The Towering Sky

by Katharine McGee

  She wondered how Hiral was doing right now. Maybe his floating city was big enough to be visible from this high up.

  “Look.” Cord nudged her gaze toward the window, where golden flames licked above the horizon.

  Rylin gasped. They were flying directly into the sunrise.

  Banners of fire spun out into the darkness. It was dazzling, blinding; Rylin wanted to tear her eyes away but she couldn’t, because there it was, the sun, the closest star within reach. Her whole being felt flooded with a rush of glorious lightness. To see the face of the sun, she realized, was a lot like falling in love.

  “You know,” Cord said with a mischievous smile, “the natural state of low orbit is actually zero-g. The gravity in this thing is optional.”

  “Is it?” Rylin felt a delicious shiver trail down her spine. She could guess where this was going. “I’ve never kissed anyone in zero-g.”

  “Neither have I, but there’s a first time for everything.” Cord reached for the touch panel on the wall and tapped the gravity controls to off.

  Rylin didn’t realize how tightly she’d been clenching the armrest until the gravity had melted away, and she was drifting upward. She quickly let go. How ridiculous of her to be nervous; this wasn’t exactly her first time with Cord. But she couldn’t help the way she felt.

  She floated upward, her hair waving and floating about her in a dark cloud, as if lifted by her heartbeats. Cord had maneuvered himself to her side; he stretched out his hand, reaching for her, and when her fingers laced with his he pulled her to his chest.

  They were fumbling and awkward at first, getting used to the lack of gravity. When she lifted Cord’s shirt over his head and tried to toss it aside, it didn’t stay put the way it would have normally, but kept hovering alongside them like a troublesome gnat. Rylin swatted at it. Suddenly she was laughing, and Cord was laughing too; and she knew with an unshakable certainty that this was right.

  And then they were no longer giggling, because their mouths were pressed together, all the awkwardness between them dissolved. Rylin wondered why she had ever doubted them. How could she when her skin was on fire, when Cord’s skin was her skin and they were tangled like this, hot and slow and elemental all at once?

  Their ship kept on orbiting farther into the sunrise, the dawn bathing their bodies in a warm golden glow.

  LEDA

  LEDA COULDN’T STOP thinking about Watt.

  It was the strangest thing, but her anger toward him was deflating. It felt like an artifact left over from long ago; like something that belonged to a harder, more bitter Leda, the Leda who was still feuding with her parents. Who had never visited Eris’s grave.

  Leda no longer believed that Watt was some kind of human trigger for the darkest side of her. Not anymore. Maybe because she had confronted her darkness—had looked it squarely in the face and wrestled it away—and now there was nothing left for her to fear.

  She wanted to talk to Watt, to tell him that she had confronted her dad about his affair with Eris’s mom. That her family was reforging itself into something new and whole again. That if there was hope for her family, then maybe there was hope for Leda too.

  She wanted to recount it all to Watt, to share her victories and her defeats with him—because unless he knew about them, none of it felt quite real.

  At some point Leda had come to rely on Watt, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again.

  And so Friday night, the day before the inauguration ball, Leda decided to ping him. But Watt didn’t pick up. He didn’t answer her flickers either.

  When Leda rang the doorbell to his apartment, Watt’s mom answered. She blinked, unable to mask her surprise. “Hi, Leda. I’m afraid that Watzahn isn’t here.”

  Leda stuffed her hands into her pockets, surprised that Watt’s mom remembered her. She felt suddenly nervous. “Do you know where he is?”

  “I’m not sure,” Shirin admitted. “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

  As she turned away, Leda remembered something Watt had told her once—that when he felt truly upset, there was one place he liked to go, to be alone. She logged on to her contacts to find the address and let their embedded computer calculate the fastest route. Then Leda set off, following the directions overlaid onto her vision.

