by Ava Jae
“Naï, naï.” Deimos waves his hand. “He’s okay, he’s just not used to this. Right, Eros?”
I gulp. “Uh. Sure.”
“Good. Oh, ej, look.” He moves aside, sliding his arm around my shoulders so I can see—oh.
“Wow,” Mal whispers.
The endless packed white sand is gone—instead, we’re lowering into the largest room I’ve ever seen; it goes so deep I can’t even see the end of it from here. The room is split into different sections with projections creating divisions, and hundreds of people—maybe over a thousand?—in black and gold uniforms walk around from division to division. The walls are lined with enormous glass screens that seamlessly cover floor to ceiling.
This must be it. The lab.
“Impressive, shae?” Deimos says. “And this is just one floor. Like I said earlier, I’m not even sure how many floors there are. More than ten, because that’s the lowest I’ve ever been.”
Kosim groans. “How in the world did you get clearance to go ten floors deep? You weren’t even registered!”
Deimos snickers. “I may have dated an Asheron techie at one time, too.”
“Kala alejha.” Kosim rolls his eyes.
I bite my lip and focus on the room as we slowly lower to the ground. It shouldn’t bother me that Deimos has dated so many guys—I mean, I’d expected as much, given his personality and general attractiveness—but it just confirms what I suspected: that he’s way more experienced than I am. Which isn’t hard to do given my serious lack of experience in general, and especially with guys, but the divide may be even wider than I thought.
So that’s great. Because I wasn’t out of my depth enough as it is, I guess.
The glass doors slide open and we step out of the terrible broiling box—into the coolest air I’ve felt in ages. I close my eyes and take a deep, slow breath as my sweat chills on my skin. Stars, it feels good.
“Told you it’d be cooler down here.” Deimos pats my shoulder. “Are you okay now?”
I swallow and nod. “Shae. I’m okay. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” He smiles and lowers his arm off my shoulders as a woman approaches us. She wears her hair short, like Eljan military-cut short. She also wears what I’m pretty sure is the same uniform all the guys wear here, which is interesting. And she’s tall—like, taller than me.
“Deimos, it’s wonderful to see you again.” She smiles a bright smile that’s almost—flirtatious? Which is weird because I didn’t think Deimos liked women. Then again, he never actually said that, and I never actually asked. Maybe she doesn’t know? But she knows Deimos, which means she probably knew him before I knew him, so that seems unlikely. Maybe I’m just reading too much into this. It’s just a smile. She’s allowed to smile without it meaning anything.
Fuck. This is ridiculous. Stop being jealous.
“Dara, it’s wonderful to see you.” Deimos smiles back. “And might I add, you look fantastic—and happy. I’m glad to see you doing so well.”
It takes everything in me not to narrow my eyes at him. Am I reading too much into this?
Maybe they’re friends?
Her smile widens. “Thank you, I appreciate it, truly. I really am very happy. And Sira Eros, it’s an honor, truly, to meet you.” She bows. “My name is Dara, as Deimos said. And you must be Mal.”
“Shae,” Mal says casually. “Um. Good to meet you.”
“I’m glad you’ve all come down.” Dara looks at me. “We certainly have a lot to discuss. But before I begin, I’d like to introduce you to my team.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, and Dara nods, turns around, and starts down the long aisle running down the center of the giant room.
“Wait, she’s the techie you dated?” Kosim hisses to Deimos.
Deimos grins. “Close, but not quite. I dated her twin brother, who also worked here for a time until he transferred to a facility in A’Sharo.”
Kosim sighs. “Of course you did.”
Someone Deimos dated transferred to A’Sharo. Where Deimos lived. That sounds like a serious relationship thing—unless it was a coincidence. Was it a coincidence?
I glance at Deimos. Somehow I doubt it was a coincidence.
Fucken—stop. I need to stop.
Deimos smirks and we follow her a decent way down the room, through a projection wall with text I can’t read scrolling endlessly into the steel floor. The partitioned area has a bunch of different—stations, I guess—each with more glasses than one person could ever need and all sorts of different tools I don’t recognize. They look complicated. Like something you might expect to see in a hospital or some kinduv engineering room.
Dara’s team has, like, twenty people, and I definitely don’t remember most of their names, though they all introduce themselves and say how great it is to meet me. It’s weird, being in a room of Sepharon who genuinely seem not to hate me. But then again, they could all just be good actors. They know they’re stuck with me, so in their place, I’d pretend to be nice and happy about my appointment, too.
Still. Even if it’s all fake, it’s a nicer introduction than I’m used to getting.
“So where are we with the nanites?” I ask when all the intros are over.
“Excellent question,” Dara says. “We’re now at a point of convergence where we have to make a decision as to which direction to go in—something I was going to brief you on anyway, so it’s really rather convenient you came to us.” She smiles.
“Um. Okay. So what’s the decision you have to make?”
“In terms of reestablishing the planetary nanite system, we have to decide what to prioritize. We can either focus on trying to revive the damaged and dead nanites—which is faster, but could cause problems if the damage is too severe and they malfunction, but unfortunately, we won’t really know the extent of the damage until we attempt to bring them back online. Alternatively, we could prioritize making and coding new nanites, but doing so will take much longer, as will distributing them worldwide.”
