I jumped up after him. “I do love you!” I protested.
“Then why don’t you—” I flinched, and he lowered his volume. “Why don’t you want me?”
I had broken him. No, I had broken us. I could feel it as surely as the cold air around us, as the fading atmosphere outside the dome. Something was wrong with me, and it had ruined Ceilos and me forever. We could never go back.
I couldn’t stop the tears this time. They coursed freely down my face, burned my throat. “I don’t know,” I said.
Ceilos didn’t say another word. He just turned and left me there, alone in the dark. I slumped down to the floor, my face against my knees, my shoulders shaking with sobs. This had to be a bad dream. I’d wake up in the morning and Gitrin would be home. The last week would never have happened. There’d be no Isaak, no crisis on Hamos, no conflict with the geroi, no argument with Ceilos. We’d never be broken.
I’d never be broken.
I told myself over and over that it would be all right, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming. Because deep in my heart, I knew it was a lie.
“What’s your problem?” Isaak asked. “Are you still torqued at me for questioning your sainted geroi yesterday?”
“Yes,” I replied. I didn’t understand half of his words, but his tone said it all. “And you need to guard your tongue. You never know who might be listening.” I tapped my earpiece and looked pointedly at him. He rolled his eyes and slumped down in the hospital bed.
I sat on the empty bed next to his, scrolling through a System panel. There had to be a backup of the plans to the time postern somewhere. I just needed to find them. But I was having a hard time concentrating. I kept thinking about Ceilos. He hadn’t been in his rooms at the villa this morning, even though the System indicated that was his location. He must be offline somewhere. He wouldn’t answer any of the comms I sent him, though, so I couldn’t begin to guess where he really was.
I wondered if he would ever speak to me again. The thought made my stomach queasy.
I knew it wasn’t right, but a large part of me blamed Isaak for this. If it hadn’t been for the things he said in the plaza, I never would have brought any of it up to Ceilos. We could have kept on as we were. Nothing would have had to change.
But someday it would have, a small voice reminded me. Clearly this had been in Ceilos’ mind, though it had never crossed mine. Someday, when we were partners officially, this would have come up.
I stubbornly pushed the thought away. It might not have happened this way. This was still Isaak’s fault.
“What are you going to do if you can’t find the plans?” Isaak asked.
I whirled on him. “Why do you keep asking me questions like that? Why do you seem to think I always have the answers? I don’t know what I’m going to do, Isaak!”
He blinked. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You just… you act like you always know everything.”
I flicked the System panel away in annoyance and glared down at the peeling finish on the bed’s metal footboard.
In a softer voice, Isaak said, “You know, you don’t have to always have the answers. It’s okay to just say that you don’t know.”
“A gerouin should know,” I said. “A gerouin must be a leader.”
“Even the geroi are just people in the end, Nadin. Nobody’s perfect. Nobody knows everything.”
I thought about Melusin—always so poised, always so in control. For the first time, I wondered if she ever had doubts. If she ever questioned herself. If she ever fought with Antos. Somehow, I doubted it.
“So, where’s Ceilos at?” Isaak asked.
My chest clenched at the words. I sighed and said, “I don’t know. Just like everything else, I don’t know.” I flopped back on the hospital bed.
Isaak frowned, standing up and coming over to look down at me. “Nadin, are you sure you’re all right?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m fine, I just—”
A beeping sounded in my ear. “Incoming communication. Subject unknown,” said the System.
Isaak flinched, looking around the room. “What the heck is that?”
“I’m getting a comm.” Subject unknown—or just offline? I sat bolt upright and pressed the button on my earpiece. “Ceilos?”
“Kyrin Nadin,” said a voice I didn’t recognize. “Greetings.”
“Who is this?” I asked.
“The two of us have been weaving quite the twisted tapestry these last few days, haven’t we? Spinning round each other, warp and weft, sometimes passing just a hair’s breadth apart, but never quite… connecting. I thought it was about time we closed that gap.”
