by J. D. Hale
“Absolutely.” Rowan interjected, needing a word in the conversation.
I started walking faster, trying to reach the door as quickly as possible.
Reaching the entrance before Salah, but only by seconds, Rowan took a moment to throw me a look.
“Why did you lie to him?” Rowan wondered in a hushed voice as we began in the building, “We both know that you still believe in the religion we grew up with. We both pray to the gods every night.”
“I lied because he shouldn’t know anything about us that he can use against us. At this point, anything and everything we tell him can be turned around to the police. If the police know that we’re Nalakines, they would tell us something ridiculous about the religion that would make me come after them into an obvious trap. You know what they say about those who lie…”
“‘The wise man tells the truth, but the survivor lies.’” He responded coolly, reciting one of his favorite quotes, said originally by some odd Nalakine philosopher.
When we reached the inside, it was precisely as I remembered from one visit with my parents. The building was originally intended for live plays and symphonies. It was a giant cylindrical room, with a stage at the center and rows upon rows of seats going up the walls. The entire ceiling was a portrait, similar to that which is painted on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel, but instead of the single god portrayed in that painting; this was all of our gods, bestowing their individual gifts onto a child. And, as my mother and I had noticed on many occasions, that child looked an awful lot like I did when I was seven. At the center of the floor was an enormous gold gilt throne encrusted with rubies and diamonds, where the Prime Minister would sit for the press conference, and then later a signing for her latest novel, The Power of Saizian Authority, a personal memoir of her rise to power fourteen years ago.
I measured how high up we were, knowing that I had just barely survived an accumulated 120 foot fall. We had entered the third floor, about thirty feet up, an easily survivable fall. I would even land on my feet from this height.
“Alright boys, here’s the plan. Salah, nobody knows who you are on this planet, so it’s your job to go downstairs, the normal way, and get her signature. This next bit is the most imperative. I don’t care what paper you use to get her autograph, but you must use this,” I said, and motioned for Rowan to take the pen out of his pocket. He did so, and I passed it to Salah. “This pen will record her signature, which we need to get in to the Institute. Now go, but don’t be an idiot.” I leaned in, pressing a piece of paper into Salah’s hand, on which I had written 428 Malika Drive in big black letters. I whispered in his ear, “Meet me there at seven.”
His eyes widened, and Rowan looked angry, or questioning, or both, but I gave Salah a push and watched as he walked down a flight of stairs near us.
“Kairee,” Rowan said as soon as Salah was out of earshot, “what are you going to do?”
“You’ll see as soon as Salah gets the signature.” I told him, sparking a light of interest.
I scan the perimeter of the arena, searching for anything out of place. Security guard line ever exit, all armed and looking alert. The floor was beginning to line with eager citizens, waiting to see their beloved ruler.
“You’re making me more nervous than usual.” Rowan said, following my eyes to the bottom floor, where I saw trumpeters walking in.
“It’s starting.” I whispered to my brother, and the room grew hushed. The trumpeters blew out the Saizian national anthem, a sweet, slow song sung in the Holy Language, a tribute to the intergalactic war that led to the formation of our nation, and then the final verse led the tale of our planet’s rise to being the leader in Galactic League technology and advances.
I watched Salah shift nervously from a few floors below, unsure of what to do. As the song rang through the building, Salah glanced up at me, and I stopped singing to give him a little smile. He straightened out his posture and fixed his tie, shifting nervously. The song ended and the Prime Minister, a tall, thin woman with golden ringlets and big, blue, Saizian eyes filled with strength. She strutted to the throne and sat down. When she sat and scanned the crowd, it was as if the entire world was suddenly holding its breath. The Prime Minister had a tendency to find anything minutely incorrect and call it out in front of all the officials. I slinked down so she wouldn’t see me with her hawk eyes in the crowd. Rowan kept glancing sideways at me until I got up.
