Aeson Kassiopei watches him, unblinking. “A few hours after midnight tonight the Fleet will pass the orbital region of Uranus,” he says thoughtfully. “Then, sometime after midnight the next day, we pass Neptune, and enter the Kuiper Belt region. By late afternoon, two days from now, we will be beyond Pluto, and approaching the end of your Sun’s heliosphere and entering true interstellar space. By the end of the third or fourth day, we will be moving through the final outer regions of the Oort Cloud, the absolute last marker defining the outer edges of your system’s reach.”
Logan nods. “This means we have only four days to carry out our orders—to take hostage the Commander and all three Command Pilots, including yourself. We are to hold all of you to assure the agreement terms are carried out.”
“And if they’re not?”
Logan’s expression is grave. “Then we are authorized to use extreme persuasive measures, up to and including execution of hostages.”
“Assuming all of this is true, why are you telling me this?” Aeson observes Logan’s face, every tiny muscle motion. “Why should I believe the words of a traitor to his own command?”
As they speak, I find that I am frozen motionless, with such an impossible mixture of emotion, confusion, and cold realization of new facts that I have forgotten to breathe.
“I have betrayed my orders, because I remain loyal to Earth, not some bureaucrats,” Logan says with a new level of forcefulness. “And because I have reason to believe that the organization I serve has been corrupted from the inside. Indeed, the corruption lies at the very top with the government leaders, including the United States President herself.”
Aeson moves his head slightly, shifting in his seat. “Tell me more,” he says. “You must tell me so much more before I can understand or might be willing to believe you. Begin with explaining this corruption.”
Logan sighs. A sense of weariness comes over him. “I’ve learned a few things overnight. And I put the facts together. First, I now know the reasons for your very peculiar age restrictions for Qualification. If they are indeed true, then there can be no mass rescue of the Earth population, not even with the availability of the cold storage capsules—they are enough only for a handful of VIPs. That’s point one, and a guarantee of at least one broken promise. Second, we’ve been promised that several of your Fleet ships will remain in orbit around Earth, ready to perform the terms, including various rescue functions and modification of the asteroid’s trajectory or whatever means you were going to use. But according to our satellite, radar, and other imaging tech, we find no ships remaining in orbit—”
“So . . . someone from Atlantis actually promised you that the asteroid can be moved from its impact trajectory?” Aeson Kassiopei says. “Name some names for me.”
“My source tells me the promise was made by the Imperator himself directly to an assembly session of Earth Union at the United Nations, via videoconference, four months ago.”
“I see. And what was my Father getting in exchange for this transaction?”
“That, I don’t know.”
“You are not making this very easy for yourself.”
Logan nods. “I am giving you as much information as I have. But allow me to finish—the one most troublesome thing I’ve learned yesterday, relates to the President and other high command. It turns out, upon receiving the urgent news from us about the age-based limitations for rescue of the general population, President Donahue and other Earth Union leaders did not show any surprise or concern—no concern at all that billions of people on Earth were going to perish after all. Instead, as soon as we relayed the information, our final orders were given to us—to stand by for the hostage taking operation.”
“You say ‘we relayed.’ Who else is working with you directly, on your ship?”
“There is one other operative that I know personally,” Logan says. “It’s the truth—he is the only one I know. Earth Union policy is, we are only given one other individual’s contact information at a time, so that if we are individually compromised the rest of the operatives remain viable. I can reveal his name to you because he and I both agree that Earth Union has been corrupted—has taken the wrong course of action, and gone too far. My operations partner is Cadet Daniel Tover. Both of us are assigned to ICS-1. However, we are not alone. Each Imperial Command Ship has three pairs of EU operatives. There are four more people who are still on that ship, ready to carry out EU orders and take Commander Manakteon Resoi hostage. Meanwhile, there are six people on your ship who are ready to enact the same orders with you. And same thing for ICS-3 and ICS-4.”