I sucked the breath in through my nostrils. “The Liberator?”
At that, Isaak’s eyes widened. He prodded me in the shoulder. I waved him off, but pressed another button on my earpiece to patch him in.
“Well, now I’m here,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “So what do you want? And where’s Gitrin?”
The man chuckled, an oddly familiar sound, but I couldn’t quite place it. “I think you know,” he said. “But that’s not what I want to discuss with you. We have very little time, kyrin—let’s make what time we do have count. You’ve been ignoring the messages I left for you all over the city. But can you ignore this?”
“Nadin, what if there was a way to save Iamos? What would you do?”
I gasped at the sound of Gitrin’s voice. Close after came another voice—higher than it sounded in my head, younger and less assured, but undeniably my own. “The geroi’s first priority is the protection of Iamos. If there were a solution, they would not refuse it.”
I cringed as the Liberator’s voice laughed over the top of the recording. “Your faith in the saviors of Iamos is inspiring, kyrin,” he said, voice dripping sarcasm.
“Where did you get that?” I tried to sound angry, demanding, but my voice faltered. “That evaluation was private.”
“Nothing escapes the System, kyrin. But I have to wonder—how strong is your faith? Enough to sacrifice Iamos, that much is clear. But perhaps those odds aren’t personal enough to you. What if it was someone closer to you? Gitrin wasn’t enough to move you—what about Isaak?”
My eyes flicked over to Isaak’s. His face was unreadable. He held his hand against his earpiece, as if that would help him listen—or at least understand—better. Before I could say anything, a new transmission began. I recognized Geros Antos’ voice. He and Melusin were supposed to be meeting with the gerotus, the united governing body of all of Iamos’ citidomes, this morning. I gripped the metal footboard so hard my knuckles ached. The Liberator had access to my evaluation, to private sessions of the gerotus—was there any part of the System he didn’t control?
“Medic Heros oversaw the genetic testing conducted on the subject his first evening in Hope Renewed,” Antos said. “Neurological behavior, blood type, genetic composition and other factors were analyzed thoroughly by the System. Medic, if you would please report your findings to the gerotus?”
“Yes, Geros,” the man said. I recognized his voice as the man who had been taking care of Isaak yesterday morning, when Melusin sent me back to the hospital. “Preliminary findings indicate that though this boy demonstrates differences in physical traits—particularly in regards to skin tone, hair color, facial features and so on—anatomically and genetically, there is no significant difference between him and the Iamoi. The primary differentiation is neurological. His brainwave patterns are unfamiliar, and they show little responsiveness to the System. But while the subject was unconscious, I did some testing with an electroencephalogram. I would need to conduct further studies to be sure, but his brain seems to be attuned to the electromagnetic wavelength that the System calculates as approximate Simoi levels.”
An unfamiliar woman’s voice said, “So the boy is from Simos.”
“It appears so, Gerouin,” replied Heros.
I shot a glance at Isaak as a new voice broke in—I recognized thi
s one as belonging to Tibros, Ceilos’ father. “But apart from the neurological patterns, you’re saying there is no genetic difference between the Iamoi and the Simoi?”
“No, Geros.”
The transmission wavered slightly at the sound of various murmuring voices blending together. Then Antos said, “What does this mean, then? That the Simoi are actually Iamoi?”
“That seems the most logical conclusion, Geros. The Simoi are descended from an ancient colonization effort, and their brains have evolved to tolerate Simos’ electromagnetic field.”
“Or the Iamoi are actually Simoi who lost their tolerance to the field,” Isaak said under his breath.
“What?” I whispered, but before he could elaborate, Melusin spoke.
“If this is the case, then it is possible we can use this boy’s sudden appearance to our advantage. Simos is the most hospitable of the other planets, far more suitable than Hamos. The magnetic field has been our only barrier so far—that, and the hostility of its current inhabitants. Having one of them here on Iamos where we can study him may prove to be the key to colonization on Simos. Conquering the field, subduing the natives—this may now be in our grasp.”
