That meant required. Esme sighed. She would have to attend the meeting, then fly out to Amana to face her sister. A meeting like this should have been inevitable. She knew damn well it wasn’t out of concern for the company but out of the board’s concern for itself. They wanted to know what new power structures she would bring to the company. What new games she would play. If she was weak, or if she was strong, without the presence of her father always lurking overhead.
“Please confirm here if you’ll be able to attend,” Asenka said, just as a message screen appeared, floating near her head. Yes, I’ll be there versus No, not this time. Esme stared at it for a moment. She knew it was only the illusion of a choice. Say no, and the board would descend on her. She’d be out of power before her father’s death.
She was going to have to prepare something, too. Some show of strength. She already knew what it would be, because she’d been preparing for it for the last five years. Perhaps it was a bit premature. She didn’t care. She could work around the problems.
She looked at the door leading out to the hall, the door Will was waiting on the other side of. She thought of the last time she’d seen Isabel. The entire night had been red with flames.
Esme confirmed her attendance.
• • •
Esme made sure she arrived at the board meeting fifteen minutes early, a guarantee that the board would not attempt to pass any decisions without her presence. Doing so was technically forbidden, of course, as she was now CEO, but that had never stopped anyone in the Coromina Group from playing their games when it was prudent.
She was not the first to arrive; Miguel was there already, but she wasn’t worried about him. He gave her a quick smile of solidarity, which she returned. Then she slid into the chair at the head of the table. Her father’s chair.
Not anymore, she reminded herself.
Esme took a deep breath. She set up her lightbox. Then she reached under the table and found the button that would turn the windows transparent, so they would have a view of the landscape during the meeting. A small thing, but it would let in the reddish light of Coromina I, which was waning in the west. A reminder to the rest of them of who she was, where she came from.
She had her plan. It was not going to make the board happy. It wasn’t going to make her father happy, either. But she’d been preparing for this moment for a long time.
“How’s it feel?” Miguel asked as the dark tint in the windows slowly faded away. He leaned forward over the table, his eyes bright. “Being CEO?”
Esme paused, considering. “I’ve been expecting this since I was a little girl,” she finally said. “But I still didn’t expect it to happen so soon.”
Miguel nodded sagely. What Esme did not tell him was that the knowledge that an entire planetary system was now her responsibility was like an ocean pressing down on top of her. She did not tell him that nearly thirty years earlier, she had promised herself that she would keep her sisters safe, and she had failed at that. What business, then, did she have protecting the people of the Four Sisters?
The door swung open; it was Kara Bewick Skillings, the oldest member of the board. A potential ally, too, as she had no real interest in a true leadership position within the company. She had been a friend of Esme’s father early in his career; she had taken the same rejuvenation treatments as him, so although she was two hundred and fifty, she looked as if she were in her forties, a sleek curtain of silver hair the only real acknowledgment of her advanced age. She nodded at Esme and Miguel, gave her congratulations.
Esme’s heart thudded. She took deep, paced breaths, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious. The other board members trickled in, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs. Esme took notice of the order, of the partnerships—Martin Lieb and Tyrel Shew could be a problem, as could Ollie Mata. When Flor DeCrie breezed in, her hair curled and teased so that it draped around the line of her neck like she was some Amanan immersion star, Esme felt herself go stiff. She had not seen Flor in years. She had always delegated any necessary interactions with her. But she was not going to let Flor’s presence unravel her.
Flor slid into the seat near Esme and flashed her a bright smile. She didn’t look any older than she had thirteen years before. Esme knew that she did; she had only started her rejuvenation treatments two years earlier, when she turned forty. Flor had always been meticulous with hers.
“I was so happy to hear the news,” Flor said through bared teeth.
“So was I,” Esme said. She was not going to think about what she had done to Isabel.
What her father had done to Isabel.
What she had done to Isabel.
When the last board member slid into the room, Esme did not waste any time. She looked coolly out at the board, meeting the gaze of all eight of them, including Flor. Flor’s eyes glinted like diamonds. Had some part of her thought she might make CEO someday if she did everything Esme’s father asked of her, even the unthinkable?
“Let me begin,” Esme said, “by thanking Asenka Wymer for suggesting we have this meeting. I agree that it’s prudent to discuss our positions going forward, now that my father has stepped down from his position.”
Some of the board members nodded; Esme made note of which ones.
“With that in mind,” Esme said, “I’ll hand the reins over to Asenka so that she can state any questions or concerns she might have.”
Always good to start with a show of generosity. To not let them know she understood what this meeting was really about: a way of undermining her power.
Asenka coughed into her fist. “Yes, thank you, Ms. Coromina. I don’t have concerns, per se.”
Esme kept her expression blank.
“But I did want to get a sense of your plan for the company,” she continued. “Do you plan on continuing your father’s work?”
Esme’s heart pounded harder. Her face felt hot; sweat dripped along her spine. So, Asenka was going straight into it. She was not going to dance around the subject. She was going to lay everything in the open.
