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Repatriate Protocol Box Set

Page 22

by Kelli Kimble


  “It can’t be as easy as that.”

  “It could.”

  I eyed him. “Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

  He fell silent, and we approached the guard.

  “Good morning,” I said. “We’re here to see President Leo.”

  The guard roved his tongue around his mouth, behind his lips, and from cheek to cheek. “President Leo?” he repeated.

  “Yes. I came the other day to see him. I’d like to see him today, as well,” I said.

  “Wait here.” He went inside the gate, throwing a curious look over his shoulder, before he disappeared from view.

  “Something isn’t right,” said Davenport.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I thought Leo would be expecting you.”

  I shrugged. “They seemed surprised to see me the other day, too.”

  The guard reappeared. “What are your names?”

  “I’m Fiona, and this is Davenport. We’re from the village.” I glanced over at Davenport. “The slave’s village.”

  The guard’s eyes narrowed. “And President Leo is expecting you?”

  “Yes, I believe so,” I said.

  He shifted his gaze from Davenport, back to me. “Come with me.” He opened the gate and led us into the same building I’d waited in with Helen and Oliver. “Someone will be right with you,” he said. He didn’t meet my eyes.

  I sat to wait. Davenport paced back and forth. “You’re making me nervous,” I said.

  “I think we have plenty to be nervous about,” he said.

  The door swung open, and a young man came in. “Excuse me,” he said, opening his palm to me. “Are you Fiona? And Dave?”

  “Davenport,” I corrected. “Yes, I’m Fiona, and this is my husband, Davenport.” I extended my hand for the traditional colony handshake, but he shook his head slightly.

  “We’ve done away with that greeting. Spreads germs.”

  “Ah. Okay,” I withdrew my arm awkwardly. “I’m here to see President Leo. I have some news for him.”

  “Uh-huh. All right. I can take you to him, if you like,” he said.

  “And you are?” asked Davenport.

  “Oh. I apologize. I’m Adam.” He spread his fingers across his chest in a self-signifying gesture, and he bowed slightly at the waist.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” I said.

  His lips curled in an insincere smile. A chill prickled my spine. I did not like Adam.

  “This way,” he said. He walked ahead of us, and we followed. His gait was smooth and practiced in a way that seemed unnatural.

  We went inside and moved through the more familiar halls. Adam didn’t say anything to us, and he didn’t speak to anyone else, either. The people we encountered did seem to offer him a wide berth.

  We arrived at Leo’s outer office, and he placed his hand on the door, then stopped. “I have to warn you that things may have changed since your last visit,” he said.

  “I was here only a few days ago.”

  “Even so.”

  We went into the outer office. The secretary’s desk was occupied by Swen. He looked up from his work as we walked by. His eyes widened, and he blinked rapidly.

  “Hello, Swen. How are you?” I asked.

  Swen nodded but didn’t answer, because Adam was guiding us past him to the inner office.

  “Have we been announced to the president? I don’t think he likes surprises,” I said.

  Adam smiled. “Oh, that isn’t necessary.”

  The inner-office door swung open, and I gasped at the sight of Leo. He was still in bed. In only a few days, he’d withered. His thin wrists were crossed over his chest, and although his eyes were closed, his mouth had fallen open.

  “May I?” I asked, looking to Adam and moving closer to Leo.

  “By all means,” he said, sweeping his hands towards Leo. “He won’t mind.”

  “Fiona,” said Davenport. His voice was rough with jealousy.

  I approached the bed and touched Leo gently on the arm. “Leo? It’s me, Fiona.” Leo didn’t move, and as I looked at him, I felt the ground swaying beneath me. Davenport’s voice; Adam’s flippant comment; the silent and motionless machines at the head of his bed. Worst of all, Leo’s chilled arm.

  Adam had brought me to see Leo’s body.

  Leo was dead.

  I gasped and ripped my hand away, as if I’d been burned. I glared at Adam. “Why didn’t you tell me he was dead?”

  Adam feigned an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I thought the guards had told you.”

