by Makansi, K.
“You should know,” I shot back. “You were the chancellor’s son once, too.” Not my finest moment.
I close my eyes and try to forget about Soren. As exhausted as I am, I’m unable to settle into any semblance of sleep. The room, clammy and cold, makes me wonder if this is what it was like living all those years in the tunnels of Thermopylae. For the thousandth time, I long for the comforts of my flat in Okaria.
While I’m longing, I can’t help but summon an image of Remy’s soft-as-silk mahogany skin. I imagine her wild fluff of curly brown hair on the pillow, those thick lashes resting against her cheekbones, her breathing soft and slow as the full length of her curls into me. My heart begins to thud in my chest, and I—stop it! Get a grip, Vale. Take a deep breath. Think of something else.
But it’s no use. I can’t shake the image swimming before my eyes, her bright smile as she looks up at me. I’ve caught her looking at me enough times to think something’s changed since we all shared that tiny cabin together outside of the old city. Maybe I should try to talk to her. The idea sprouts in my head like a sapling. The whole time I’ve been at Normandy, I haven’t once had a chance to talk to her alone. Not that I’d know what to say, but I’d at least like the chance to say something.
If only….
In a fit of frustration, I throw the sheet off my body and roll out of the hammock. I slip on my pants and pull a shirt over my head while stepping around Miah’s hammock, avoiding his huge feet hanging off the end. I've been keeping my distance, giving Remy plenty of room to avoid me if she wanted, but now the idea of talking to her has taken root, and I can’t shake it.
The hall is dark, lit only by a trail of faint yellow safety lights running along the floor. I find myself following the lights to the room where the rest of the team is sleeping. Softly, I turn the handle and push open the door. I peek through the crack, hoping desperately Soren isn’t awake. When no one leaps at me from the shadows, I push the door open a little wider to let in more light. Jahnu and Kenzie have made a pallet of blankets on the floor and are sound asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. They have no idea how lucky they are. Well, maybe, after all we’ve been through, they do know.
I wait while my eyes adjust, then edge the door open a bit more and see Soren’s blond hair. He’s on his back, his arm covering his eyes. Next to him is an empty cot and beyond that two more empty ones. Jahnu and Kenzie’s. And the darker blur in the corner, against the far wall, must be Bear. He’s not formally on the mission team, but he refuses to be separated from Soren and Remy.
But there’s no trace of Remy.
Okay. I know she has trouble sleeping, that she and Gabriel often sit together in the middle of the night while he writes and she draws. I head to the mess, knowing he spends time writing there after everyone else has gone to sleep. Maybe Remy’s with him now.
Will I finally get to talk to her? My pace quickens. The night has gripped me with steely determination. Suddenly it feels like this cannot possibly wait until morning. I make my way through the dark corridors, but when I finally get to the mess hall, it’s empty as a tomb.
Shit. My energy and enthusiasm deflates. A new fatigue washes over me, and I’m briefly confronted by the urge to go back to bed. But I remind myself that she’s not in bed, that she’s up and about, so now is the perfect time to find her alone. Maybe she’s in the lounge. It’s not much, but Normandy’s lounge does have a few lumpy old couches and chairs, a surprisingly thick, woven rug, and a few decent reading lights. I snake my way down another dimly lit tunnel. There’s a light on and a figure stretched out on one of the couches. With a blanket draped over her legs, I can only tell it’s not a man. My heart skips a beat as I get closer. I step into the room and the figure lowers her book, an actual, old fashioned, printed-on-paper book.
“Hey,” she says. Zoe.
“Can’t sleep either?” I ask, my pulse a drumbeat of disappointment.
“Nah. I’m a night owl, ya know? Gotta finish my book.”
“Hope it’s a good one.”
She turns it over and looks at the cover. “A Tale of Two Cities. You ever read Dickens?”
“Yeah,” I say, surprised.
“If you’re interested, you should take a look at Adrienne’s library. She’s got a huge stash of old books in the room off the back of her office.”
Another surprise. “I didn’t know. Thanks. By the way, do you know who’s working the comm center?”
“Not me,” she says with a soft laugh. “That’s all I care about.”
“Okay.” I step out of the room, but then turn back to Zoe. “Thanks for the library tip.”
Someone's always on duty in the comm center. When I lean around the doorframe, squinting into the room against the sudden light, I see that the woman on duty is asleep, her feet propped up on the desk, her head softly lolling back against the chair with her headphones askew. No sign of Remy. What would she be doing in here anyway?
Where is she?
I continue down the tunnel to where it opens into the wide underground cavern, where we’ve being doing a lot of our strength training. Nothing. It’s dark as pitch. No one answers when I call out. I try Adrienne’s little storeroom. If she’s got a library, maybe Remy’s in there. But the lights are out and there’s no sound, no movement. By the time I’ve checked the storage closet where she spends so much time with Bear and where she keeps her paper and ink, the smaller meeting rooms, the supply center, the showers, the bathrooms, and the kitchen and mess hall for a second time—just in case I missed her the first time—I’ve broken out in a full-blown sweat. Calm down, Vale. I probably just missed her earlier. She was most likely in the bathroom when I stopped by her room. I’m sure she’s back in bed now.