  The Game Preserve was an eclectic spot a few floors upTower. It was set up like an old-timey arcade, with a bright tile floor and neon tube lights snaking along the ceiling. Nostalgic rock music blasted through the speakers. The entire space was crowded with a haphazard collection of old vid-game consoles, shooter games and space-invader games and even the kind where metallic claws grabbed at stuffed-animal prizes. Along the far wall were the more expensive holo-suites: the small rooms you could rent out, complete with headsets and haptic gloves, for one-on-one virtual reality. Leda saw a few gray-haired men sitting over coffees, playing 3-D chess on a touch-board.

  She swerved down one aisle and then the next, knowing precisely what she was looking for. When she found it, she smiled in involuntary relief.

  Watt was ensconced in a plastifoam gaming console shaped like an old wooden pirate ship, complete with the signature skull-and-crossbones insignia. He leaned over the ship’s studded wheel, furiously tapping a serious of commands, as the holo-screen before him depicted a row of enemy cannons. Leda was amused to see that Watt’s avatar was a woman with long red hair, in a very historically inaccurate dress and high boots.

  “Playing as the pirate queen, I see,” she remarked, sliding onto the seat next to him.

  Watt dropped the controls in shock. “Grace O’Malley has the best weapons,” he croaked after a moment. “It’s all about strategy.”

  He stared at her curiously, almost warily. The lights of the game played over his face, making it seem as though he were underwater. “How did you know I was here?”

  “You told me last year that Armada was your favorite game,” Leda reminded him.

  Watt didn’t look so good. He was wearing ratty jeans and an old sweatshirt, but it was more than that. There was something dispirited about him, as if he were a muted, crushed version of himself.

  “Watt,” she started to say, but he was talking at the same time, his words falling clumsily over hers.

  “I owe you an apology. I should never have accused you of— I just—”

  “Let’s not talk about it,” Leda pleaded. Her chest throbbed with confused emotion, and she scooted closer to Watt. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. And I’m finally starting to . . .” Make things right was what she wanted to say, but it didn’t quite fit. “Move past it.”

  “I’m glad, Leda.”

  Watt reached tentatively for her hand, and Leda laced her fingers in his. The holographic waves crashed over them, almost soothing in their repetitions.

  “I lost MIT,” Watt said after a moment.

  Leda’s head darted up. “You lost MIT?” No wonder he seemed so defeated.

  Watt’s jaw hardened, his gaze clouding over. “I botched the interview. They asked me to leave.”

  “Oh, Watt. I’m so sorry.” Leda knew the words were inadequate; but what could you say to someone who’d just lost their lifelong dream?

  “It was my mistake. I tried too hard to be something that I’m not.” Watt sighed. “On top of losing you, it felt like more than I could handle—that I had somehow screwed up everything in my life through my own foolishness.”

  “Watt, you haven’t lost me,” Leda assured him. “I just needed some time. I’m scared of myself . . . of what I might have done. But I don’t want to push you away.”

  She looked over at him. The blood rushed to the thin skin over the bones of her chest; she felt her heartbeat echoing in the space within her ribs. There were no secrets between them, she realized, dazed. Nothing between her and Watt except for space.

  Then his arms were around her, and she was pressing her mouth to his, certain that she would never get enough of him.

  They fell back against the holo
-console and it erupted into a dozen displays at once, like fireworks. Watt broke away. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but Leda just laughed. She didn’t care.

  She realized that all she wanted was to be alone with Watt, away from everything. Somewhere they could shut away the world, if only for a little while. “Do you want to get out of here?” Leda twisted at a coil of her hair, suddenly nervous. “My parents are away. I mean, if you want to.”

  “Yeah. Of course,” Watt stammered, as if half afraid she might change her mind.

  “Okay.” Leda reached for his hand again and gave it a squeeze. There was that impish smile she loved, curling up at the corners of his mouth.

  When they were back upTower, through the front door of her family’s place and up the stairs to her room, Leda pulled the door shut behind her.

  To think that at this time last year, Watt had been nothing to her but the person who filled her hacking requests. Now he was her co-conspirator, her partner in crime, the boy she loved. Watt had slipped into her life and under her skin, and Leda was so very glad of it, even though she knew it was what he’d intended all along.

