no cure for the Wasting,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Word about that got around on Denza, and some of the humans . . . aren’t taking the news well. I guess that’s why they shut you guys out of the Consulate. Probably only until things get sorted out here, which I think will be soon.”
I’d turned into a real optimist all of a sudden. Guess that was what happened when your mom went full terrorist. You tried to keep things light.
“Your father was always so sure that he could fix things,” she said, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice. “Your grandfather. Rafe Butler. Those others like them. Always so sure a new dawn for humanity was on the horizon.”
“Well . . .” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Tycius shift uncomfortably. “I mean, something like that could still happen, Mom. You’ve got to have hope. What would you think . . . what would you think of leaving Earth? Of coming up here to be with me?”
My mom scoffed at the notion. “They’ll never let me up, Syd. Especially not after . . .” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sure they told you what happened.”
“You mean the guy you kidnapped? Yeah. You should probably cut him loose, Mom. I’m alive. The Denzans weren’t trying to hide anything from you. It was all a big misunderstanding.”
“Do you hear that?” My mom looked at someone off-screen, her lips curled back over her teeth. “My son is kindhearted. He’s sticking up for you.”
In response, I heard muffled pleading. Her captive was trying to communicate through a gag.
“Listen, Mom, you have to stop,” I said. “You were upset that the Denzans were keeping you in the dark. But I’m back now. I’ll call you on the regular. You won’t have to worry about me like that again. And, since you haven’t hurt anyone too badly and since I’m such a valued student at the Serpo Institute,” I added for the people I’m sure were listening, “I bet the Denzans will let this all blow over.”
“Stop talking to me like I’ve lost my mind,” my mom snapped. “I’m not crazy.”
“No,” I said. “Of course not.”
But I had a sudden vision of my mom grabbing me by the shoulders and shoving me underwater in order to prove that I was part extraterrestrial. She’d felt she was justified then, just like she thought she was justified now. Something of that memory must have shown in my face, my eyes, because the hardness in my mom’s glare shattered and she put her face in her hands. The shotgun on her lap clattered to the floor.
“Oh God, Syd, I’m sorry . . . ,” she said, shoulders shaking. “I lost control. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a nightmare and I don’t know how to wake up.”
“It’s okay, Mom, it’s over now,” I said, feeling like words from light-years away just weren’t enough. “I love you. You’re okay.”
We watched on livestream as my mom released her hostage, then sat in the harsh sun of the ranch’s front porch and waited for authorities from the Consulate to move closer to the house. She walked them through disarming the booby traps on the road. We said our good-byes before they took her into custody.
I felt completely drained. Tycius and I walked slowly along the Senate chamber’s upper level, heading back toward the train platform.
“You did good,” Tycius said, resting his hand on my shoulder.
“Did I?” I replied, shaking my head. “I just don’t know with her. She wasn’t always like that, you know? Or . . . maybe she was and I just couldn’t see it. I know it’s fucked up, but all I kept thinking while we were talking is how lucky I am to have gotten away.”
My uncle squeezed my shoulder. “Families are complicated, Syd. I don’t have to tell you that. But she loves you. She always did what she thought was best, which is all any of us can do.”
“What do you think is going to happen to her?” I asked.
“I’m speaking with the Consulate’s director of personnel today,” Tycius said as we reached the train platform. “I doubt I’ll be able to get her old job back, but hopefully they can find some way to make use of her. I won’t let them cut her off completely. She knows too much for that to happen, anyway. And given your cooperation with Senator Forma, you being our only eyes and ears on Little Earth—I think that’s worth some special consideration.”
“Well, if you’re pulling strings, I don’t want any of the Eastwood’s crew to be kicked out of the institute,” I said. “Not even Batzian, if he decides he wants to come back.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Tycius said with a nod. “You’re sure you want to return to Little Earth?”
“I think that’s the best place for me to be right now,” I replied. “Rafe’s planning to march on Primclef tomorrow. I should be close to him when he does.”
My uncle left me on the platform, where an empty train waited to take me back to Little Earth. I didn’t get on right away. Instead, I went to the overlook to check on the platform below, where earlier I’d seen the empty exo-suit being removed from the train. Things had returned to normal. Still, something bothered me about that scene. My mom’s words repeated in my head.
Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a nightmare and I don’t know how to wake up.
I was lost in thought so at first I didn’t notice Melian down there. She was waving her arms back and forth to get my attention, earning annoyed looks from the commuting Denzans who needed to get around her. I blinked, smiled, and waved back. Looking over my shoulder, I figured there was probably a simple enough way down from my private platform to the public one below, but I didn’t want to bump into any senators or security personnel, and I assumed I was probably being watched.
So I pulled a Hiram.
I waited for a break in the passersby below and then vaulted over the railing. It was a twenty-five-foot drop, but I landed softly with my knees bent, barely feeling the shock in my heels. Some nearby Denzans gasped and shouted as I dropped out of the sky and, so as not to make a bigger scene, I put my arm around Melian and led her onto a train just as its doors were closing.
“Wow,” she said, her cheeks flushing a light shade of purple, “the stairs were, like, right there.”
“Sorry,” I said, dropping my arm away as we stood in the train’s entrance, leaning against the closed doors. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to be free-roaming around Primclef, so I thought I should go ninja mode. What are you doing here, Mel?”
“Trying to see you, obviously,” she replied. “I heard you were visiting the Senate today and wanted to talk to you, but they wouldn’t let me up. My sneaking-in skills aren’t quite Zara-level.”
“No one’s are,” I replied.
