Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part II
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Part III
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
To be continued...
Glossary
Acknowledgments
About the Author
JMJ
FOURTH WORLD: Book One of the Iamos Trilogy
Copyright © 2015 by Lyssa Chiavari.
Published by Snowy Wings Publishing
snowywingspublishing.com
Cover designed by Najla Qamber Designs.
Model photos by Mosaic Stock Photography.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
FOR THE LEOPARDS:
reach for the stars
The sky looked red.
That was all I could think as I gazed out over the desiccated plain. The once-gray rocks and boulders, strewn about the old dry coastline, were now almost completely covered with rust. Orange-tinged clouds swirled above my head, the air thick with choking dust kicked up by the harsh wind that raked over the parched ground.
Even though we'd been forbidden to leave the safety of the citidome, I’d decided to take the risk that night. I had wanted to see the sunset—really see the sunset—for what could be the last time. It had been so long since I’d seen the sky, I couldn’t remember what it looked like.
But I certainly hadn’t expected it to be so red.
The oxygen was too thin. It made breathing difficult, painful. I couldn't believe how quickly it was depleting now, at the end. Last year on my annual we’d still been able to go outside. But now we had to huddle in our enclosed cities, looking out at the world through the tinted filter of smooth blue glass. And even that option wouldn't last much longer. The world really was ending.
It was much too soon. This was the first day of my eighth year, my enilikin. I still had my whole life ahead of me. I hadn’t even completed my schooling yet, thanks to Gitrin. It would be at least another year, now, before I was ready to take my place in the ranks of the geroi.
But in their last report, the scientists said that our planet couldn't sustain us another year. My heart stuck in my throat at the thought. Standing here, looking at this, I knew it to be true. Sometime in the next six-hundred days the last of our atmosphere would be gone. The energy sources used to power the citidome would be entirely depleted. And if the colony on Hamos wasn’t stabilized—if we didn’t complete evacuation by that time—we'd all be dead.
I’d be dead. Before I even got a chance to live.
We needed more geroi. And still she told me I wasn’t ready. Everything was so hideously unfair.
I shivered as the biting wind dragged over me, pulling wisps of colorless hair loose from the tight braid encircling my scalp. There was the briefest hint of the fragrance of flowers on the wind’s breath, but it was overpowered by the dry, metallic scent of the ever-reddening earth. What if this was the last time I’d ever smell Iamos? The last time I’d ever see the sun, or the sky, without something in between me and it?
No.
I took a final shuddering breath, and, tucking a flyaway hair behind my ear, I made my decision. I was not giving up. It was not over. No matter what it took, this would not be my last annual.
It was only as I turned to head inside that I saw him.
I might have missed him otherwise, but the light from the setting sun threw his form into relief. A boy was sprawled across the ground. He wore no breathing apparatus. He was completely unprotected. And he wasn’t moving.
Panicked, I raced to his side. I was out of breath by the time I reached him, even though he lay only a short distance away. “Are you all right?” I asked, wheezing. When he didn’t respond, I rolled him over onto his back.
He was young—probably close to my own age. I realized instantly he couldn’t be from my city; his traits were all wrong. He must have come from another citidome. But how? He couldn’t have walked. All that way, unprotected? He would never have made it…
I reached for my earpiece, then hesitated. I was invisible right now—the System couldn’t track me—but if I called for help, I’d be back online and the geroi would know I’d broken the edict. Not to mention that it could draw their attention to the fact that my earpiece had been altered. Ceilos would never forgive me.
But there was no way I could shift this boy’s dead weight on my own, not when I was already feeling the effects of the thin air.
Before I could give myself a chance to change my mind, I pressed the button. “Gerouin Melusin,” I called.
“Nadin?” Melusin’s voice was soft in my ears, like the drip of water in the caverns.
There was no time for explanations. “I need help outside the dome,” I said as calmly as possible.
“‘Outside’?” she repeated, her gentle voice faltering almost imperceptibly. “What are you doing—”
“Just hurry,” I interrupted her, breathless. “I found someone out here. He’s injured.”
The gerouin said nothing more, simply disconnecting. I turned back to the boy. He was still unconscious, but he was breathing—barely. I crouched to get a better look at him. His hair was coated with the red dust that the wind kicked up in swirling eddies, but I could see it was curly and dark. His skin, on the other hand, appeared bleached like an old man’s, even though he was clearly young. Could unprotected exposure to solar rays have done this? The atmosphere was so thin now…
I inhaled shakily, my lungs burning. It was already painful for me to be outside, and I couldn’t have been out for more than five minutes. This boy… how did he get here?