  “I told you, I had news for him. What news could I possibly have for a dead man?”

  “I thought you must be the religious sort.”

  Davenport put his hands on my shoulder and gently moved me back from the bed and Adam. “Maybe you could tell us who stands in for Leo now,” he said. “Surely, he made arrangements?”

  Adam grinned. “That’s easy. It’s me.” He took a step around the bed and towards us. “I can see you’re shocked. You think perhaps I’m too young? Too inexperienced?”

  “Leo appointed you?” I asked.

  “No, that wasn’t necessary. I simply stepped forward. It was easy, really. When nobody wants to take responsibility, people are eager to agree with anyone who raises a hand.”

  “And the council,” I said. “They agreed to this?”

  “Oh, yes. Most of them are dead, too. Like I said, it’s been quite easy to assume control. People are afraid, Fiona. And you—of all people—must know how easy it is to shepherd fear.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” said Davenport.

  Adam narrowed his eyes. “I think you know exactly what I mean,” he said.

  “We’ve seen Leo. We’re ready to go,” I said. “Please, take us to the gate.”

  Laughter bubbled out of Adam, slowly at first, until he was holding his stomach, and tears ran down his face. I clutched Davenport’s arm and moved towards the door.

  Eventually, Adam collected himself. “Whew, that’s a good one, Fiona. Take you to the gate? Like I could just let you leave? Aren’t you here to tell me something?” He wiped tears from his face and dried his hand on his pants.

  “No,” I said. “We were here to talk to Leo. He’s gone, and there’s nothing more to say.”

  “I think there is. I think there’s a lot to say. And I’m saying it,” he extended his pointer finger and tapped the tip of my nose, “to you.”

  “We don’t have to stand here and listen to you.” Davenport pushed through the door and into the outer office, and I followed. “We’re leaving,” he said.

  Adam didn’t follow us out of the office. Swen watched us cross the room to the other door.

  “The guards have instructions to prevent you from leaving. By force, if necessary!” Adam called from the office.

  I glanced at Swen. He averted his gaze to the desk, rather than meet my eyes, but he did nod a silent confirmation of Adam’s claim.

  The density of the mountain above us threatened to crush me.

  We were trapped.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to Davenport.

  He squeezed my hand in response but didn’t answer, because Adam was now striding towards us. “Ah, I see we’ve come to our senses. Perhaps, you’d like some spiro? Sevin, get them some spiro,” he said.

  Swen scuttled from his chair to obey.

  “His name is Swen,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Adam. “I can get another, if he doesn’t like the post.”

  “He’s a human being,” I said. “He’s not just some expendable tool.”

  “Oh, but he is. That’s what we all are now. Didn’t you know?”

  “That would make you expendable, too,” said Davenport.

  “In some ways. Yes. But not right now. I’ve got my hands on the wheel. I’m piloting this colony. I’m piloting the world.”

  Swen returned with three glasses of spiro on a tray. He offered it
first to me and Davenport. Adam didn’t wait for his turn; instead, he took it as soon as it was in his reach. “Now, we have some refreshment. Shall we sit and discuss?” He motioned towards the chairs lining the office wall.

  My knees were weak, but I found my way to a chair and sat.

  “That’s better,” he said. He sipped daintily at his spiro. “You know, I’m going to miss Leo. He was like a father to me. When I was just out of the tanks, he came every day to see after the progress of everyone in my lot. The interest of someone as important as him meant a lot to a parentless tanker.”

  “Tanks?” asked Davenport.

  “Oh.” He reached out and patted Davenport on the knee. “Fiona hasn’t told you about the tanks, then?”

  “He means the birthing tanks,” I said.

  “How could he remember coming out of the tank?” pressed Davenport, brushing Adam’s hand away.

  “Because I came out as a fully-formed adult,” said Adam, snapping his fingers. “Ta-dah!”

  Davenport sucked in a breath.

  “This is fun,” said Adam. “I like this bonding time. Leaders should bond, right?”

