Broken Sky

by L. A. Weatherly

  Collie’s name came to my lips. I didn’t say it. Given his own link to the Central States, I didn’t want him implicated, not even to Madeline, in case it somehow put him in danger.

  “No one,” I said.

  “Good. Don’t say a single word. Don’t arouse any suspicion.”

  “If they ask me to throw a fight, I won’t do it.”

  “Of course not! Just play along as best you can. I don’t need to tell you that these are dangerous people, Amity.”

  Madeline locked the documents from Russ’s house away in her safe. As she spun the dial, a tense frown creased her freckles, and I recalled all the summers she’d flown with Dad. That same intent expression as she surveyed the runway up ahead.

  She hugged me when I left. Her hazel eyes were deeply troubled.

  “Keep safe,” she said softly. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  The house where I’d grown up was vacant and needed a coat of paint. When Collie and I went there the next day I hated how abandoned it looked, though I’d have resented seeing someone else living in it.

  Inside the rooms were empty of furniture but full of ghosts. In the kitchen I gazed at the spot where the table had been. My father had sat in here the night before he died.

  I stood silently as it all came back: how I’d heard him and crept down the stairs. The strangeness of his mood. It had scared me a little; at the same time, I’d longed to understand what he was saying. I’d felt that if I could just do that, I’d finally have the key to him.

  I swallowed and turned away. Collie stood leaning against the doorjamb, massaging his forehead. He’d been strained and silent since yesterday afternoon, when I told him what I’d found out after I left Madeline’s office. Last night we’d made love with a kind of desperate passion that had said more than words.

  “Let’s go out to the barn,” I said.

  Collie glanced up. “You don’t want to see upstairs?” he asked after a pause.

  “No.”

  We stepped out into the sunlight and walked through the overgrown yard. The fields were growing wild, too. Collie didn’t speak. He had his hands in his pockets, gazing down at the ground, his mouth tight. I wished that I could help with what he was feeling, but I couldn’t. I felt the same.

  In my father’s old barn, his Firedove still crouched.

  I thought I must be imagining things, but when I got close it was still there. I’d assumed Ma had sold it. I stroked the plane’s side gently, hating whoever had left it here without its canvas covering. Cobwebs lay thick on its surface.

  Collie propped himself beside me – just like that day four years ago.

  “I still can’t believe it,” he said finally.

  I let my hand fall. “It’s true,” I said. “Everything leads back to Gunnison.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  When I’d left Madeline’s office that day I could feel something nagging at my brain – some detail I’d forgotten.

  It hit me the next afternoon, when I drew a few circulars from my mailbox in the base office and saw a letter in the box next to mine. It had an Alaskan grizzly bear stamp, just like on the letter I’d received from Concordia’s parents.

  Concordia.

  And suddenly I knew with icy clarity: Russ hadn’t been the only corrupt pilot. I stood clutching the circulars as her parents’ words rushed back. We never had much money, but Cordy was always smiling and tried to help out all she could.

  The way her plane had cruised along below mine, as tempting as a dangling worm to a fish…Concordia had thrown her fight. It was why she’d wanted me to tell her family she was sorry, because doing so had ended up killing her. Who’d been paying her? Had Sandford Cain been involved in that, too?

  But why? To what end?

  My sabotaged fight against the EA. Concordia’s thrown fight against me.

  Finding out the rest had only taken a few hours. I’d sat in a corner of the library, scanning books of news clippings. And when the puzzle pieces all clicked into place, every fight that didn’t directly benefit Gunnison had been explained. Stunned, I stared down at two headlines.

  LAND RIGHTS CEDED TO GUNNISON BY RUSSIAN STATES

  EUROPEAN ALLIANCE JOIN WITH SCANDO-FINNS IN DEAL WITH CENTRAL STATES

  The barn was silent, save for the soft rustling of pigeons in the eaves. “Every thrown fight that we know about leads back to him,” I repeated. “Every one. That fight I lost that ceded our oil rights? The European Alliance turned right around and gave those rights to Gunnison.”