  Well, if she was going to do this, she’d damned well better dive in headfirst.

  WATT

  WATT HADN’T BEEN in Leda’s bedroom for almost a year.

  It was different, he thought—hollower, with new blank spaces on the walls and shelves. Leda had meant it when she said she had tried to sweep away all the detritus of her former life.

  But she was still Leda, still the girl he loved, standing before him—slight and trembling, yet not fragile at all. Watt knew the implacability of her strength, like a blade that was whip-thin but sharp.

  “Leda,” Watt said softly. “We don’t have to, um . . .”

  In answer, Leda grabbed Watt’s shirt to pull him closer, and kissed him.

  They fell backward onto her bed in a feverish tangle. Leda fumbled with the hooks and fastenings of Watt’s jacket, tossing it aside. He reached behind her to pull the zipper of her dress. “Here, let me,” Leda said impatiently, tearing herself away from him just long enough to shimmy out of it. It fell onto the floor with a hiss.

  Then she was facing him in nothing but her wispy bra and underwear. Watt felt his heartbeat echoing in the space between them.

  He reached up tentatively to trace her smile. He adored Leda’s mouth, the eager fullness of it. He adored everything about her: the arch of her neck, the softness of her arms, the way she fit so perfectly tucked into his chest. Everywhere they touched seemed to explode in a white-hot friction.

  Watt regretted every moment of the last year he hadn’t spent with her. He regretted every kiss that he had ever given to anyone who wasn’t Leda, because he knew now how much a kiss could mean.

  He loved Leda—for her wildness and her inner fire and her fierce, stubborn pride. He loved that she was more ruthlessly alive than anyone he had ever met. He wanted so desperately to tell her that he loved her, but he didn’t dare, because he was terrified it might send her running. Instead he kept kissing her, again and again and again, trying to pour his love into the kisses.

  He hoped, desperately, that she loved him too.

  Early the next morning, Watt leaned on one elbow, glancing down at Leda with unadulterated wonder.

  She shifted on the pillow, which was warm and slightly perfumed from where she’d slept. The dim light gleamed on her earrings, which Watt realized were shaped like a pair of tiny crescent moons. He wondered if they had some meaning: if Leda had bought them on a trip, maybe, or if they’d been a gift. He felt hungry for every last detail about anything that mattered to Leda.

  He fought back the urge to reach out and touch her, to check that she really was here. That last night wasn’t just a dream.

  Watt realized with a start that she was awake, her eyes fluttering open to shine in the darkness like a cat’s.

  “Watt,” she breathed, and he leaned in to kiss her.

  “I hate to say this, but I should get back.”

  “I didn’t think you were the type to run off,” she murmured, teasing.

  “Trust me, the last thing I want is to leave. I just don’t want to be the guy who gets you in trouble with your parents.”

  “You’re right.” Leda let out a breath and sat up, letting the sheets spill forward off her shoulders. “Watt?”

  He paused at the door to look back at her. “Yeah?”

  “Will you go to the inauguration ball with me tonight?” She gave a hesitant smile. “I know we’ve had a few ups and downs at formal events, but I thought this time . . .”

  Watt grinned, pretending to deliberate. “I’m not so sure. I mean, last time you only invited me because you wanted access to Nadia.”

  Leda rolled her eyes. “You know that’s not how it—”

  “But I can’t say no to you, Leda,” Watt finished. “Of course I’ll be there.”

  The whole way home, he kept Nadia off. She had powered herself down while he was with Leda, the way she always did when Watt was with a girl, and for some reason he wasn’t ready to break the silence.

  Which was why he didn’t get any warning that there were police officers at his apartment.

  “As I told you, my son is out at a friend’s house.” Watt’s mom had planted herself sturdily in the doorway, her voice lifted in outrage. Before her stood a pair of police officers: a squat man with a moustache and a bright-eyed woman who couldn’t be much older than Watt.