Everyone, including her father, expected the answer to that question to be yes. Her father had not died yet; he would still want to exert control over the company. And she would let him, in certain ways. But not in this one way. She couldn’t do it anymore. She had decided this nearly five years earlier, when she started up the immortality research, hiring scientists who were loyal to her and who understood that the immortality work was a temporary cover for her real plans.
“For the most part,” Esme said.
The board members shifted in their seats. Exchanged glances. Murmured to one another.
“Oh?” Asenka tilted her head, eyes curious. “And what does that mean, exactly?”
Esme took a deep breath. She gazed down the table. She had never seen this room from this position before. The window opposite her looked out in the direction of where Star’s End had been. It was already overgrown, a green tangle hiding the charred remains of her childhood home. She could see the village, though, the little houses like toys among the greenery.
When Esme spoke, her throat was dry and scratchy. Her head spun. She kept her gaze fixed on the ghost of Star’s End.
“I’m shutting down weapons manufacture,” Esme said.
FOURTEEN YEARS EARLIER
Dad wanted to see me, which couldn’t mean anything good. Anytime he called me into his suite at Star’s End, it meant bad news. A potential security breach somewhere in the lower tiers of the company. OCI uncovering classified company secrets. He was transferring me out of Planet Maintenance and into Genetics.
I sat on his sofa, waiting for him. The windows were propped open, an electronic insect screen buzzing in the background. Occasionally, a bug would fly into it and it would let out a snap like a piece of plastic breaking in half. It was the dry season, and the heat pressed down over Star’s End. I didn’t know why he had the window open. I was already sweating in my simple cotton clothes.
Dad strode in from the back of his s
uite. He glanced at me but didn’t say anything, just poured himself some water from the chilled pitcher sitting on the coffee table. “Want some?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Why is it so hot in here? Why do you have the windows open?”
“I like the heat.” He poured me a glass. These days, he treated me like one of his trusted employees. “When you get as old as me, you need it, like a lizard. The rejuvenation treatments only go so deep. You should start thinking about starting those, by the way. Twenty-eight is pushing it.”
He handed me the water and I took it and drank greedily. “Maybe I’ll start a new trend of looking older.” I wanted out of this room. Sweat beaded around my forehead. Dad didn’t laugh, only frowned, then dropped the subject.
“So, I wanted to talk with you about something.” Dad sat on the couch beside me, crossing his ankle over his knee. No shit, I thought, but I knew better than to say anything.
“About Isabel, specifically,” he said. “I think it’s time we get her an internship.”
I frowned. Isabel was only fourteen. “Isn’t she too young?”
“She’s about the age I was when I had my first job,” Dad said. “Working on the Martian docks. I guarantee a cushy internship in the Psych department will be a hell of a lot safer.”
“The Psych department?” A strange choice for a fourteen-year-old. Psychology was a euphemism, really, for what they did—it was the propaganda department, a subset of the company focused on deciding the best ways to make changes and reveal information to the citizen-employees of the Four Sisters with minimal outcry.
“They need an admin,” Dad said, shrugging. “Someone to help with filing and the like. It’ll be easy work, and it’ll give her something to do besides watching Amanan dramas all day.”
I looked over at the window, at the insect screen letting off its thick, wavy lines of energy. An admin in the Psych department. I looked at this decision from all angles, trying to see what Dad really wanted there. But I found nothing. Psych was actually responsible for the dramas Isabel loved so much, so it made sense, in a weird sort of way, to place her there. Admin work was pretty typical for a first internship. Both Adrienne and Daphne had just started theirs, too, Adrienne at Terraforming and Daphne in Planetary Resources. It felt too altruistic for Dad, to have all three of them start around the same time, but perhaps he had some self-serving reason for doing so. I studied him, trying to read his face the way I could clients. But he was always unreadable.
“You don’t approve?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I know you’ve taken it on yourself to be mother to those girls.”
“You mean your daughters?” I snapped back.
Dad didn’t even flinch.
“I just don’t understand why you want to start her so young,” I finally said, leaning back against the sofa. “I mean, fourteen?”
“She’s old enough,” Dad said. “I want their positions in the company squared away. If it makes you feel any better, you can oversee her internship. Make sure Flor DeCrie isn’t mistreating her.”
“Flor?” I frowned. “Why the hell is Flor her supervisor?”
Dad sipped from his glass. “She transferred there last year,” he said. “Wanted a change of scenery.”
I sighed. Psych was a strange department for someone who had once worked out at Catequil. At least Dad had been up front about it. “That does make me feel better,” I told him, glad it was someone I’d worked with. Flor was generally willing to listen, to reach agreements. “Thank you.”
Dad nodded, stood up. “Then it’s settled. I’ll speak to Isabel, let her know the plan. I hope to get her started in the next few days.”
I didn’t say anything, even though I thought he was moving too quickly. There had to be a reason for it—I just wished I could see what it was. At least he was going to let me keep an eye on her. That was something.
Dad moved across the room, toward the hallway. My cue to leave. I drank the last of my water and slipped out, back into the cool climate-controlled hallway. It was like stepping onto another world.