  Collie winced, but I had to go on.

  “The same for the fight I won against Concordia – it ended up helping Gunnison, too. The Western Seaboard’s agricultural department sold those land rights to the Russian States, who ceded them to the CS the very next day. It was all in place. All arranged.”

  My throat tightened as I recalled Concordia’s hand going cold in mine. The prettiness of her face under the blood. And Russ. Stan. What had driven them both to betray the world’s trust? Money troubles? I’d had the impression sometimes that Stan’s family didn’t have much.

  Maybe that explained it…but it didn’t make what my friends had done any easier to bear.

  Collie looked as if he’d never smiled in his life. He gazed through the open barn door to the fields beyond. “If Gunnison’s really behind all of this…” He didn’t finish.

  “I don’t understand it,” I said tightly. “Why would anyone want that madman in charge? All these fights benefiting Gunnison: why? They could add up to him taking everything over someday, if they aren’t stopped.”

  Collie glanced down at his tattoo; his eyes hardened. “His followers are passionate like you can’t even imagine,” he said. His lip curled as he added, “And don’t forget, Gunnison can get rid of the Discordants. Believe me, people like having someone they can blame their troubles on, as long as it isn’t them.”

  There was something about the way he said it. The barn felt vast around us as I stared at him. “Collie…you were found Discordant, weren’t you?”

  His jaw went taut. “No.”

  “You were. That’s why you had to escape – leave your parents—”

  His eyes flashed; for a second he looked as if he hated me. “Drop it, Amity.”

  I hesitated, remembering his nightmares: his head lashing back and forth as he pleaded with someone. What had happened to him?

  “It’s dropped,” I said.

  I wrapped my arms around him. Collie let out a breath and hugged me hard. Finally he drew back. In the barn’s dimness his eyes were dark green, intent on mine.

  “Okay, look,” he said. “I was up all night trying to decide what we should do.”

  My forehead creased. “Do? I’ve already told Madeline about Gunnison being behind it all. What else can we do?” I’d met her in an out of the way diner in the Heat. The dread in her eyes had told me clearly just how much worse this new information made things.

  “Please! Just listen to me,” said Collie.

  “I’m listening,” I said after a pause.

  He took a deep breath. “All right. I think we should leave now and never look back.”

  “What?”

  Collie gripped my arms, “Amity, Sandford Cain is infamous in the CS. He’s a killer. And he knows who you are. When they realize what Madeline’s up to, they’ll know you were the one who reported them.”

  I started to speak. Collie rushed: “You’ll be killed and it won’t even make any difference! If Gunnison’s behind all of this, believe me – he is not going to be stopped.”

  He kissed my palm, then folded his fingers tightly over mine. “Please,” he said in a low voice. “Come away with me. Let’s go into town, catch the next train and just go.”

  My heart twisted. I pulled away and gazed at my father’s Firedove. It was just like the one he’d flown in so many fights. And in every one, he’d believed in what he was doing.

  “We can’t.” My voice was curter than I’d intended. “Made
line’s in danger too; if we run they’d know something’s up. Besides, we’re Peacefighters. That still means something.”

  Collie spun me to face him. “I know what you’re thinking! Well, I knew your father too, and Tru would not have wanted you to get gunned down in some alleyway for the sake of an ideal!”

  “You’re wrong.” The whispered words needed no thought. My father’s story of Louise – her family murdered by troops; the way she’d helped turn the world back from its fatal path – had given me the answer long ago.

  “This isn’t an ideal,” I said shakily. “It’s the ideal. It’s worth more than anything.”

  “More than us?”

  “Of course!” I slumped against the Firedove, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “We’re just two people, Collie! What does it matter what happens to us?”

  “It matters.” He clutched my arms, his expression fierce, pleading. “Amity, we’re finally together – we actually have a shot at happiness! Please listen. If you go back, you will get killed.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “It’s obvious!”

