The Fall

by Laura Liddell Nolen

  I had nothing to lose, did I? I decided to play the only card I could: the truth.

  “Ark Five.”

  Six suits and three guards froze.

  “I might know a little more than I’ve been letting on.”

  The captain removed his glasses, wiped them on his tie, then slid them back onto his nose, all while looking directly at me. He sat, and the others followed suit. The lipstick lady nodded at the guards, and they closed the doors, remaining in the room, motionless.

  “Very well, Miss Turner. You certainly have our attention.”

  Eleven

  I waited until everyone had settled back in. “First, I want to know what’s happened to Eren and my father.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said the captain.

  “Then I’m afraid I don’t know anything about Five.”

  He gave a sigh. “Miss Turner. We are not your enemies. In spite of what you may believe, we are trying to help.”

  “I am just about sick of hearing that I’m being locked up for the greater good. Tell me what’s happened to Eren. Is he—did he survive?”

  The captain took a moment to weigh out his options before deciding to placate me. “Commander Everest is alive. He’s in our custody.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” He drew a breath, loading it up with whatever threats he planned to level at me, when the lady with the lipstick laid a hand on his arm. “You may not be aware,” she said, “but the Arks are designed to need each other.”

  “So everyone keeps telling me.”

  “It is more serious than that,” she said, glancing at her colleagues for tacit permission before continuing. “We are unable to make planetfall without the assistance of Ark Five.”

  I looked at her. “Why not?”

  “In spite of our most advanced shelter modules, the radiation from the sun would kill us off in less than a generation. Possibly sooner. We needed Ark Five to produce the electromagnetic fields necessary to shield us.”

  “We need EM poles,” the captain explained, “or we cannot produce an atmosphere. We really are quite trapped out here. To find the persons responsible for its destruction…” he touched the table eagerly. Something about their tone inclined me to be more helpful than I usually was with panels and threats and people wearing suits. And adults in general, actually.

  All right, fine. Authority in general.

  “Okay,” I began, “awhile ago, I was in Comm Con in the North American Ark.”

  “When did you say?” he interrupted.

  “I don’t know, like a few weeks after the meteor. Anyway,” I said, “I ended up spending some time on the Guardian Level. I saw the comms. The communications. All of them.”

  They leaned in, and I found myself mirroring their posture. “I saw one going to Ark Five.”

  Six pairs of eyes gave me the most skeptical blinks I’d ever seen.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t think the Ark was destroyed. I think it’s still out there.”

  “I am sorry to tell you, Miss Turner, but such a thing is not possible,” the captain said gravely. “Our scanners have never ceased to search for it.”

  “Well, you might want to check on those.”

  Lipstick studied me, rubbing her cheek thoughtfully. “What did it say?”

  “It said, The bird will fly on X.”

  “And whence came this mysterious message?” said the captain. “Did you happen to see that, too?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It came from you.”

  In the silence that followed, Charles adjusted his jacket, angry. Lipstick pursed her wide mouth into a prim frown. The captain tossed his stem onto the table in frustration, and the others gave an audible groan.

  “It did,” I said, my voice stronger. “From this Ark. I think it meant the Treaty. I think it was an offer of protection.”

  The captain sat back in his chair. “Setting aside the fact that I would certainly be aware of any official contact between my Ark and that one, and the sheer imagination required to produce such an idea, let us examine this further. Was the message encrypted?”

  “No,” I said quietly. “But it was in Morse code. And I never said it was official.”

  “Morse code,” he said slowly. “And you are familiar with that?”

  I felt my lower lip push out a little. “No. But I showed it to… a friend. And he told me what it meant.” I didn’t want to involve Eren any more than necessary until I could be sure he was safe.

  “Was the message transmitted in English?” asked the captain.

  I closed my eyes. “No. But he—my friend speaks French.”

  Lipstick rolled her eyes. “And it went directly to Ark Five?”

  I forced myself to breath normally. “Well,” I said, then needed to clear my throat. “It went to an Ark, and it wasn’t one of the other four. Those were marked. Then there was a big, blank space—”

  At this, a second woman who’d been silent up to then picked up her screen and prepared to leave. “This is ridiculous,” she said.

  I clamped down on my voice, unwilling to let it rise. In my experience, no one listens to girls when they’re shouting. “Look. There was a transmission between this Ark and what could only have been another Ark. I’m sure of it.”

  “A message cannot be transmitted between two Arks by any means but official channels,” said Lipstick, her voice equally low. “They receive special designation in every comm system out there. And no one outside of this room has the power to do that from our Ark.”

  I gave her a dark look. “Then it came from someone in this room.” There was a heavy pull on my arm, and I felt myself being lifted to my feet. I gave an angry shrug against the guard responsible, but he had me halfway to the door before I could collect my thoughts.

  “Set up a transmitter! Send another message!” I shouted. “I know what I saw. Ark Five is out there. Hey!” I said, jerking against the guard. His grip began to hurt. “It might not be too late to find them!”

  The door closed behind me, and I had one final glance at the room. Everyone was preparing to leave, shaking their heads in frustration and even bland amusement. No one so much as watched me go.

  Well. No one except Charles.