Isaak swallowed hard. “What are they going to do to me? They’re not going to… dissect me or something, are they?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Quiet, I’m trying to listen.”
Another of the geroi asked, “How soon can more tests be conducted on the subject?”
“As soon as the gerotus approves the procedure,” Melusin said. “He is still in the hospital level in Hope Renewed. I have assigned Nadin to guard him.”
Tibros cleared his throat. “Are you sure that’s wise, Melusin? Considering her… record?”
“I’m quite sure, Tibros. Nadin may be a simpleton, but she is absolutely loyal to the geroi. And she’s desperate to prove herself—enough that she wouldn’t think to question a direct order from the gerotus. At a time like this, that’s exactly what we need.”
My mouth opened involuntarily. A simpleton? Was this truly what the geroi thought of me? Not as an equal, but as a pawn?
“If there are no further remarks,” Antos said, “a motion to approve further study on the subject from Simos—”
Isaak pulled his earpiece out in disgust. “Well, are you satisfied now, Nadin? The geroi sure are looking out for Iamos’ best interests. They think you’re an idiot, and they want to fry my brain in a microwave so they can stage an invasion on Earth.”
I looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “You said you were from Iamos.”
He glared back at me. “I am from Mars,” he snapped. Then he folded his arms and looked away. “But I didn’t say that my parents were.”
I jumped to my feet, jabbing my index finger into his chest. “You lied to me! You are Simoi!” I froze, my hand hovering in midair. “But you live on Iamos in the future.” My hand curled limply into my chest, and I sat back down. “So what happened to the Iamoi?”
Isaak stared down at the floor, not answering for a long moment. “I… I didn’t want to tell you. When we came here, Mars… the planet was dead.”
And there I was again, back outside, gasping for breath in the wind-raked desert. Cold, numb and breathless. Dead. “Then the time postern is a failure. We’re… we’re all doomed.”
“Not necessarily, Nadin! I don’t really know how time travel works. Something could still—”
“Enough!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “Stop lying to me, Isaak! It’s over.” I couldn’t even summon the energy to cry this time. I just felt numb inside. Like I was already dead.
“So, kyrin. What will you do now?” the Liberator’s voice said in my ear. I jumped, startled—I’d forgotten he was there. I’d been so focused on Isaak, I hadn’t even noticed that the transmission from the gerotus had ended.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice feeling heavy.
“I want the same thing you do, kyrin,” the Liberator said. “What if there was a way to save Iamos?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “There’s not,” I snapped.
“Gitrin disagrees,” the Liberator said, “and she’s not the only one. Have you spoken to your partner recently?”
I froze as the meaning of his words hit me. I hadn’t seen him all day. What if…
“What do you know about Ceilos?” I asked.
The Liberator chuckled. “Don’t worry about him, kyrin. He’s safe.”
My fingernails dug into the soft skin of my palm. “Where is he?”
“Really, kyrin. Don’t prove the geroi right now. You’re smarter than that. Ceilos is with me. If you want him, you’re going to have to come to me. N’elytherios tou shenos.”
There was silence, and then the System told me, “Communication terminated.”
Isaak looked up at me, twisting his earpiece between his fingers. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped. “Initiate communication. Subject: Ceilos.”
“Subject Ceilos is unresponsive.”
My stomach twisted up. It was true. It had to be. First Gitrin, now Ceilos.
I was alone.
“Where are you going?” Isaak asked. I hadn’t even realized it, but I was already halfway out the door.
“I don’t know,” I said. “To rescue Ceilos.” I might not be able to save Iamos, but maybe I could at least save him.
“Wait, Ceilos?” Isaak hurried after me into the hallway. “You mean he has Ceilos now, too?” When I didn’t respond, he said, “But how are you going to find them?”
“I don’t know! All right? I don’t know, I don’t know.” I really was just a simpleton. How could I ever be a gerouin, when I never had the answers?