The sun’s warmth melted over me as I stepped off the bus. I paused for a moment, blinking away the startling brightness of the open air after the dim confines of the school bus. It was near the end of April II—our spring April—of my junior annum, but it was weird for it to be this warm on Mars, even during the summer months. As my classmates filed off the vehicle behind me, I rolled up my long thermal sleeves. Here in the hills, the wind was stronger, with a cooling bite, but the undercurrent of warmth to the day was still unmistakable. I grinned in spite of myself.
“Right, right, everyone, keep clear of the steps, we need to get everyone off the bus if we’re ever going to get moving with this,” my homeroom teacher, Mr. Johnson, yelled over my classmates’ chatter. “Henry, that means you. Isaak! Would you plea
se do something about your partner in crime?”
I started at the sound of my name and glanced over my shoulder. At the foot of the bus steps, a stocky kid with long black hair and a faded t-shirt that proclaimed “FREE MARS” in what was once bold red text was streaming music on his earpod loud enough to be heard five meters away, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.
Turning back to Mr. Johnson, I shrugged. “I don’t know what you expect me to do about him.”
“I suppose it would be too much to ask you to make him behave for the rest of the day,” said Mr. Johnson. “But for a start, you can move him.”
I rolled my eyes and tromped back toward the bus. “Come on.” I nudged Henry away from the steps.
“What? What’d I do this time?”
He looked up and caught Mr. Johnson’s eye. They exchanged matching glares.
“That guy’s got it in for me,” Henry complained.
I opened my mouth to answer, but broke off as my other best friend, Tamara, elbowed her way between the two of us. “Well, maybe if you didn’t get called into the principal’s office every other day,” she pointed out reasonably.
“I’m only in the principal’s office every other day because he”—Henry gestured toward Mr. Johnson—“has it in for me.”
“Right.” Tamara’s reply was more of a laugh than a word. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with your conscientious homework objections, or your habit of leaving class early, or the anti-government graffiti in the boy’s bathroom that I heard about last week.”
As she spoke, she glanced knowingly over at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. My heart lurched momentarily, and I—discreetly, I hoped—urged it to settle back into its regular pattern. For the amount of time I spent with Tamara on almost a daily basis, you’d think I’d manage to not go into full spaz-mode every time I saw her.
Yeah. You’d think.
Fortunately, she hadn’t seemed to notice my suddenly red face. Henry certainly hadn’t. He was too busy complaining.
“Tamara,” he said solemnly, “as conscientious citizens of Mars, we have an obligation to future generations to prevent this world from falling into the cycle of imperialism that destroyed so many lives on Earth. I’m simply providing an alternative to the narrative being forwarded by the administration, to prevent the further spread of misinformation. Graffiti is the people’s tool, you know.”
He was off again. Tamara shot me a pained expression and I shrugged. She should have known better than to get him started on one of his rants.
I moved a few paces away, craning my neck to get a better look at the red hills around us. From up here, Tierra Nueva seemed to spread out before me: a small valley crammed with a rambling mishmash of tightly clustered buildings and, in the center of town where the rivers converged, the clump of high rises that made up the AresTec complex on Sparta Island. The valley was blanketed in a filmy gray haze from the factory district on the edge of town, blurring the details, but in the distance I could just see the sun glinting off the waters of Escalante Bay.
I jammed my hands in my pockets and breathed in deeply through my nose. It was nice out here, where the air smelled fresh and the acrid scent of the factory exhaust was just a wispy memory. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Okay, everyone, eyes and ears up here!” The chattering voices around me tapered off at Mr. Johnson’s shout. “We’ve got a lot to get through today, so I’m just going to go ahead and turn this show over to Dr. Luna here, if everyone would please”—he narrowed his eyes at the lot of us—“give her your attention.”
A tall woman with black hair reaching almost to her knees stepped forward, smiling at us. “Hello, everybody, I’m Professor Clara Luna. Thank you for coming all the way out here to visit us today. I understand you’re having Career Week at your school right now. How has that been going for you?”
The group grumbled noncommittally. Career Week was the week-long round of field trips that the junior class at the Academy had to take every year to help pick their study emphases for senior annum. All week, we’d been visiting different “high-need” areas in the peninsula, to help the undecided kids figure out what they wanted to do with their lives—the ones who hadn’t had that predetermined for them by a scholarship committee like Henry and I had, anyway. On Monday they’d dragged us to the GSAF branch in the city, and yesterday we’d taken a tour of AresTec’s newly-completed offices. Today, they’d switched things up by busing us out to this isolated site in the hills that divided the peninsula into its east and west halves. It would have made a great horror flick premise—a group of teens brought to the middle of nowhere, only to be massacred where we stood!—but it was nothing as exciting as that. Instead, they were apparently planning to bore us to death with a presentation from these Kimbal University professors who were doing some kind of geology survey out here. But at least it got me out of Earth Lit for a week.
