by Angie Sage
And so, with some reluctance, I leave Parminter and set off into the low light of the late afternoon, heading for my poor sealed house and the terrified boy who lies within. I fear that my sudden arrival will not do much to calm him but I cannot in all conscience leave him there a moment longer.
The hour before sunset is a magical time to fly. The Orb diffuses the rays of the setting sun and I find myself flying beneath a vast bubble of shimmering pink. I give the Night Roach Steeple a wide berth, and head across the city. Sounds travel far in the stillness of the end of the day and from the streets below a cry of “Roach!” drifts up but it does not upset me as it once would have done. I wonder if some of Parminter’s confidence is rubbing off on me?
I fly slowly, for my right wing is still sore from the fly-lift, and as I go I listen happily to the distant shouts of children at play, a sudden wild burst of laughter from a woman and the slow drumbeat from a rooftop far below where a group of young Rats have gathered to drum for the invisible sunset. I think of all the unknowable lives being lived beneath our Orb and how Hope is still full of good people, despite all its troubles. I am feeling very heartened by this, when a movement far above me catches my eye and I see the Astro again.
Shining orange in the low glow of the sun, it hangs in the sky and there is no movement to it at all. I toy with the idea of flying up to it, to show the poor soul inside it that they are not alone, but I decide that the kindest thing is to leave them in peace. And so I continue crossing the city, but now the sounds that rise up to greet me seem tinged with sadness and I think how fragile is the happiness of the people below, for the Astro above is there to remind them that a knock on their door can put any one of them up there too.
Roach and Wingless alike, we are all prisoners of Hope.
Chapter 20
Astro
T
I’m floating over the evening city, which is bathed in a sea of pink, the last throw of the sun before twilight falls. The fire in my lungs has subsided to a dull burn and now, at last, I feel a strange kind of peace.
Far below I see a Roach in flight. It is a large one, about six feet long at least, and it is flying slowly, almost gliding. Its shimmering wing cases glint with a sheen of pink reflected from the Orb—it is almost beautiful. A sudden feeling of loneliness sweeps over me and I very nearly put myself into a dive to go down and surprise it. But my fear of being unable to control the Astro and hurtling into the streets far below stops me. I am floating just fine right now. Let’s leave it at that.
I allow my mind to wander and it takes me back to the slow and clunking ride in the elevator up to the top of the Bartizan. It felt frighteningly precarious, as though at any moment it could plunge to the ground and—although now it seems ridiculous—I was actually relieved when we reached the top. I was surprised how fancy it was up there, so colorful with all those dancing lights coming in through the dome. And that wonderful smell of beeswax from the shining wood floor. It made me realize how run-down and dirty our poor city is. I think I was in a strange state of mind by then, with every sensation heightened. I kept thinking of Mom and how all this had happened to her too. I felt I was in a dream, following in her footsteps. It sounds crazy, but that made me feel quite calm, almost as if she was walking by my side. I remember the big silver A on the door and how I couldn’t stop looking at it. And then walking through the door and knowing I had crossed over from being alive to being very nearly dead.
The Astro Room was surprisingly small. The Astro technician who was waiting for me seemed to take up most of the space. He was kind of blank: with dark glasses, a shaved head, smooth, raw skin like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper, and soft pink hands like a mole. I felt overwhelmed by tiny details—I was desperately drinking in everything to do with being alive. I looked at the orange circle painted on the floor with some of the paint rubbed off the middle and I wondered how many people it had taken to do that. And then the long glass door with fingerprints on it. I thought if I were the Astro Tech I would have cleaned it. I saw the launch ledge stuck out like a diving board. It looked a bit flimsy and that bothered me. The light was dim, just dull daylight filtering in, and I wondered how the Astro Tech could see anything with his glasses. But maybe that was the point; maybe he didn’t want to. But most of all what I remember is the silence. Soft. Slow. Gentle, like a dream.