• • •
Two days later, I rode to work with Isabel. I felt uneasy with her scrunched up in the seat beside me, gazing out the window as the scenery bled by. She was as awkward as I had been at that age, but it was a different sort—she was gangly rather than hulking, a tangle of arms and legs that meant she’d probably grow up to look like her mother, just as I had grown up to look like mine.
“Are you nervous?” I asked her.
She shook her head, still staring out the window. I wondered if she was telling the truth.
“Good.”
“Daphne said it shouldn’t be that bad,” Isabel went on. She curled a piece of her glossy black hair around one finger. “And she said Psych puts out The Intensity of Days.”
“It does,” I said. “Maybe you’ll get to meet one of the actors.”
Isabel shrugged. “They all live on Amana, don’t they?”
“Yeah, but they come to headquarters sometimes.” This was a bit of a stretch, but I could tell she was nervous, even if she insisted she wasn’t. “So, you could get lucky.”
Isabel finally turned away from the window and looked at me. She studied me very closely, the way she always did with people, as if she were trying to memorize their features.
“Can I ask you something?” Isabel said.
“Of course.” I hoped it would be a question I could answer—the truth was, I didn’t know much about Psych. I’d been so wrapped in Genetics these last few years, as well as my personal PM projects, that I hadn’t paid it much mind.
“You know how I like to go into the woods? To visit the graveyard?”
I blinked, startled. What did this have to do with her internship?
“Well, I was out there the other day and I saw this man with some kind of machine, a lightbox, maybe, and he was scanning the trees and it was—weird.” She looked down at her lap, her hair falling around her shoulders. “He didn’t see me. I mean, I tried to stay hidden. But I just—do you think that’s why Dad is making me do this internship?”
I stared at her, bewildered. A man with a lightbox in the woods? What could that possibly have to do with an early internship? I had been part of the company long enough to know that you shouldn’t dismiss possible conspiracies as coincidence, but I couldn’t see the connection there at all. Even my own concern about Dad’s motivations didn’t fit.
“What did the man look like?” I finally asked.
“Just a guy,” Isabel said—quickly, I thought. “He was wearing a CG uniform.”
“It wasn’t one of the soldiers, was it?”
She shook her head, looked at me with dark, imploring eyes. “Why would he be scanning the trees?” she said. “It was so strange. Do you think the flu is back?”
I stiffened. No, it wasn’t the flu. I was high-ranked enough to know about that. But this, a man scanning the trees? I hadn’t heard anything. I wondered if it was related to Project X. Dad still hadn’t let me in on that one yet.
“Dad’s got something going on,” I said. “Very high-clearance. I imagine it’s related to that. But I can’t tell you anything more.”
“Because I don’t have the clearance?” Isabel asked.
“Because I don’t. I don’t know why that man was in the woods. If I hear anything, I’ll tell you, but until then—it’s not something you need to worry about, okay?” I wanted to tell her more, wanted to find out all the details I could, wanted to warn her to stay away from CG men in the forest. But we were almost to the office, and I didn’t want to scare her. I’d look into it on my own. She didn’t need to harbor company conspiracies. That was my job.
I had instructed John to bring us around to the Psych department rather than dropping me at the usual place. I hadn’t spent much time in the Psych building, not even during my PM days—PM was about making things easier for our citizen-employees, whereas Psych was really about making things easier for the company. It was a newer
building, a shining glass-and-stone structure that jutted out sharply against the backdrop of the orgobuildings that made up the rest of the campus. I glanced over at Isabel; she was staring out the window, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open.
“This is where Dad wants me to work?” she breathed.
“Apparently.” The car pulled to a stop and I stepped out. A hot, dry breeze ruffled my hair. Isabel scurried over to my side, tilting her head back, peering up through the trees. Coromina I rose over the horizon, an angry red bruise in the sky.
“The Luca configuration is close,” Isabel said without looking at me. “That means chaos, you know.”
I smiled, didn’t say anything. I never had the heart to tell her astrology was nonsense. But Isabel had it all worked out, how Adrienne and Daphne had been born when Catequil was approaching Coromina I, and so they were strong-willed and skeptical. Or how I had been born when Coromina I was ascending, which made me a natural leader.
“I’m not sure this was the best day to start my internship,” Isabel said.
“It’ll be fine.” I put my hand on the space between her shoulder blades and guided her toward the doors. They slid open with a sigh and we walked together into the Psych lobby, a big room filled with red-tinted sunlight, like all the lobbies in the Coromina Group. Flor was waiting for us. She looked the same as she had the last time I’d seen her, a few years before on Catequil, her skin glossy with the rejuvenation treatments.
“Esme!” she cried, strolling toward us. I put my hand on Isabel’s shoulder, wanting suddenly to protect her. How much did I know about Flor, really? We worked well together, but she’d always struck me as the ambitious type, and moving from Genetics to Psych was not an ambitious move. Maybe I could find some internship for Isabel in Genetics. She could file for me, not for Flor and whatever she was scheming about in Psych.
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