  “That’s crazy,” whispered Davenport.

  “Bonding isn’t crazy. Everyone does it,” said Adam.

  “Not that. Growing up in a tank. That’s crazy.”

  “Maybe. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s you.”

  “What do you want from us?” I asked. My heart was beating fast. I took a deep breath and tried to flatten the nerves in my voice. “I can’t do anything on behalf of the village. I’m only the messenger.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “All I need is a messenger to start. You’re probably here to tell Leo that your little village will step in and save all the people dying in the mountain, right? You had good news for the old boy. You were going to save his presidency.”

  Neither of us answered.

  “Leo thought he could get out of the trouble he caused. He couldn’t. He was just as stupid as the rest of them.”

  “You’re saying Leo did something to make people sick?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “A little of this, a lot of that. What’s the difference?” Adam stood and began walking around the room, his hands folded behind his back. “People believe that the sickness started because of the tanks. That the tankers are introducing some new germ or bacteria to the colony. Well, I don’t buy it. I’m perfectly healthy. None of the other tankers are sick. How are we the cause?”

  “What’s the message?” asked Davenport.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The message,” Davenport pressed. “You said, you needed a messenger.”

  “Oh. That. I need to think about what the message will be. It has to set the tone, you know? It has to be perfect. So, you’ll just be my guests for a few days while I decide, hmm?”

  “I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Davenport said between clenched teeth. “We need to get back home to the village. We have responsibilities.”

  Adam laughed. “I guess I didn’t make it clear that you would be my guests. I need your feedback. Inspiration, even.”

  Davenport started to say more, but I put a restraining hand on his knee. “We’ll stay, if you need us to,” I said, though it was obvious we had no choice.

  “Terrific. Steven, please take these kindly people off to their lodging, would you?”

  Swen opened the outer office door and waited for us.

  “I’ll see you later,” said Adam. “At dinner. How’s that? Join me for dinner.”

  I nodded as we left the office. When the door closed behind us, it felt like the door was closing on the future. I looked at Swen. “What does he want?”

  Swen’s eyes were shining. “I haven’t the faintest idea. But I don’t think he wants anything that you’re going to like giving him.”

  ◆◆◆

  At the commissary, we were led to a long table with fancy glass settings for 20 people. Adam appeared and sat in the end seat. He pointed to the seats on either side of him. “Oh, Fiona! Dave! Come, sit here,” he said.

  Davenport pulled the chair back roughly and sat where he was told. “My friends call me Port,” he said. “If Davenport isn’t to your liking.”

  I sat in my assigned chair, wishing that Davenport could read my mind so that I could tell him to back off. We didn’t know what Adam wanted, and there was no sense in agitating him.

  “Port. Interesting. I’ll consider that,” said Adam. Others began sitting at the table. When the seats were all occupied, Adam stood. “Good evening, fellow tankers. I’d like to introduce some special guests from outside. May I present Fiona and Dave?”

  Even from across the table, I could see the tiny vein in Port’s forehead standing in sharp relief.

  A round of greetings went up around the table. Everyone stated their names, but there were so many, I quickly forgot all but the woman’s sitting next to me. Her name was Eve. She took a haughty attitude with me, and I wondered if I was sitting in her normal position at Adam’s right hand.

  To avoid conversation, I fell to studying the plates. They were a delicate white, with a shiny, gold design painted around the edges. In the center of the plate, there was a symbol that seemed to represent the mountain. The image was so faded, it was difficult to discern.

  “Prized antiques of the forefathers,” said Adam, leaning over to me. “These were brought in the mountain before the winter. Very few of their original possessions still exist.”

  I smiled and nodded, not wanting to comment. I was pretty sure he wanted me to believe it was an honor to be given the opportunity to touch it, let alone eat off it.

  “Do you use them every day?” asked Port.

  “No. Today is a special occasion. I became president today.”

  Someone came around and filled the glasses with a dark-red liquid. Platters of food were produced and passed up and down the table. I took what looked familiar.