I hesitate. Speed is obviously pretty blazing important here, especially given the disease and the imminent famine in the Southern regions—Ona included. But then again, trying to rush this could cause its own problems. “What kinduv glitches are we talking?”
Dara purses her lips. “It’s difficult to say and would vary depending on the coding. For something less consequential, patchy sand screens, for example. For something more important … “ She lifts a shoulder. “Partial healing jobs at best for the medical nanites—worsening damage at worst. Or crop assistance nanites that malfunction and kill the crops or leave them diseased. Or rotten or poisonous flash-grown food.”
I grimace. “And the time difference between the two options?”
“If all goes well, we could have the first wave of revived nanites working by the start of the next term. If we have to start from the beginning, I don’t imagine we’ll have anything ready for public consumption before the end of the cycle. At best, maybe we’ll have something ready by … Hana? Djelo?”
I scratch the back of my head and glance at Deimos. Hana and Djelo are half a cycle away. I’m not sure we can wait that long, but then again, the possible glitches sound … not great.
“Would it be possible to test revived nanites here first before attempting to distribute anything?” Deimos asks.
“Absolutely,” Dara says. “It’ll delay the process some but I’d certainly recommend that.”
“Okay,” I say. “Can we split the team? Half the team works on reviving the crop assistance and medical nanites, and we’ll see how that goes in the lab, while the rest works on getting new nanites up and running. I get it’ll probably take longer that way, but at least if one process fails, we’ll have a backup.”
Dara nods. “My team isn’t the only one working on it, so that’s definitely possible. I’ll speak to the other team leaders and we’ll split up and do that immediately.”
“Thank you.”
Dara bows and turns to address her team whil
e Deimos, Mal, our bodyguards, and I slip through the projected partition and back into the main room. My chest aches with the weight of the decision I’ve made and the possible consequences—but I’ve made a decision.
I’m actually doing this.
Deimos’s fingers graze my lower back, sending a wave of tingling heat up my spine. “You did great,” he says with a smile. “I’m proud of you.”
I smile back. It feels good being here—surrounded by people treating me as their leader, and I couldn’t have anyone better at my side, helping me through it.
Maybe I can actually do this.
“Shae,” Mal yawns. “You did great, congratulations. Now do you think you could use those impressive Sira powers to get us something to eat? I’m starving.”
9
Eros
Immune boosters, it turns out, aren’t like the prickly gel-patch things they’ve slapped on me before. Instead they’re little, fist-length metal canisters with awkward mouthpieces sticking out of them and Sepharon writing on them I can’t read.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I turn the canister over in my fingers.
“You breathe it in,” Zarana says. “Put the entire mouthpiece is your mouth, bite down on it, close your lips around it, then breathe in through the mouthpiece until it clicks and the medicine stops releasing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s easy.” Deimos grabs one, puts it in his mouth, and demonstrates. He only breathes in for less than half a mo before the canister clicks and he pulls it out of his mouth. “See? Done.”
The mouthpiece feels awkward behind my lips but I do as instructed, and yeah, it’s easy, but it also makes the room smell like soap and my mouth taste like … something bitter and gross.
“That’s disgusting.” Mal wrinkles his nose.
I grimace and Deimos laughs. “Shae, it doesn’t taste the best.”
“But now you’re all hopefully protected,” Zarana says. “Or at the very least you’re less likely to fall ill.”
“These are getting distributed throughout Asheron, right?” I ask.
Zarana nods. “We’re working with the guard to get it done. The apprentices will all be spending the set in the city with guards to make sure everyone gets inoculated, and they’ll also be distributing face masks to anyone who hasn’t already received one.” She picks up a canister and points to the mouthpiece. “These are also designed to work with the face masks—it clips in and releases the medicine into the mask, so no one will have to take off their mask and risk contamination in the city.”
I nod. “Good. And the quarantines?”
“Established in all eight of Asheron’s hospitals, in addition to the twenty centers we’ve set up throughout the city. So far people seem to be reporting quickly. They trust us to do our best to help them.”
I nod. “Have we been able to help them?”
“Well, the masks have helped and the immune boosters will as well.”
“Naï, I mean …” I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Has anyone been able to survive this yet?”
“Ah.” Zarana grimaces. “Well, we have about twenty fatalities, but we have a pretty sizable group who’ve been sick for over thirty-six hours and haven’t succumbed to the disease yet. It seems some are more equipped to fight it than others. We’re doing the best we can to give them all the best conditions possible to fight this while the research team continues to try to develop a cure.”
I nod and Deimos touches my shoulder. “You should record a message to send out to the capital citizens. They’re hearing updates from the feeds, of course, but it’d help them to see you’re invested and paying attention to what’s happening and you care and are involved.”
I frown. “A message saying what?”