  Ten paces left. Five steps back. Ten paces right. Five more forward.

  Repeat.

  As cells go, my new digs were bigger than some, not as big as most. The only feature of interest, other than the former senator experiencing his first turn inside, was the enormous mirror in the door.

  Well, it was a mirror to me. From the other direction, it—

  “Charlotte. You must. Stop. Pacing.”

  “Sorry. I like to get a feel for the space before I settle in. Helps me think.”

  Dad was seated on the lone mattress, head in hands, facing directly down. He rubbed his hair with both palms, back and forth, back and forth. Everyone’s got their tics, even on lockup.

  Especially on lockup.

  And there was only one reason why they’d keep me in a cell with my father. “So, you know we’re being recorded,” I said casually. Translation: Don’t mention West. “You know that’s a two-way mirror.”

  “Yes, Charlotte. I’m not as dim as I must appear.”

  “I don’t think you’re—all right. Sorry.”

  “We should compare notes,” he said.

  “Okay,” I nodded. “What did they ask you?”

  “Oh, you know. How long had I been planning the violent overthrow of the European Ark. Where was the rendezvous with Adam. The usual.” His voice had a husky tone, and I wondered whether they’d hurt him. At the same time, I didn’t want to know the answer. “What happened to Five. Got that one a few times.”

  This time, I could hear it in his tone. They had hurt him.

  He lifted his head, and I wondered if one side of his face looked swollen, or if I were imagining it. “You?”

  I shrugged. “Not much, actually.
They took my blood a few times. Asked about Adam. I had a fun meeting with a bunch of suits in a big white room. They wanted to know if I was under any foreign influences. You’d have liked them.”

  “What’d you tell them?”

  “You mean, other than the ones that put the handcuffs on?”

  He sighed, unamused.

  “I told them he’s dangerous,” I said. “My other meetings were a lot more colorful. No suits, for one. No exposed faces, either.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I gave them everything they asked for. I even drew maps of the control room.”

  “Charlotte, they’re probably planning—”

  “A takeover? Maybe.” I shrugged. “But anything is better than what it’s been for the past five years.”

  He gave a short, resigned nod. “Do you get the sense that they feel sympathetic toward the people on the Ark, at least?”

  “Are you asking if they’re going to blow it up, like An was planning? I don’t think we can put it past anyone anymore. I mean, they asked you about Five, right? Clearly, it’s on the table. Did they mention Eren?”

  “No,” he said briefly. His face was pale; his tone, distracted. Something else was going on in his head.

  “Well, did you ask about him?”

  “No. I was… preoccupied by other lines of thought.”

  “Have they found Adam?” I asked.

  “Of course not. They say he never got on the Ark. He was on the hopper when it blew.”

  I snorted. “Sure. They didn’t see it, so it must not have happened. Dad, they never found the pieces of the hopper.”

  “There wouldn’t have been much to find, based on what I saw. They may be right, Charlotte.” He rubbed his knuckles twice, then went back to his scalp.

  “Then he died in space. Along with our entire Ark. And we’d know about it.”

  “It’s fairly typical to withhold information during an interrogation,” he said quietly.

  “The destruction of an entire Ark is hardly routine information, Dad.”

  He stopped rubbing his scalp. “Speaking of—they did mention the sphere a few times. On this Ark.” His tone was soft and slow. Hesitant. Like he was trying to decide whether to keep talking.

  I looked up. “What sphere?”

  “The city-sphere closest to the landing pad. It was completely destroyed.”

  I felt cold. “City?”

  Dad nodded. “Whole thing took a hit, apparently.”

  “Oh.” That was—I tried to picture it, but I just couldn’t. All those people. “Oh, Dad.”

  “If he is alive, then we have to find him, Charlotte.”

  I looked at him. His face was different from mine. On second glance, I saw that it wasn’t swollen at all. It was pulled tight, with tinges of red.

  Dad wasn’t horrified. He wasn’t in shock, or pain. At least not physically.

  He was furious.

  It was several more seconds before I caught up to him. And when I did, it was like falling off a frozen cliff and down into a vast, barren ocean.

  “West,” I breathed. “Mar—”

  “That’s enough,” he said, and I shut up. This was not the time to advertise the names of our family members.

  “We have to find him,” I agreed, and he nodded. But neither one of us was talking about my brother. “We have to kill him.”

  The days passed, and we were presented neither the opportunity to escape nor the chance to assassinate our former tyrant. Aloud, we wondered whether Adam had regained control of the North American Ark or just disappeared. Both things we had already mentioned to our interrogators. We couldn’t talk about anything to do with our family, so once our scant speculation had ended, we simply stayed quiet.

  While we were made wary by the surveillance, we were just as careful about each other. And it wasn’t long before the silence grew thick and strong in the tiny cell we shared with it, fed by memories of the pain we’d volleyed back and forth since I was young. A day passed without conversation, and then two, and I did not know if the quiet served to shelter us from our guilt or strangle us by it. But I came to dream of the day we could escape and leave those conversations on the floor of the cell, unspoken.

  I longed to fight, to kill, to win back my brother and my ship.