  Adam picked up his glass. “To the presidency,” he said. He tapped his glass against mine, and then Port’s, and others exchanged a tap with those beside them at the table. Eve did not offer me hers to tap. The drink was bitter, and I set it down after only a sip.

  The food didn’t taste much better. It lacked flavor and texture, compared to the food at home. I picked at it and waited for the end of the meal.

  Unfortunately, Adam noticed. “You must clean your plate, Fiona,” he said. He tapped the edge of my plate with his fork. “Food is a valuable resource. Surely, you know that.” He smiled as he said it, but I could hear the challenge in his voice.

  “Of course,” I said. I stabbed a piece of grayish meat with my fork and lifted it, hesitating before putting it in my mouth.

  “Your heart isn’t in eating today; is that it?”

  I set my fork down. “No,” I said, relieved that he’d understood. “It’s been a long day, and I really would just like to rest.”

  Adam slammed his hand down on the table so hard that my plate jumped from its surface. “I said, food is a precious resource. I’m spending my valuable resources on you, someone who doesn’t belong here. And I’ll thank you to eat the food you’re presented with.”

  Anger emanated from Port, but he continued to keep his head down as he ate. With a shaking hand, I picked up my fork. “You’re right. We’re your guests, and I thank you for your hospitality,” I said. I choked down the food, hoping that my displeasure at its taste wasn’t written on my face.

  “Fiona and Dave here have agreed to send a message to the slave’s village for us,” Adam said. The conversation at the table hushed, and everyone but Port and I turned to him to listen. “I’ll need your help deciding what to say, Eve. You’re so much better with words than I am.”

  “Of course,” Eve said. “Though I think the most eloquent message could be sent without any words at all. Just return the bodies.”

  I stopped chewing.

  “Ooh, I like that,” Adam said. “Simple and effective. And impactful, too.” He pointed at E
ve. “It’s perfect—it takes care of two jobs at once. Lowering their resistance and sending a message. No wonder I love you.”

  Eve demurred under his praise. I wanted to stab her with my fork.

  “What exactly would sending Leo’s corpse out to the village gain you?” Port asked.

  “Oh, Fort. You don’t realize, do you?” Adam wheedled.

  “Port.”

  “Right. The bodies. I’m sending more than one.” He pointed first to me, and then to Port. “You, and you. See? It’s simple, if you just follow the logic.”

  Port narrowed his eyes. “The village won’t stand for your abuse. They’ve shaken off people like you before, and they’ll do it again.”

  “Will they? When their illustrious leader isn’t there to help them? But wait.” He began to laugh uncontrollably, just as he had in the office. The other tankers at the table laughed, too, though I’m sure they didn’t know what was so funny, either. “She will be there,” Adam said in short bursts, between laughter. “She’ll just be—”

  “Dead!” shouted someone else at the table. The laughter redoubled. I swallowed the unchewed clump of meat still in my mouth. It stuck partway down, and I gulped at my drink to clear my throat.

  “Oh, not yet, Fiona.” Adam clapped me on the back. “There’s no killing yourself off. You can’t deny us that pleasure.”

  I swallowed the last bit of the bitter liquid and put down my glass. “I’ll do whatever I can to deny you whatever I can, no matter how small,” I said. My grip tightened on the glass, and it collapsed with a plink in my hand.

  “Fiona, that was an antique,” Adam said. “Now, what am I going to do?”

  Port stood. “I’ve had enough to eat. We’d like to return to our room now.”

  The man sitting beside Port punched him in the thigh. Port’s eyes widened in shock, and then closed. Being the village smithy made Port a formidable man, even at his age. He took a deep breath, and his upper lip curled, a sure sign that he was about to retaliate.

  “Adam hasn’t said the meal is over,” said the man. “You’ll sit down and wait, or I’ll beat your wife until you do.”

  Port released his breath and looked to me. I shook my head once, and he sat down.

  “There’s no need for violence,” I said. “We’ve already said we’ll cooperate with you.”

 

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