Melian leaned into the walkway to check the digital map projected from the train’s ceiling. “Jeez, where are we going, anyway?”
I didn’t have a destination in mind when we boarded the train, but things clicked together in my brain and I suddenly had an answer. “Have you ever heard of a place called Remembrance?”
“No,” Melian replied, then looked the place up on her wrist-console before I could explain. She glanced back at the map. “We’re going to have to transfer to a different train. Why do you want to go there? Do you think Aela might be . . . ?”
I shook my head. “It’s a hunch, honestly. Something I hope that I’m wrong about.” I awkwardly pushed a hand through my hair, realizing that I’d just dragged Melian onto a train without even saying hi. “So, uh, what’s up with you?”
“Oh, not much,” she replied, rocking back on her heels and smiling up at me. “Happy to be included on an adventure for once.”
“I mean, hopefully this isn’t an adventure and just a waste of our time,” I said.
“Either way,” she replied cheerily. “I also thought you’d want to see this.” Melian leaned close so we could both look at her wrist-console. She called up an encrypted message that had been sent to her private account early that morning.
Batzian appeared on-screen, looking more repressed than ever—his ponytail had somehow achieved a new level of tightness, not a single white strand out of place. He’d also donned one of those Merciful Rampart uniforms, the black-and-red fabric drawn up all the way to his chin.
“Hello, sister,” Batzian said into the camera. “I noticed that the Eastwood was among the ISVs stationed above Little Earth, which means that the waves have brought us both back to Denza. I hope you’re safe. Things are . . . different with this crew. My life doesn’t feel constantly in danger, that’s true. I suppose that’s what I wanted. But they are afraid. Always so afraid of the humans. And that fear, it makes them . . .” Batzian glanced over his shoulder, like he was worried someone might walk in on him. He wrapped the message up quickly. “I regret how we left things. I hope we can meet in Primclef.”
“Great,” I said as the message ended. “So the Merciful Rampart are here, too.”
“Do you think they’re going to crash the Senate meeting?” Melian asked.
“Of course they are,” I said. “It’ll be perfect. Rafe, Arkell, probably Reno, too—everyone can get together and talk out their differences.” I shook my head. “Forget all that, though. What are you going to do about that message? Are you going to, like, meet Batzian for lunch or something?”
“I don’t know,” Melian replied. “I’ve never been apart from my brother for this long before. I do miss him.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” I said.
“But . . .” Melian wormed her finger under her collar, twisting it around her necklace. She still wore the morbid knucklebones that she’d been given on the Torrent. “Have you ever spent so much time around a person that, without even realizing it, you kind of let them shape who you are? And then, when you’re apart, it’s like you can finally be yourself?”
I thought about my mom, sweaty and wild-eyed, holding some Denzan bureaucrat at gunpoint. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. It’s how I felt when I first came to the Eastwood.”
Melian flashed a relieved smile. “He’s my brother. Of course I’ll see him. But . . . I don’t know. I kind of like who I am more when Batzian isn’t around. Is that horrible?”
“Not at all,” I said, shaking my head. “You know, he didn’t look too happy in that message. I bet Batzian is feeling the same thing as you, except he likes himself less when you aren’t there to balance him out. I don’t think your brother really understands himself—I know what that’s like, too. Maybe seeing you will help him realize that. Especially since you’re totally thriving.”
I winced at how much I sounded like a bad advice column, but Melian didn’t seem to notice. She pushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Indefinite suspension from the institute, afraid to call home, weirdly attached to wearing bones—you think I’m thriving?”
“Totally,” I said with a grin. “Your whole vibe is like—Come at me, world. I’m the cool twin.”
Melian rolled her eyes, but there was a new flush of purple in her cheeks. She glanced at the map. “We’ve got to transfer at the next stop.”
With Melian navigating, we reached Remembrance’s sector in about thirty minutes. I caught some weird looks from the Denzans on the way—pretty much every human was sequestered on Little Earth, so I was truly an oddity—but those side-eyes turned to nods of recognition and relief once they realized I was a hybrid. Suddenly, everyone loved a hybrid.
“How did you know about this place?” Melian asked as we rounded the corner.
“Aela brought me here,” I said. “They wanted to show me what happened to contaminated Ossho.”
Remembrance was in a quiet, residential neighborhood in one of Primclef’s southern sectors. I felt like something was off right away. When I’d last visited Remembrance, there had been a line around the block—the neighborhood’s older Denzans waiting their turn for the exiled Ossho to let them relive their cherished memories.
There was no line. The blinds were drawn on the storefront’s big windows, and the front door swung ajar, its hinges broken. There was no one at all on the street. The windows on the surrounding buildings even had their shades drawn, like the whole block had gone into hiding.
Like I’m living in a nightmare.
The empty exo-suit I’d seen on the train platform.
The raid on Rafe’s stash.
“The Vulpin have been a good trading partner for me over the years,” Rafe had said.
That merchant on the Torrent, selling memories.
The pattern fit together.
“Shit,” I said. “I’m right.”
“What do you mean?” Melian asked. “About what?”
“I think I know what Reno is planning to do with Aela,” I said.
As we approached the front door of Remembrance, an old Denzan woman emerged from the doorway of the neighboring building. Her hands were nervously shoved into the sleeves of her sweater.
“I wouldn’t,” she said, indicating the door I was about to open. “I think he’s still in there. I thought about calling the authorities, but who would they send?”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Who’s in there?”
“The human.”
23
Obviously, I wasn’t going to listen to some old lady. I went inside.