  I did not long to remember. I did not long to forgive. My father must have felt the same, I decided, since he didn’t speak either.

  So I slept, and my father crowded my dreams. I woke, and there he sat, silent, tallying up the sins of his daughter and worrying over the life of his son. His face grew thin, and he stopped eating. Dark circles bloomed underneath his eyes, resting just above his sunken cheeks. He rubbed his head constantly. A low, persistent level of fear ran through me as I wondered over the fate of my family and my ship. Isaiah and Eren. I shoved everything out of mind. I slept as much as I could. I thought wistfully about being in stasis, when I didn’t have to think at all. I shut that thought out, too.

  I worried I was going crazy. I worried that it didn’t matter if I did.

  The light in the cell never altered, and our food, some kind of unholy vegetable-protein synth, was delivered by hands—or hydraulics—unseen. One day, as I lay on the cot, the room grew suddenly dark. I gasped, and my father stood over me. I couldn’t see his face, just the outline of his shoulders, which I traced down, down, until I realized that his arms ended at my neck.

  He had always wanted me dead, hadn’t he? Not out loud, and probably not even consciously. But deep down, he had to have known that was a better situation than the one I’d put him in: a rich, powerful man who couldn’t even control his own daughter. Who had to have special press conferences at every re-election, addressing his child’s latest troubles. Who could never run for president, or High Commander.

  Who hadn’t gotten me out of prison, because when I was inside, he could sleep at night, knowing I was finally contained.

  And then he was strangling me. I tried to breathe, but my neck was closed. My head jerked back and forth, to no avail. I screamed, but only a gurgle came out. So I kicked him. One leg, then the other, then both, again and again. His chest was made of rubber, and nothing happened.

  I screamed, over and over, until at last the lights returned, and my father’s voice filled the cell alongside my own.

  “Charlotte? Charlotte. Wake up!”

  “NO! Dad, stop!” I twisted back and forth and fell sideways off the flimsy cot. When my legs hit the floor, I came fully awake. But I didn’t stop screaming. I couldn’t.

  I kicked at him, over and over, until I finally landed a blow. He withdrew his hands, which were at my elbow, not my neck, and his shoulder hit the wall. I raised my hands to my neck, protecting it, but its only ache came from inside my throat.

  His eyes were narrowed, and his voice was overly calm: the tone people use when they’re trying to make you calm. When they’re trying to control you.

  That tone had always made me angry, and today was hardly the exception. I continued to scream, unable to form thoughts or words, and the mirrored panel slid open. Hands grabbed my father, forcing him down onto his knees.

  “Wait!” he said, and fear gave his voice an edge. “She needs—”

  More hands, this time for me. I kicked them, too, and the crack of a stunner penetrated the wall in my brain.

  “Stop!” Dad was screaming. “STOP!” A knee in his chest. A stunner in mine.

  It ignited, and the world exploded into electric stars.

  One final scream, the last of the oxygen pressed out of my lungs. I struggled to inhale, but I couldn’t, and blackness slipped in around the edges of the stars. It was relatively quiet as my arms were bound behind my back, but when they pulled me to my knees, then up to my feet, I could finally breathe again.

  The door opened, and coherent thought returned to me.

  Well. One coherent thought returned. I would never be safe. I could never be loved. The only person who cared for me had died in my place, and
now I was alone in the universe.

  You could trap me in a cell with someone else, and I would always be alone. Case in point.

  So I took my breath, and the guards hustled me toward the door.

  I looked back at my father. His face was stricken with panic. The lower part of his nose was rimmed in fresh blood. One part of my brain decided that someone must have hit him. He was pleading with the guards, telling them something, but I couldn’t hear what.

  The doors began to close between us, and we locked eyes. And I realized I’d been screaming my one coherent thought since before the stunner blasted me. And finally, I heard it. It sliced through the silence that had grown hard in our cell, cutting it off cleanly at the root.

  “YOU LEFT ME TO DIE!” My jaw locked in pain, but the words came out again and again. Everything else was just an act between us. A pantomime. The door to the cell was locked between us, but I screamed at the wall. I screamed at my father. You left me to die. Not just at the end of the world, but every night I spent in a cell on Earth before that. Half my childhood, lost to fear and darkness. And my father hadn’t bothered to save me.

  You left me to die.

  You left me to die.

  You left me to die.

  Twelve

  I came to in a hospital bed at the end of a long room full of other beds behind curtains. I jiggled my wrist to confirm it was chained, and then my ankles. Metallic clanks answered.

  Authority was so predictable.

  Although, they’d known I would try to escape, so maybe I was, too.

  I blinked. My eyes hurt. Actually, my everything hurt. My muscles were sore from seizing up at the stunner.

  On the bright side, I didn’t feel like I was drugged. And on the very bright side, I was no longer in the holding cell.

  The last time I’d been in a clean, white bed like this, Isaiah had come to me. So had Eren. I realized that I missed them both. Perhaps it was the change of atmosphere, but my head was clearer, too.

  I thought about my dad, and about my screaming. I regretted that. I could have lived the rest of my life without pulling that up from the ground we’d buried it in. We could have gone on being together, being a family, if it weren’t for me. The thought was painfully familiar.