My guards guided me onto the orange circle on the floor and turned me so I was facing the long glass door and the diving board. I heard the zip of a tape measure and I knew the tech was measuring me. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sliding open a panel and I caught a glimpse of Astros hanging up like a row of fat orange slugs. And then he brought it out: my orange coffin.
The suit was made of much stiffer stuff than I’d expected; it was reinforced with fine steel threads, and stood up on its own. It was headless with a metal ring holding the neck open. It looked like the spacewalk suits from way back, but much plainer and with no life support pack. Of course. They put the helmet on the ground and I saw to my relief that it was the new kind, with a tiny slit of a window. I want to see as much of this world as possible for every last second I’m in it.
The Astro Tech slit open the back of the suit with a heat-knife; then my guards took my elbows and lifted me in feetfirst. My feet touched the soles of the boots and I felt a cuff snap around each ankle. That was a bad moment. I hadn’t figured on that happening and it made me feel more trapped than I’d expected. They guided my arms into the blind end sleeves and the same thing happened with my hands: cuffs snapped tight around my wrists so I couldn’t pull my arms back. I took a deep breath to stop the panic rising and focused on the helmet that sat waiting on the floor, its dead eye staring back at me. A guard ran a glue gun down the back of the suit to seal it and I smelled hot plastic and metal. Nothing felt real by then.
After Mom got Astroed I made a point of finding out exactly what would have happened to her. But the trouble with knowing the Astro Protocol is that you can’t get it out of your mind. So every night I’d have nightmares about it. First it was about Mom, but later I’d dream it was happening to me. I’d wake up fighting to get out of the suit and discover my sheets knotted around me. I think that was why I was so dazed—I felt as though I was still dreaming.
And then I heard a woman’s voice right in the middle of the room. “Proceed,” it said. And the Astro Tech jumped to attention and picked up the helmet. I forced myself to stay calm and took a deep breath in, knowing it would be my very last of fresh air. I wonder if Mom did that too? Of course she did. I expect everyone does. We’re all the same deep down, aren’t we? Anyway, I saw the tiny dark strip of reinforced visor glass in the helmet and I got a sudden fear that they would put it on back to front so I couldn’t see out. I was wondering whether to beg them to put it the right way around, when the voice came again: “Turn the prisoner this way. I want to see his face.” And so my last breath got delayed. They swung me around to face a blank piece of dark glass set into the paneling, which was, I could tell, a one-way glass. And it didn’t take much to guess who was on the other side of it. The Guardian. Whoever she was.
“Lights!” said the Guardian’s voice, and the Astro Tech pulled a lever and the room was flooded with a blaze of light. I went to shield my eyes from the brightness and of course I couldn’t move my arms. That was a bad moment; I realized I would never be able to touch my face again.
I was staring at myself in the glass—white-faced and wild-eyed as if I was already a ghost—when something amazing happened: a Sunstrike. For those few seconds of brilliance I saw who was behind the glass: a short, thin woman with hair like an iron helmet. And standing beside her was my sister with her big, shining gray eyes staring at me. Terrified. And then the Sunstrike was over and once again I was looking at a dark glass.
I was so stunned by what I’d seen that the next snappy instruction piped into the Astro Room I heard only in my head, a few beats later. “Confirm the name of the prisoner,” it said.
The guard holding my right arm cleared his throat nervously. “Tomas Harston Marne, formerly Drew, Madam Guardian.”
This was weird. Why would the Guardian be interested in my name?
And then another snappy command. “Confirm the prisoner’s siblings.”
In the reflection I could see the guards behind me glancing at one another and I realized that they didn’t know what siblings were. So, I spoke for myself. “Kaitlin Sian Drew, Jonathan Digby Drew.” It felt right that the last words anyone heard me say were the names of my sister and brother.
“Silence!” the guards shouted in unison. “Prisoners are forbidden to speak.”
I smiled. Because, forbidden or not, I had spoken. And then I spoke again, for what I knew would be the last time. Ever. “Goodbye, Kaitlin,” I said. “It’s okay.”