“You could talk about the importance of voluntary quarantine,” Zarana says. “Reminding everyone how essential it is to keep each other healthy and report people acting strangely or who you suspect might be ill to the hospitals to get them help. We’re also setting up decontamination centers throughout the city today and tomorrow, so you could encourage them to use those when they’ve been out of their homes for extended periods of time, or if they suspect they’ve been exposed to someone ill.”
“A lot of it is common sense,” Deimos says. “But the point is to make it clear you’re not ignoring what’s happening and you care about making things better for them.”
This still terrifies me—the whole talk and the world will listen thing. Going from permanently ignored to permanently watched isn’t something that’s just gonna feel fine overnight, I know that. But every step like this still turns my insides to goo.
Still. This is my life now. “All right.” I take a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”
We record in a random hallway, which Deimos suggests because recording from the throne room might serve as a less than positive reminder that I’m safely tucked away in the palace while everyone else is stuck at the outbreak site. I do my thing, covering all the points Zarana and Deimos suggested, while Mal sits across the hallway looking bored as fuck and Deimos watches me with a gaze that makes the air dance on my skin.
I’m like two mos away from blushing when the recording ends and Deimos smiles at me.
“And that,” he says as the guide flies away, “was the undeniable first address of a Sira. Well done, Eros.” He slips his arm around my shoulders and my heart thrums in my chest as he brings his lips so close to my ear his breath warms my skin. “I knew you’d be a great Sira.”
10
Kora
On the sixth set since Eros’s coronation, Uljen and I stand in the center of Vejla, handing out immune boosters to the endless swell of people crowding as close as the guards will allow them to to grab their own preventative. And see us, too, I suppose.
It was Uljen’s idea for us to help hand them out in person—something I never would have considered without his suggestion. But it’s a good idea; it shows the people we don’t consider ourselves too removed from them to be directly involved. It says we care and shows Eljans I’m keeping my promise of trying to do things differently than my first attempt at ruling.
And I think it’s working. Even though these circumstances are far from ideal, the people approach us with smiles and leave with thankful bows and nods.
It’s a relief to be out here without people screaming for my head.
Vejla’s center isn’t what it used to be—though the buildings here are tall and covered in detailed engravings and mosaics, layered with history, they’re also some of the oldest buildings in Vejla and the age shows. I hadn’t prioritized the maintenance of the city as I should have, and though I attempted to change that shortly before the disaster of my lifecycle celebration, the city will need a serious infrastructure project to really bring it back to what it was. And though that may not be a top priority right now—not while our crops our dying and I have to focus on keeping my people fed and healthy—it is something I want to get done. Even if just for morale.
This is Vejla, and I won’t let it crumble.
“Thank you, el Avra,” a woman says with a smile and a bow as I hand her a booster. I smile back and reach into the tub of boosters—my fingers glance against Uljen’s and a spark shoots into my elbow. I gasp and yank my hand back, my face warming as Uljen grins.
“Don’t worry, el Avra,” Uljen says. “I don’t bite unless you want me to.”
My lips part and my face is baking in the suns and he just … he really just said that. To me.
Uljen laughs. “I apologize, that was forward. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
I snap my mouth closed, grab a booster, and mutter, “I’m not uncomfortable,” even as the imagine of him nipping my shoulder sets my face on fire.
“Naï? Are you sure?” he teases.
I ignore him and smile at the next people who approach—two teen girls around my age, holding hands. As I hand them boosters, the taller of the two bounces on her toes. “Can I ju
st say—I’m so glad you’re back. It’s amazing seeing someone like us ruling.”
Their words aren’t ones I ever expected to hear, but I’d certainly hoped and dreamed and prayed I would, especially when I was young. And hearing them now, after everything—it’s a cool drink under the inferno of the twin suns. And it spreads a smile so wide across my face my cheeks hurt.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say. “I hope I’ll make you both proud.”
“I’m sure you will,” the shorter girl says. Both bow and they quickly leave, boosters in hand.
The line of people waiting for their boosters snakes side to side across the main street and far beyond what I can see, even with more than thirty of us handing out boosters together. It’s going to be a long set, but this—this is what I became Avra for. To help my people. To earn their respect and loyalty.
To become better than I was.
11
Eros
It’s been a long four sets—and an even longer six sets since my coronation. Quarantines, boosters, masks, people sick and dying, the complex shut down to everyone who isn’t essential to keep the capitol running, multiple decontaminations a set, and the ever-present terrifying question of what will happen if one of us gets sick …
I don’t want to even consider the possibility of Mal or Deimos ill. I need them healthy and happy like I need food, like I need water, like I need air. I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t.
I won’t survive it again.
But so far, at least, everyone seems fine. Or at least, everyone seems healthy—and Mal’s started getting lessons on using a walking stick, which he carries around everywhere now. Though he’s also made a point of telling me he’s in grave danger of dying of boredom, but you know. I’ll take that over risking him getting sick any mo.
Even better, Tol says they have a team almost done putting together the communication network. They think they’ll have it ready to unveil to the public after we get back from the wedding.
Which means, just for now at least, on a hovercraft on the way to Daïvi, I can relax. Or try to, anyway.