I was more than a little nervous about the Prime Minister herself. She’s been known for a feisty attitude. Her fearlessness and modern demeanor led to her being elected ten years ago.
“As everyone knows,” the Prime Minister began, “our planet is in a state of, to put it simply, holding our breath. The criminal Kairee Dunham, raised here on Saize, has been eluding to her break in of the Institute with her brother and Salah the Younger. And, much less popular in the news but just as dire, there have been threats, by an unknown source, against our whole nation. I know that the media has been trying to keep the public in the dark about what, exactly, these threats entail, but I feel it is my duty as your leader to tell you what has been said behind closed doors. The threats are from a self proclaimed, very powerful woman.” At these words, my stomach clenched. Zenda had been threatening my home? “She’s claimed to have accomplices high in our police rankings. Her greatest coercion is a horror unimaginable. Her goal is to overthrow the entire Saizian nation through our own police force, one way or another. She’s threatened our planet, and this is unforgivable. Now that you all know the truth, this press conference can officially begin. I’ll take questions now.”
Hundreds of hands shot up around the room, and the Prime Minister chose several reporters to ask their questions. Naturally, there were a few about me.
“Do you fear that Kairee Dunham will actually steal the Xeron?” A reporter from a local paper asked, leaning forward from the second floor.
Our leader pondered this for a moment, and then replied, “I have faith in the systems put together by the Institute leaders. Even the famed Dunham twins couldn’t crack the codes, fight the fights and learn her way through the tunnels. I’ve been told that Kairee and her brother are brilliant, but I have no proof to believing so.” She smiled, and my mouth almost dropped open. I had been feared by galaxies, threatened by planets, and respected by nations, but I had never, in all my life, been insulted on such a high level.
I looked over at my brother and scowled, leaning over to him.
“I can’t believe she said that.” I growled, angered.
“I know!” He snarled, “We’ll just have to prove her wrong though. Right?” His eyes narrowed, knowing that I was prone to retaliating, no matter what the consequences.
And he was absolutely right in that assumption.
“You’ll see.” I smirked.
“You do know that a public assault on the designated leader is a crime worthy of the death penalty.” He replied.
“You think they’ll ever get me? I’ve had the death penalty on my head for years” I couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“So you are planning to attack her?!” He whispered, hushed and angry.
“Not exactly an attack, per say. More of a surprise. I just want to let her know never to underestimate me, in a semi-violent way. That’s all.” I said quietly.
He glared at me but said nothing more.
Half an hour later, the minister called a recess and began taking autographs and questions form the public.
I saw Salah shove his way through a line, soon reaching the front.
I prepared for my moment. Salah was handed a microphone for the question I had told him to ask.
“If Kairee Dunham was here right now, what would you tell her?” He asked, seemingly blameless.
She signed a picture for him and smiled, then answered quietly, “She sure as hell isn't getting into my Institute as long as I’m sitting on the throne.” The host of people in the hall laughed a bit, some glancing around nervously, as if lookin
g to see if I was there.
“Goodbye Rowan. I’ll be at home some time tonight. Don’t worry about me.”
An inquisitive look crossed his face, and he opened his mouth, but I took a deep breath and jumped over the railing. The room grew silent, every person stunned to see me pulling such a stunt. Jumping over railings is a rather new phenomenon in my world, and I’m enjoying it thoroughly. Shocking the world on national television is always fun.
I landed flat on my feet, unshaken. Strutting down the floor, I watched as the Prime Minister’s big eyes grew even wider, full of fear.
“Hello, Areesta,” I said, using her first name to indicate how I had no fear of her, “I’m glad to know that you have faith in my exploits. But, I’ll have you know that I’m going to easily get into the Institute.” I smiled maliciously.
“I’ll never give you that signature, so you can’t get in.” She replied just as hatefully.
“You just did.” I said, nabbing the paper from Salah’s hands.
“You can’t just take that from a civilian! Gaurds!” She called out.