  Quant on, Watt thought furiously, watching as Nadia ran facial-reg on them. She quickly put name-identification boxes below their faces: Harold Campbell and Lindsay Kiles.

  “It looks like he’s back now,” Officer Kiles said flatly as Watt approached the door. She lifted an eyebrow, as if to question why he was showing up so very early on a Saturday morning, looking distinctly rumpled and stale.

  Officer Campbell butted in. “Mr. Bakradi, we were hoping you would come answer a few questions for us.”

  “Absolutely not,” Watt’s mom insisted. Her hands were planted on her hips, her jaw set in a grim line.

  Watt felt bewildered, and a little afraid. Nadia, what’s going on? I thought the police didn’t have any concrete evidence. All they knew was that Mariel had been stalking them, which didn’t prove anything.

  Nadia seemed as nervous as he was. I’m trying to see what this is about, but as I’ve said before, I can’t hack the police’s system without being on-site.

  Watt wondered if Rylin and Avery would be questioned too, or if this was just about him—about his hacking. Or worse, about Nadia.

  “It’s okay. I’m happy to come, if I can be of any help,” Watt said as politely as he could, ignoring the angry protests of his mom. He ran a hand through his unruly hair before following the officers back toward the main thoroughfare.

  He felt a stab of dismay at the sight of the blue police hover pulled up at the corner. For some reason he’d expected that they would take public transit. It didn’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence, being forced to ride in the back of that hover, where the doors didn’t open from the inside. It felt as if things had gone in fast-forward, that he had already been tried and found guilty.

  Watt lifted his hand to the bump where Nadia was located, to reassure himself that she was still there—a risky gesture, but he tried to make it look as if he were scratching his head. At least he would have Nadia with him during the questioning, he thought, with a fevered gratefulness.

  But the moment he followed the detectives into the station’s interrogation room, Nadia set off an alarm bell in Watt’s mind. There’s an infrared sensor in here to detect active tech.

  That’s for tablets and contacts! It’s okay, my brain is supposed to show up hot, Watt assured her, because the thought of doing this interrogation without Nadia made him want to throw up.

  Not safe. I’m going cold, she told him, and with that she shut herself off.

  Shit. Watt would actually have to go through with this alone.

  He took t
he metal folding chair across the table from the detectives. Should he sit up straight or slouch? Maybe lean an elbow on the table? He needed to strike the right balance between nervousness and confidence; because wouldn’t an innocent guy be somewhat blasé about all this, knowing he had done nothing wrong? Or would an innocent person be quaking with fear?

  Why couldn’t he make even a decision about his posture without Nadia’s input?

  Officer Campbell spoke first. “Mr. Bakradi. Did you know a girl named Mariel Valconsuelo?”

  “I don’t know who that is,” Watt replied, perhaps a bit too emphatically. If there were infrared sensors in here, were there also lie detectors? But the detectives couldn’t run a real lie analysis without putting biosensors on him, could they?

  Campbell nodded at his colleague, who tapped a screen, causing a hologram of Mariel to flare to life before them. She looked angry and uncompromising, her head tilted upward, as if it was a terrible imposition that she was being asked to take an ID picture.

  “Mariel was dating Eris Dodd-Radson before Eris died,” Officer Campbell said significantly. Watt didn’t answer.

  The officer lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t ever meet Mariel?” she asked again.

  “Not that I can recall.”

  “Before she died, Mariel was gathering information about you.”

  Watt tried his best to act shocked by that revelation. Officer Campbell leaned farther forward onto the table, as if determined to occupy more space. “You don’t have any idea why?”

  “Maybe she had a crush on me?” The moment he saw the officers’ faces, Watt knew that irreverence hadn’t been the right way to go.

  “I can assure you that she did not,” Kiles cut in drily. Watt bit the inside of his cheek. Nadia would have kept him from saying that.

  The officer waved, and the hologram grew watery and dissolved like rapidly melting snow. “How do you know Avery Fuller?” she went on, abruptly changing tack.

  “Avery is a friend,” Watt said warily.

  “Just a friend?”