“Wait, Nadin—” Isaak put a hand on my shoulder. It was gentler than I expected, considering how angry I felt toward him. “Maybe I can help you.”
I brushed his hand away. “No one can help me. Just stay here, Isaak.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’m not going to just sit around and be their lab rat, Nadin. I’ll take my chances with the Liberator any day. Come on, we can figure this out together. Won’t you please trust me?”
“N’elytherios tou shenos,” I said, not listening to him. “Begin where we began, the answer is in plain sight…” My mind was a whirling wreck of the last day’s sights and sounds, fire in the sky, Gitrin’s ruined apartment, Ceilos’ hands on my skin in the dark classroom.
The classroom. I stopped midstep, Isaak colliding with me, nearly knocking me over. I gripped his arm, steadying myself, and hissed, “Begin where we began.”
Isaak blinked. “What does that mean?”
Still holding his arm, I launched forward, dragging Isaak behind me. “It means I think I finally know where I need to look.”
The villa was deserted. Melusin and Antos would still be with the gerotus for several more hours, and with Ceilos gone, there was no sign of life apart from myself and Isaak. Our footsteps echoed through the empty passageway. But I still had the unsettling feeling that someone was following us, watching our every move. Unseen eyes made goosebumps rise on the back of my neck. Knowing that the Liberator had been able to tap into my private evaluation, not to mention the gerotus, made it feel like he was everywhere—always watching, missing nothing.
I hurried into the classroom once more, Isaak following closely behind me. This time I activated the artificial lighting. Something about the dim phosphorescent glow made me uneasy—and reminded me of last night. I didn’t want to think about that again, and certainly not now.
“Gitrin told me to begin where we began,” I said.
“When did she tell you that?”
I hesitated. “She had… left a message for me in her apartment.”
Isaak’s eyes widened. “And you didn’t feel the need to share that with Ceilos and me because…?”
I looked away. “She told me not to tell anyone. I shouldn’t be telling you, honestly. But it feels too late, now. Anyway, she said, ‘begin
where we began,’ and I realized”—I strode over to the antique globe—“that that was here. My first lesson, years ago, was memorizing the regions of Iamos.”
Isaak came up beside me, running his fingers over the globe, the hills and valleys in gentle relief. It was old, almost a hundred years. The planet looked so different now, it was almost impossible to imagine. There was so much blue—oceans and rivers that were now almost completely dry. The continents were green and gray. The rust-red ground that covered the world now, oxidized by the violent changes in the climate, was nowhere to be seen on the globe.
“Not quite Mars,” Isaak said with a small laugh. “But it’s close. Some of the coastlines are shaped differently now, but you can just see the outline…” He traced his finger along the peninsula. The capital of our region had been there, on the coast. The citidome had been build nearby, nestled into the hills, but the sea had withered away. There was still some bits of ocean left, but it was several days’ journey away. You couldn’t see the coastline now.
“Tierra Nueva,” Isaak whispered.
“What’s that?” I asked.
He smiled weakly. “My home.”
I felt a pang in my chest. Iamos would be inhabitable again, but it wasn’t the Iamoi who would live here. Other people would take my homeworld and not even know that it was mine.
Because we’d all be dead.
I clenched my fist. “Never mind that. Gitrin said, ‘the three sisters will guide the way.’” I turned the globe slightly, following the planet’s curve east to the mountains near Bright Horizon, Ceilos’ home citidome. “The Haoi Ifaisteoi mountain range. I used to call them the sisters when I was little.”
“Elysium Mons,” Isaak said. “And Mount Hecates and Mount Albor. The Elysium mountain range.”
I quirked my head at him. Elysium. It almost sounded like a word in the old language. That odd sense of being watched crept up on me again. “Gitrin told me to touch the highest peak, and find her in the place where freedom lies. So, if we’re looking at the three sisters…” I reached out with my index finger, tapping the tip of the central mountain. It was round and raised from the globe’s surface, worn smooth with wear.
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