  “I can’t just run away! What kind of a person would that make me?”

  “A smart one! An alive one! One with a man who loves her more than anything, who’s begging her on his knees to—”

  “Shut up! Just shut up!” The words echoed around the barn. I stood with my hands pressed to my head, trembling.

  Silence settled over us like a heavy blanket. Collie’s expression was tormented. He jammed his fists in his pockets and stared out at the fields again. They rippled in the breeze, flashing first green, then silver. In the rafters, one of the pigeons cooed.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was as dull as when he’d told me he was leaving that day. “I knew that you’d say this. Every last word.”

  “You know I’m right,” I said softly.

  “There’s no way that I’m going to convince you, is there?”

  I slowly shook my head. “No.”

  Collie gave a slight shudder, still staring out at the fields. I could see the tightness of his muscles even through his shirt. “I should go away on my own,” he murmured finally. “Just leave this. Leave all of it.”

  I started to answer. I couldn’t. He turned then and studied my face as if he’d never seen it before.

  “Except that I could never leave you,” he said.

  Words had never felt as useless. “Collie…I have to go back and play along like Madeline asked. It could ruin our only hope of exposing the corruption if I don’t. Nothing will happen. I’ll be all right.”

  “Do you even believe that yourself?”

  “I have to believe it. We both have to.”

  I put my arms around him. He held me tightly. He was almost trembling. “I am never giving you up,” he said in a low voice. “Never. Do you understand me?”

  My throat clenched. “I’m glad to hear it.” I drew back and touched his face, trying to soothe its tautness. “Canary Cargo, remember?” I said. “With a bright yellow plane.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “And so, of course, with mars in the fourth house, I decided that…”

  The young astrologer had been talking for some time. Kay made polite noises, hardly listening. They were in the lavish Aquarius dome; the party in Gunnison’s state offices was a glittering array of perfect dresses, crisp tuxedoes. She took a sip of champagne and gazed over to where John Gunnison stood talking in a small knot of people.

  His blunt features and solid farmhand’s body should have looked ridiculous in a tux. Perhaps technically they did, but Kay felt drawn to him anyway, and knew she wasn’t the only one. That voice. The way he held himself.

  Look at me, Kay willed him. The dress she wore was the most beautiful thing she’d ever owned: blue sequins and airy net.

  Gunnison did not look in her direction.

  He hadn’t looked in her direction all night.

  Kay licked her lips. They’d had several lunch meetings by now, and Gunnison had been unfailingly warm – had made Kay feel that her input to the Twelve Year Plan was essential. She’d often wondered whether Gunnison really believed in “the power of the stars” but by now she was convinced of his sincerity. It shone from his face, his words.

  The knowledge should have made him easier to read. Instead Kay had found herself falling more under his spell, strangely intrigued by his belief, even if she didn’t share it. When she’d gotten the invitation to this gathering she’d been thrilled – for more reasons than what it meant for her personal survival. But Gunnison hadn’t even greeted her when she arrived.

  As the astrologer at her side talked on and on, Kay tried to still her icy dread. The image of severed heads on a chain-link fence hovered at the back of her mind, reminding her of what happened to those Gunnison disapproved of.

  No. She was being ridiculous.

  A guy a little older than Kay appeared. Short – just barely taller than her – with rumpled brown hair. He gave her an earnest look. “Miss Pierce, isn’t it? Say, do you mind if I ask your opinion about something?”

  The astrologer at her side blinked and stopped talking. Kay regarded the newcomer in surprise.

  “No, of course not,” she said.

  “In private, if that’s okay.” The man took Kay’s arm and led her away. When they reached the other side of the room he let his hand fall. “I don’t really want your opinion,” he said cheerfully. “I just thought you needed rescuing.”

  Kay tried to smile. “I suppose so. Thanks.”

  He stuck out his hand with a grin. A small diamond bull glittered on his lapel.

  “Mac Jones,” he said.

  They shook. “Are you with the World for Peace?” Kay asked politely.