In return, I shouted, “Rowan! Stop them!”
My brother pulled off his nose, jumped the rail and began attacking policemen.
“He’s not a civilian.” I replied, turning to Salah and pulling off his fake nose, “This is Salah the Younger, and you just gave us permission to enter the Institute.”
“What are you going to do? I’ll just have them shut the Institute down.” She rebutted, and I laughed.
“Oh you know you can’t do that.” I smiled, knowing she was surprised, like most, by my extensive knowledge involving anything in the galaxies, “the whole Institute is run by machines. Everything from the security checks and air locks to the doors and lights – it’s all run by robots! It’s just about impossible to shut it down. You’d have to hack into every system and tell every scientist on this planet to work on it simply to learn the first line of code that controls the light switch to room eight B! The Institute’s controlled by a million page code that was invented by Clyveien the Third at the turn of the forty-eighth century in an effort to revolutionize modern technology, which he failed at spectacularly because the of the- Never mind that, it’s not important. Anyways, it would take even me months to shut the Institute down, and you were simply being deceptive to try and trick me, which makes sense because Salike, the goddess of charm and deception is your patron goddess.” I chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the shocked look on her face, her pristine eyebrows knit together in confusion.
Gaurds were getting closer as Rowan lost steam, going exactly to plan.
Then, I started giving away my plan in full detail, “And now, since cameras are recording us from every angle and we’re surrounded by police officers from fourteen planets, I’m going to do something completely illegal that will definitely get you to realize how dangerous I really am.”
When a confused look settled across her face, I whipped the golden pin out of my hair and swiped it across her arm, leaving a gash a half inch deep.
She glared at me, “What is that supposed to do? Give me a little cut? I thought that was beneath you, Kairee Dunham.”
“That ‘little cut,’ as you so crudely put it, was coated in a poison of my own design. If you decide you want it fixed, find me.” I replied with a sweet smile.
“There’s no way I’ll ever turn to you!” She whispered angrily.
“Tell yourself that tomorrow morning when your flesh is being eaten away and nothing can change that except me.”
Only one person saw the transaction between the Prime Minister and I. He glared at me, our past seeming to radiate between us.
I stared into the eyes of Dmitri Ivanov for three seconds, and then I ran.
June 19th 3:20 pm
The Streets of Saize
After the session at the Prime Minister’s conference, I jumped in my car and drove away, the police hot on my tail. Behind me in a white police car was Dmitri Ivanov, his siren flaring. The lights touched my window as the night began to surround me.
“Pull over Kairee! You can’t run away forever!” Came Dmitri’s voice in the night, imploring me to yell at him. He knew I would.
I spoke into one of my favorite functions on the high class model I was driving – microphone with speakers that would blare out the back.
“Oh, Dmitri,” I spoke like a mother scolding her child, “So many years, so little real progress. You’ve tried to capture me too many times to count, but you’ll never, ever succeed.” I chided, knowing it would get to him.
Behind me, I heard shots ringing out. I was so tempted to swerve my car around and stop him in his tracks, but I resisted, telling my self that in moments, I would be near my house, and he wouldn’t be able to see in the force-field like me, so I would simply disappear. I drove as fast as possible, my foot almost breaking the gas pedal. I was suddenly in the force-field, driving up my driveway instead of down a busy road.
I jumped out of the car, thinking about the date tonight, more or less only going to appease Salah, and then get him out of my hair. There was only one guy that I ever really loved, and he lives in California, the heir to a mining fortune. Honestly, I’ve pretty much lost interest in Salah as a romantic interest, knowing that I would probably discontinue any talking with him when I had the Xeron.
But then I received a call. The house phone – a number that only fifty people across the universes had the privilege of knowing – rang out around the house. The first thing to strike me was curiosity, wondering who would be calling me, and, exponentially more importantly, why.
I picked up the phone and suspiciously asked, “Hello?”
“Hey, Kairee,” A very familiar voice said into my ear.