Command Pilot Aeson Kassiopei takes a deep breath and exhales, sitting back deeper in his chair, and momentarily turns away from Logan. “All right,” he says. “There is sufficient troubling information here that I am going to take your words under advisement. I know you haven’t told me the full story. But for now this is enough.”
Logan continues watching him.
“You do realize that you’re taking a different kind of risk in speaking with me about this?” Aeson says, again turning to face the other. “And I don’t mean incarceration for treason against Atlantis. Cadet Sangre—you think you know me? How easily you assume that I’m not in fact already working with Earth Union directly. I could be working on behalf of my Father with Earth Union, and you’ve just stupidly revealed your fundamental Earth Union doubts and disloyalty to me. You are at my mercy, Cadet. Well?”
Logan shakes his head slowly and does not look away. “No,” he says. “I think not. I believe you are not involved, Command Pilot, because I have a certain idea of your integrity.”
Aeson Kassiopei raises one brow in the closest semblance of sarcasm yet. “How so?”
“That.” And Logan points to the black armband on Aeson’s left bicep. “I know that you wear the mark of a hero. And I respect that. I do not see how you would be involved in such reprehensible dealings.”
There is another pause of silence.
“It appears, Cadet Sangre, that we have something in common,” Command Pilot Kassiopei says. He then leans forward again, placing his hands on his desk. “You will therefore tell me everything you know—again. Start from the beginning. How you were recruited, who is your handler, and who is your Atlantean contact, here in the Fleet. If you hold back, it will do neither of us any good. Prove to me that you are genuinely motivated to save lives.”
Logan thinks for a moment, then nods. And he begins to speak.
Chapter Fifteen
Kassiopei and Logan talk for the next twenty minutes, while I breathe shallow and stand perfectly still, my body approaching muscle atrophy, while my senses take everything in. At some point, Gennio and Anu arrive in the office, but seeing the intensity in the room, they pause at the doors.
I silently motion for them to come in and sit down. And then all three of us perch on our usual seats near the walls.
“What’s going on?” Gennio whispers to me, motioning with his head to the CP and Logan talking at the desk in moderately quiet voices. Now that I’ve stepped farther away, I can no longer hear them—at least not well enough to clearly tell what they’re saying, so I begin to fidget in agony. Gennio must see my extraordinary level of agitation, and the unrest in my posture.
But I only shake my head negatively, continuing to stare at the two speakers, Cadet and Command Pilot, trying to catch snatches of words. It’s like a bomb has exploded in my head. I no longer know what to think or feel or. . . .
Anu looks at them then back at me. “Must be really serious,” he finally mumbles.
“Yes!” I whisper fiercely. “It is.”
Finally another ten minutes later, it appears the conversation or interview is done.
“I am officially transferring you to my ship, Cadet Sangre,” Aeson Kassiopei says loudly. “As of now, you report to me directly. Any problem with that?”
Logan nods. “No, I am honored.”
“We will speak more on this later. For now, I’ll m
ake the arrangements for transfer.” Aeson pulls up a mech arm with a monitor and console, then starts keying in something.
Logan watches the CP’s movements.
“Your new assignment is ICS-2, Red Quadrant Cadet Deck One. The official commanding officer in charge is Pilot Xelio Vekahat, but he will be informed of the actual arrangement. If anyone asks, you report to him. This must be kept discreet.”
“Understood.”
Aeson observes him. “One more thing—how did you get that gun past the ship security, both here and on the flagship?”
Logan smiles. “I didn’t. The gun was never unauthorized. I simply took it off one of your guards at the shuttle bay, after we were scanned. You might ask Gwen about the little incident near the exit doors with the dropped box of cosmetics—”
“Oh, no, you don’t mean—” I exclaim, putting one hand to my mouth. “That box you carried for Consul Denu? That was on purpose?”
Logan glances at me briefly and grins. “Oh, yeah. Did you think it was an accident? All those rolling paints underfoot, four guards crawling around on the floor, bumping into me, their weapons holsters unattended. I could have stripped them of multiple weapons and probably their underpants too. My thanks to Consul Denu and his luggage for providing such an easy scenario.”