They slammed the helmet onto me pretty fast after that and to my great relief the window slit was in front of my eyes. I felt the back of the helmet being fiddled with and the clang of something being attached to it. I knew that was the pipe for the ReBreethe air. The idea is that they inflate the whole suit with ReBreethe so it blows up like a balloon and floats. ReBreethe is an enriched breathable gas and it works along with the filters in the suit that slow down the buildup of carbon dioxide, so you can keep breathing it for days. It is also very light, so until the gas becomes exhausted, the Astro will float.
They shoved the ReBreethe in as fast as they could. I think they were showing off to the Guardian. It was a terrifying few minutes. The gas smelled vile and my lungs felt like they were burning up. I coughed and retched until I discovered that holding in the ReBreethe was the thing to do: the burning sensation calmed and soon became an almost-pleasant warmth—or it would have been if I hadn’t known what awaited me with my next breath.
And so it went on.
The Astro suit swelled up until I no longer had any contact with its inside surface, apart from my tethered wrists and ankles. I felt it gently lift off the ground and then the rushing hiss of gas stopped. I heard the clang as the nozzle was unclipped and a faint click as they fastened the input valve cover back in place. I had become an independent ecosystem—planet Tomas Drew.
I caught sight of the Astro Tech clipping on his safety harnesses and then, through my feet rooted in their boots, I felt the vibrations as he slid back the glass door. It happened very quickly after that: one push and I was stumbling out onto the diving board. Another jolt from behind and I was gone, tumbling into the air, with nothing below me for hundreds of feet. The suit went spinning like a leaf that had fallen too soon from its tree. But it was okay. I spread-eagled myself like a flying squirrel, got back in control and began to float.
And now, hours later, here I am high above the city, ReBreething in . . . out, in . . . out, in . . . out, in . . . out, in . . . out. Head pounding like a hammer, lungs scorched, ears ringing, throat raw, just peed down my leg. I watch the Roach fly steadily away from me until it is no more than a small dot in the sky and I am alone. Twilight is falling now and lights are flickering far below. The chill of the oncoming night is beginning to seep through the suit. I clench and unclench my hands to force some circulation into them and slowly, slowly, sleep creeps up on me.
Chapter 21
On the Other Side of the Glass
K
I watched Tomas being Astroed. The whole thing. However much I wanted to look away, I knew I couldn’t. It was so hard. I told myself that Tomas would have been Astroed anyway, because he had lost his crew, but I knew I had sealed his fate with my lies.
He said it was okay. But it isn’t, is it?
When Tomas had gone and I was staring at the empty ledge where he had stood, the Guardian said, “Your brother looks like your mother, who was also a traitor. As was your father. It seems to run in the family, does it not?”
I couldn’t let that go. “We are not traitors,” I told her.
“You will find that it is I who decide who is a traitor, not you,” she said. “And there are consequences to being a traitor, as you have observed. But unlike your brother you, Kaitlin Marne, have a chance to redeem yourself.” I noticed how she liked saying Dad’s old name, “Marne,” as though it was a battle she had won. “We know you absconded with the security device that your mother stole by abusing her position as a trusted member of the medical team here in the Bartizan. There is no point in you denying it any longer. However, if you tell me where it is, I will be merciful and allow you to resume your place on the SilverShip as a three-star SilverSeed, which brings not inconsiderable privileges, so I am told. If you do not tell me where this device is, you will follow your brother into the Astro Room. Right now.”
I knew she meant it. And I couldn’t face that. I just couldn’t. I’m not as brave as Tomas, I know that now. “It’s hidden inside my little brother’s bear,” I lied. “In Tedward.”
“And where is this traitorous bear?” she asked.
I might have smiled if I hadn’t been so scared. So even Tedward was a traitor. The Guardian was right; it clearly does run in our family.
“With my brother Jonno,” I said. “He never lets go of it. I can take you to him. And I just want to say that Jonno didn’t want to escape. I made him come with me because he wouldn’t let go of his bear.” At least I can do this one thing for Jonno, get him back to the SilverShip where he wanted to be.