“Oh my god.” I was dumbstruck by his voice.
“I thought you should know that your invitation finally got accepted, thanks to me.” I could hear his smile through the phone, “And I know that you’re always trying to get in a good fight. So, come out to LA, and fight me. Like old times?”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you there in an hour. Can I bring some friends?”
“Rowan’s always welcome. Luckily here in California, hardly anyone’s heard of you two, so you won’t be arrested. Come to South Marine Avenue, I’ll find you.”
“Can I bring Rowan and another…friend…of mine?” I asked, not wanting him thinking there was anything between Salah and I, because there isn't.
“Another guy?” I could tell he was rolling his eyes.
“Not like that.” I replied nonchalantly.
“Whatever you say. If he can fight, he can come. I’ll be waiting for you.”
The line went dead, and I was suddenly thrilled.
I dialed Salah’s phone.
“Hey Kairee,” Salah said suspiciously when he answered, obviously wondering why I would be calling at this specific moment.
“Salah, I’m sorry but we have to go to LA. Now.”
I heard him sigh, “Okay. I guess I’m not surprised that we have to jet off somewhere. I’ll be right over.”
Rowan arrived at the house a few minutes later.
“Row!” I yelled when I heard the door click.
He rushed to the kitchen, assuming there was something wrong.
I smiled, letting him know that I was happy.
“What’s up?” He was suspicious, as usual.
“We’re going to LA.” I grinned.
“Are we going to see who I think we are?” He was smiling too now.
“Yep, he just called.”
We rushed upstairs, and I flew down the hallway to my rooms. I almost skipped into the closet, pulled out a few bags and set them down on the floor. I threw in some clothes, various shoes, and my makeup. For the next few minutes, I ran around the house collecting things I would need for a few weeks. I could still hear the voice in my head, the same voice I had wanted to hear for months.
June 19th 4:20 pm
LA, California, USA, Planet Earth
Once
we were on the street I had been told, I looked around for the familiar face I knew was waiting for me. Salah looked nervous, after I told him we were meeting a boy and I had accidentally let the words ‘an old flame of mine’ slip out, on accident. That was a while back though, I had told him, and he shouldn’t be worried. Of course, even I knew that wasn’t true. If it was romance Salah was worried about, he definitely had cause to be scared. The boy we were meeting was charming, attractive, and charismatic, just to name a few traits I had always known about him
“Kairee Dunham in the flesh,” I heard the familiar, seductive voice behind me, and I felt a tug at my heart, “I’m honored to see you again.”
I whipped around, ecstatic.
“Cal!” I was so excited to see him, I couldn’t contain myself. He hugged me, a feeling I had missed over the years. As I pulled back, suddenly embarrassed, Cal left his hands on my hips, “You look just like you did last year,” I smiled.
“And you’re just as gorgeous as ever,” He smirked. He took in my casual outfit, and was almost chuckling as he, too, was used to seeing me in formality – I had worn a pair of white washed jean shorts, and I billowy green tank top, with pristine white and teak wedges, with my hair up in tight ponytail to keep it out of my eyes, “I’ve missed seeing that beautiful face of yours this year,”
“You’re charming as ever.” I grinned. I smiled more and took him in, so familiar to my eyes. His scarlet hair was spiked around his head, shining in the sun. I looked into his bright, pale blue eyes staring into mine. He looked like the stereotypical American heart-throb-poster-boy type, stunning in every way. Long eye-lashes framed his dazzling eyes. He was wearing a white tee shirt that allowed me to see his perfectly defined chest, a leather jacket over, and a pair of black jeans, and he happened to have on my least favorite shoes, black chucks, but he looked surprisingly comfortable, laid back as always. He held his bright red motorcycle helmet in the crook of him arm, and his hair was flying around his head from the wind. His skin held a light tan now, but I knew he was naturally pale. Not nearly as pale as me, of course, but as pale as an American could get.