  Thanks to Gunnison’s skilful manoeuvring, he had many important supporters, both in the World for Peace and in key positions in other countries. A number of these were present tonight.

  Mac Jones shook his head. “No, I work mostly with Mr Cain.”

  Kay remembered his name then. “That’s right, you’ve been helping him find the Discordants in the Western Seaboard, haven’t you? Getting the lists from the resistance groups.”

  Mac waggled his dark eyebrows. “Hey, you know all about me.”

  Kay resisted the urge to glance at Gunnison again. She shrugged. “Not really. But Mr Cain’s been pleased with your work.”

  Mac turned serious. He looked over at Gunnison himself. “I hope so,” he said with a frown. “You wouldn’t believe how many Discordants the Resistance has helped to get away.”

  “How do you do it?” Kay asked, for lack of anything else to say. “Get hold of their lists, I mean.”

  Mac snagged a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter.

  “Oh, the Resistance trusts me. I spend a lot of time working in the Western Seaboard. They think I’m on the up and up, helping out Discordants on the run.” He shrugged. “Well, I do help them. Got to. It means I get access to what we need. I turn in whoever I can, though, if the other side won’t suspect me.”

  Gunnison’s voice lifted over the crowd for a moment. Kay tensed, but couldn’t make out his words.

  “A double agent, then,” she commented. “How interesting.”

  Mac grinned as if he knew she didn’t mean it. “So you’re one of the Twelve Year astrologers? Very prestigious.”

  “Thanks. I do my best.”

  “Sure, we all do.” Mac took a gulp of champagne and looked again at Gunnison. He seemed restless, but turned back to Kay. “Heard about the Conflict Council decision?”

  “About our new challenge against the WS?”

  Mac nodded. “They finally passed it. Once we win the Peacefight, we’ll be able to extradite all Western Seaboard Discordants…even if they’re WS citizens. We can start cleaning the place up before we even take over.” He lowered his voice. “Just between us, I hear we’ve already sent people in to start laying the groundwork.”

  Despite Kay’s
tension, her interest stirred. “So soon?” she asked in a murmur. “But how can we check anyone’s chart over there before we have access to birth certificates?” Though key members of the Western Seaboard’s press were Gunnison supporters, by and large the government weren’t. They wouldn’t provide information before they had to.

  “Simple – if people have been using astrologers of their own accord.” Mac clinked his glass against Kay’s. “Hey, did you know some of the astrologers have even been marking family envelopes for us? Enemies of Harmony will no longer be tolerated. Quite a victory.”

  Kay knew what a landmark ruling the upcoming Tier One fight had been. It nearly hadn’t passed; the Conflict Council’s secret Gunnison followers weren’t in the majority. Kay thought how galling it must be for Gunnison to have to depend on the whims of the Council to approve the fights he needed.

  If things went the way he planned, he soon wouldn’t have to.

  A week had passed since Kay had dowsed for him. The army was still poised near the Western Seaboard, waiting to attack. Kay had no idea what Gunnison’s missing “puzzle piece” might be – and didn’t think he did, either.

  Over their last lunch, he’d confided that the new extradition law would be his offering to Lady Harmony, who hated all Discordants. Soon he hoped that he’d receive the sign he needed to begin the Reclamation. From what Kay had heard, many in the Western Seaboard were envious of their more prosperous neighbours. They’d probably be relieved when Johnny took charge…once the “fire and fury” was over.

  When it happens, I will be there to advise him, Kay promised herself. She fingered the stem of her champagne glass and glanced at Gunnison’s group again. She wished she had the nerve to join them.

  If Johnny would give her just the merest glance, she’d do it.

  One of Gunnison’s aides appeared then and touched Mac’s arm. “Mr Gunnison would like you to join him,” he said in an undertone. “Hester from World for Peace has arrived; they’re going to go over the Vancour matter.”

  This seemed to be what Mac had been waiting for. “Of course,” he said quickly. He nodded to Kay, and the two strode off towards the group.