Anu makes a snort and bites his lip, but there’s a blissful stifled smile on his face. I think he’s just been seriously impressed by Logan. Either that, or he just really, really has it in for Consul Denu, and Logan has made his day.
But Command Pilot Aeson Kassiopei is not smiling. “All right. I am sure I’ll be hearing about it from the Consul himself at some point.” He merely nods. “In that case, we’re done here for now. Cadet Sangre, dismissed.”
Logan stands up, and makes another salute. Aeson watches him with an unreadable expression. For a moment they look at each other.
Aeson Kassiopei finally glances in our direction.
And when his serious gaze rests on me, I feel the pressure equivalent of the weight of a mountain. “Lark,” he tells me. “You may walk outside with Cadet Sangre. But return here shortly.”
I nod, and then I follow Logan outside the CCO.
As soon as Logan and I are in the hallway and around the corner, beyond the hearing of the guards, I turn around and glare at him.
“How could you do that to me? How?” I say, and my voice, my whole body, everything is trembling with an overflow of emotion. “You made me look like an idiot! And you put my reliability in question! How could you not warn me about what you were going to do?”
Logan watches me with a serious, gentle look in his hazel eyes, and turns his face sideways with an apologetic soft expression, as he continues to observe me. “Gwen, I couldn’t,” he says at last. His voice is mild and remorseful. “I couldn’t risk you saying no to me, and not letting me get here, get on that shuttle. It was too important that I make contact ASAP. Now that you know the gravity of the situation, you must see why it had to be done.”
“Okay, yes, I understand it’s bad. But you could have told me, warned me you were going to pull that awful gun trick. I thought you were going to kill him!”
“You need to trust me. You know me better than that.”
But I am not letting up. “Or—or, he was going to kill you! Don’t you get it? You were both this close to killing each other! All for a stupid, crappy demonstration! You could’ve simply showed him the gun in your pocket and explained how you got it, via a breach in security, or—or whatever! There was no need for a ridiculous Wild West showdown! I couldn’t bear it if either of you got hurt!”
In that moment Logan grows still and an odd frown appears on his face. “So you do care about him after all,” he says in a cool voice.
“Huh?” I stare at him, beginning to frown myself. “I what?”
“You care about him.”
My mouth drops. “What are you talking about? Hell yeah, I care about him getting hurt, just as I care about you getting hurt! He’s an honorable guy and a great commanding officer! What’s not to care?”
In that moment Logan shakes his head and smiles again, his intense expression evaporating—I am guessing, forcibly. “Never mind. Okay, let’s not worry about it. All right—I need to find my way around this ship, find my new Barracks. I am guessing the Cadet class schedule is the same?”
I blink at the lightning-fast change of topic. “So we’re done talking about what just happened in there?”
“Yeah, for now. The CP will call me if he has any more questions. But for the moment, he’s been warned about what’s coming, and he will handle it. Ball’s in his court.” Logan speaks almost casually, as we start to walk down the corridor, and then he cranes his neck at me and gives me his devastating smile. “So, babe, see you for lunch?”
“Don’t you babe me, you a-hole jerk!” But I am beginning to crack under the thousand-watt beauty of that smile.
Logan reaches out and brushes one finger against my cheek. “Later,” he says. And he starts walking away from me down the corridor.
“Jerk!” I say to his back.
And I return to the CCO.
When I approach the CCO doors, there’s Anu and Gennio, standing outside, looking serious. “What?” I say. “What’s going on?”
Anu shrugs, with a cool expression. “Nothing. The CP kicked us out. We have to wait out here.”
“He’s talking to the Imperator, his Father,” Gennio adds. “Whenever he does that, we are not allowed to be inside for the duration of the call.”