Mr. Johnson rolled his eyes at my classmates’ lack of enthusiasm, but Dr. Luna seemed undaunted. “It’s good to see so many fresh faces out here today,” she said, her smile never wavering for an instant. “What we’re working on is a very exciting project that is helping us to learn more about our planet’s past, which in turn will help us understand how to shape the future of Mars. I’m one of the co-leads on this project. My associate should be coming along any second—”
“I’m here, I’m here,” a man’s voice broke in, and a moment later its owner popped up over the top of the sloping crater behind her. He was tall and dark, with a head of thick black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache to match. My breath hissed in through my teeth, louder than I meant it to. Henry and Tamara both looked at me.
“What’s your problem?” Henry whispered.
“That guy.” I nodded in the direction of the newcomer. “He’s—”
“Hello, everyone,” the man said over me. He brushed off his dirt-encrusted hands on the sides of his pants. “Sorry I’m late. There’s always so much to do on a dig like this. Anyway, my name is Professor Erick Gomez, I’m the head researcher for this field survey.”
“Wait, that Erick Gomez?” Henry whispered. “That tool your mom’s dating now?” Tamara winced sympathetically in my direction as I nodded.
Maybe I was being unfair. I suppose I hadn’t really known Erick long enough to know, objectively, if he was actually a tool or not. Mom had only introduced him to me and Celeste a couple of weeks ago. Although, from the way they were acting, I suspected they’d been seeing each other for a while before Mom told us about him. I mean, they’d worked together as long as we’d lived in Tierra Nueva. They had plenty of opportunity.
And I couldn’t really begrudge her dating again. After all, Dad was the one who’d abandoned us all so unceremoniously two annums ago, during my first term at the Academy. Considering the fact that he hadn’t contacted me or Celeste once since he’d left, it was obvious he was only concerned with his own happiness. So why shouldn’t Mom be happy, too?
It was just weird to have some new guy showing up at the house all the time. Especially since this one was so… different from how Dad had been.
“I’m sure most of you are wondering what exactly we’re working on way out here in the middle of nowhere,” Erick said, smiling with way too many teeth. “It might not look like much, but it’s actually very exciting. This study is continuing work begun by the first Mars landers sent from Earth over a hundred years ago.”
“Riveting,” Henry muttered. I snickered.
“As you all know, we humans have not been on Mars for very long. There’s still a lot to learn about our new home. And here, we’re using geological methods to do just that. We’re studying the planet’s past, specifically its atmospheric makeup over the millennia and behavior of ancient and precolonial waterways. Our data will enable modern scientists currently working on Phase Three of terraformation to better understand what challenges to expect while adapting the planet for life now.”
As Erick spok
e, Dr. Luna started leading the group of us down a trail that wound between ditches of varying size. A few of these had groups of people working inside them with shovels and picks, but most were empty and roped off—to keep us from wandering around inside them, I guess.
“This site we’re currently excavating is fascinating for two reasons. First of all, it’s the site of an ancient stream bed, which provides us with information about how water behaved on Mars in the past, and what sort of organic material it supported. We’ve already found fossil evidence of early ancestors of the modern spider weed, as well as extinct forms of Martian flora, and even primitive fauna. We’re hoping to uncover more evidence of other ancient lifeforms that might have existed here before atmospheric degradation set in.”
My arms were still crossed, but I have to admit, he caught my interest with “fossil.” Against my better judgment, I found myself paying a bit more attention to Erick’s little spiel.
I might never have noticed it otherwise.
Erick had turned to face the group of us, walking backward and gesturing here and there like some kind of tour guide. “The second reason this site is so interesting is that the entire hills are pockmarked with craters from various meteor impacts over millions of years. The crater walls left behind can give us a snapshot of Mars’ geological processes over time.” He indicated a smallish crater to his right that appeared to have been widened by the dig crew. The sides of the hole were striped, with a variety of different-colored rocks mashed together. It almost looked like Neapolitan ice cream, I thought as I glanced absently down at the bottom of the trench.
Then I froze.
On the crater floor, carefully dug out from the dirt by Erick’s crew, was a pile of smooth-topped stones stacked in the shape of an arch.
I cleared my throat. “Hey, Eri—uh, Professor Gomez,” I interrupted.
He stared for a moment. Then recognition washed over him and he grinned at me. “Oh, Isaak. Did you have a question?”
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