The Guardian swiveled on her heel and marched off to sit behind her desk. Her dark eyes were little slits of anger. “If you lie to me one more time, I will have you sent next door this minute.”
“I’m not lying,” I say desperately. “I’m not. I promise. Tedward is with Jonno. Truly he is.”
“The bear is not with your brother Jonathan,” she said with a nasty little laugh. “Your brother Jonathan has been returned by an informant and is back in the SilverShip crew quarters. The bear, however, is not.”
I couldn’t make sense of that at all. Who had returned Jonno? Surely not Maximillian? I push that thought from my mind—I know Maximillian would never do such a thing. And then I realize who it must be: the owner of those sneaky footsteps. “Then someone must have made him leave it behind,” I say. “Because he takes that bear everywhere.”
The Guardian nodded slowly. I could see that made sense to her. “Very well. So tell me, where exactly did he leave it?”
“In a house on the Inner Circle,” I say. “I don’t know the number, but I know which one it is.”
Madam Guardian nods. “So the Sneak said. Very well, you will take us there. We shall go and collect the bear.”
“We?” I was totally shocked. Surely Madam Guardian didn’t mean that she would come with me?
But that was exactly what she did mean. And so, in one of the strangest days of my life I find myself—in my three-star SilverSeed uniform—walking out of the massive pillared front entrance of the Bartizan three paces behind the Guardian in her black velvet finery and gold-banded hems. I wait while she steps into a glossy black-and-gold box with lattice windows and a long, sturdy pole running out from each corner. I know this is a walking chair but only because I’ve seen a picture, I’ve never seen one for real. It is made from a smooth lacquered wood with a shine that reminds me of Maximillian’s wing cases.
Four hefty chair-carriers pick up the poles and set off briskly in step along the white marble pavement. The light tinkle of a bell comes from inside the walking chair and the carriers stop. One of the bodyguards leans down to hear what is being said from the other side of the lattice; then he comes over to me and tells me I am to walk in front of the chair and lead the way.
And so, flanked by four guards of my own, I set off. As we pass by, people fall silent; they step back and I noticed that some make the sign to ward off the evil eye. Twilight is falling now and the brilliant white facades surrounding the square look dark and false. Which of course, they are. The Inner Circle is a wide street leading off the far end of the square and as I head into it I focus on my shiny new deck shoes as they
take me ever onward toward Maximillian’s house. One step and then another—sometimes that is all you can do.
Chapter 22
Under One Roof
M
I land on my roof, clumsy with tiredness, and there is that rat again, watching me lose my footing and slide backward down the slope. It reminds me of Mama, always catching me at my most embarrassing moments. I glare at the rat, grab hold of the chimney stack and hang there for a few minutes to allow my wing muscles to recover. Then, like a crab, I inch my way back up until I am by the skylight. From beneath my underwings, I take my dagger and cut into the thick blanket of tarred hemp that has been plastered over it; then I roll it back, flip open the skylight and drop down into the cool darkness of my house.
I lie low on my landing mat in the soft silence and at once I know that I am the only creature inside my house. The boy has gone. We who are Roach are sensitive to vibrations caused by movement, even breathing, and I feel none at all. The house is as still as a stone. I decide to check through every room to allay my fear that the young human has come to harm and is lying somewhere unconscious—or worse. I flip down my goggles so that I can see in the dark and head for the room he was sleeping in, even though the door is open and it is clear that the bird has flown. Inside it is empty apart from the pile of blankets in the middle and the little nest under the eaves where Kaitlin Drew was sleeping. It is on these that I now see the sad sight of the boy’s bear lying facedown, which makes me fear that someone has taken him by force. I sit the putrid bear up on the blankets so that it is able to observe the room and creep out, but as I close the door the wretched doorknob falls upon my foot. I hop along the landing in pain and collapse onto my nest, holding my foot.