“Oh.” I stand, looking at them, at the impassive guards. It occurs to me to wonder—is Aeson Kassiopei discussing with the Imperator the news he’s just learned from Logan? I wouldn’t be surprised.
“So what are we supposed to do now?”
Gennio examines his fingernails then scratches the back of his head. “We wait.”
“It’s almost eleven,” Anu says with a world-weary roll of his eyes. “We could have early lunch.”
Gennio glances at him in reproach. “We can’t just leave like that, we have work to do.”
“I know, fat-brain. I am only dreaming.”
So we stand like that for a few more minutes, milling about the hall, and probably getting on the guards’ nerves. The guys tell me about how Consul Denu made them set up his stuff all over his guest quarters and install three wall mirrors.
“Oh—the Consul said to tell you, Gwen, that he will see you for your first Court Protocol class at 3:00 PM today, in his quarters—it’s the same cabin, number eleven, just as it was on the flagship,” Gennio recalls.
“Okay.” I purse my lips.
“Lucky you,” Anu says.
Eventually we are allowed back inside the CCO. There we see Command Pilot Kassiopei in a grim mood, pacing the room. He must have just ended his video call with the Imperator, because the screen still displays the Imperial logo at his desk.
Seeing me, Aeson gives me a quick piercing glance, then looks away. With one swift motion he passes one hand through his long metallic hair, sweeps it out of the way, almost with irritation, and moves a few strands from his forehead. Then he returns to his desk, barely acknowledging us, and starts making a series of calls.
For minutes he talks in a cold commanding tone, in Atlantean, to various ranking officers. Gennio and Anu listen discreetly, frequently glancing up from their consoles.
I tap Gennio with my hand. “What’s he saying?”
“Security. He’s talking to different ships security officers. Setting extra procedures in place.”
“Yeah,” Anu says. “Whatever news your boyfriend had about that hostage threat, the CP’s taking it seriously.”
“Good,” I say.
But my mood remains stressed, volatile, impossible to put into words. On the one hand, I am relieved that everything turned out okay with Logan coming here, that his intel was real. But I am still very disturbed with how it was all handled by Logan, the way he used our relationship, my trust in him, to do
a risky thing that could have backfired terribly. And then there’s the nature of the situation itself, the whole thing with Earth Union, with what our President was planning. I am far from clear on the details, but it’s enough to know that shady dealings were being planned behind the scenes, things the general public was never aware of. Promises made by the Imperator of Atlantis to a handful of Earth bigwigs. False promises. And they in turn had made false promises and explanations to the rest of us.
And so I try to concentrate on my work, and instead end up distracted.
Eventually I give up trying. I think and brood.
After a hasty lunch, eaten with the aides in the Blue Cadet Meal Hall, I have Pilot Training at 1:00 PM. It’s the only class on my schedule that I have every day, in addition to my secret voice training.
I get to the learning deck section allocated to our class, with the flight simulator consoles, in a big hurry—trying to be as early as possible, so as to have a seat. I manage to snag one in the second row. Once again, the room is packed and fills up fast, with more students than available double console desks. I see Blayne Dubois and wave to him, as he finds a console seat not too far away from me and skillfully moves his body and limbs over from the hoverboard into the chair.
“So, Lark. We meet again. Another day, another Pilot Training class, imagine that,” Blayne says with a faint smile, and stows the hoverboard away under the desk.
“Yeah, crazy, I know.” I smile back. “There’s more than one class! Who knew?”
My partner, Hugo Moreno, arrives and plops into the seat next to me, giving me a dull mumble for a greeting.
“Hey,” I say. “I grabbed us a decent console near the front.”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbles, then looks away from me as though I don’t exist and signals to a few Cadets he knows. One of those guys is Trey—that same alpha aggressive jerk who’s friends with the purple-streaked long-haired girl whose name I still don’t know, and who both made fun of Gennio that first day on the ICS-2 Observation Deck during the Mars orbital pass. Just lucky for me, they both settle down at the double console right next to Hugo and start blabbing loudly.
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