I stand in front of the door, my heart now ricocheting against my ribs. The door is exactly where I left it. I peek in anyway, but her cot is still empty.
There’s only one more place to look. Maybe she’s in the bunkroom with her dad. I pad as quickly as possible to the room where Gabriel and Rhinehouse sleep. The door is already slightly ajar, so I push it a bit wider and peer in. Two cots. Two men. No Remy.
I lean against the wall and take a deep breath, processing. Slow down. There’s nowhere else on base to check—all the other tunnels have been sealed and are totally inaccessible. The hovercars and Normandy’s one serviceable airship are all kept well camouflaged above ground; there’s no hangar down here. Where could she have gone?Surely she didn’t leave! The thought of her out in the Wilds by herself at night leaves me gasping for air, as if Aulion followed a punch to the gut with a hard right to the chin.
I plow through the tunnels, back toward the main hatch. Panting, hands shaking, I check the keypad to code the doors open and shut, and sure enough, the computer indicates the last time the door was opened to the outside world was one hour and forty-seven minutes ago. Long after lights out on base, long after everyone was supposed to be safely ensconced in bed.
She’s gone.
Blind with panic and worry, I fall back on procedure like a good soldier. “We have codes for three levels of emergency,” Adrienne said during our orientation, “and depending on the severity of the event, you’ll enter the correct alarm code at any one of the key pads located around the base.” We’re not under attack and we’re not about to flood the tunnels and drown from a break in our main water tank, both scenarios Adrienne had described in detail during our security briefing. I punch in the alarm code for a Level Three Security Event and immediately the lights in the tunnel blink on and a recorded voice blares out into the empty hallway, reverberating against the cold concrete walls: “Key Pad One Engaged. Initiate Level Three Emergency Procedures.”
I tear back towards the dormitories, knowing everyone will be pouring into the hallway, sleepy and confused, wondering what the hell is going on.
Sure enough, the first person I run into—almost literally—is Soren.
“What the fuck’s going on?” he snarls. His Bolt, slung acro
ss his bare chest, is pointed straight at me.
“Remy’s gone,” I blurt. “She’s not on base. I’ve looked everywhere.” He stares at me for a second, and then his eyes narrow and the look on his face transforms from angry and bleary-eyed to vicious and deadly focused. He whips his Bolt around his back, grabs me by my shirt and slams me up against the wall. His spare hand finds its way to my throat.
“What did you do to her?” he demands, his voice a guttural whisper, a threat. “I swear if you—”
“What the hell do you think you’re you doing, Skaarsgard?” Soren’s head snaps to the right, and I follow, breathless. The Director, her clothes rumpled and her normally-straight hair jagged around the edges, looks ready to kill. Adrienne rushes up behind her and Hodges stands at her side. Soren lets me go and backs away.
“Remy’s gone,” he says, his face still contorted with anger. “This … Vale … he must have—”
“I was the one who entered the alarm code,” I cut in, trying to save myself from Soren’s damning words. “Remy’s disappeared from base. I was trying to find her. I don’t know where she’s gone, but she’s not here.”
Footsteps echo through the tunnels, and soon Eli and Firestone—sleepy, confused, and hung over—along with Miah, Zoe, and several members of the Normandy staff show up.
“Remy’s gone,” Soren says abruptly to Eli who stares at him, one hand in his hair, only vaguely conscious of what’s going on. Recognition finally dawns on him, though, and his eyes widen as he stares between the three of us.
“What do you mean ‘gone?’” he demands, disbelieving.
“She’s nowhere on base,” I confirm. “And the door outside to the main hatch was opened almost two hours ago.”
“Not a chance in hell.” Soren turns on me again. “No way she would leave without telling me or Eli. Or Gabriel. Where the hell would she go? You staged this whole thing. Why did you just happen to be the one to realize she’s gone? You could have killed her and played us all for the fool, Orleán,” he spits. I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of his accusation. I glance around, looking for allies. Firestone’s leaning against the wall, trying to keep his body upright and obviously wondering what he’s doing out of bed. Eli’s eyes have narrowed into slits, as though any trust I might have earned from him is now in question.
“Don't be irrational, Soren. Vale would never hurt Remy.” Miah speaks up, shouldering his way past Eli, going eye-to-eye with Soren. “Believe me. He wouldn’t hurt her.”
“It does seem suspicious, Vale,” the Director interjects, “but we don’t want to leap to conclusions.”
“How can you take his side? This doesn’t seem like an elaborate set-up to you?” Soren says to Miah. “Remy disappears and Vale’s conveniently the first one to notice? And you,” he turns to the Director, “say you don't want to ‘leap to conclusions?’ You just want to keep your precious pawn in this game, keep your fucking military advantage.” He turns back to me, his tone quiet and deadly. “Your family has destroyed everything I’ve ever cared about. If you hurt Remy, I’ll slit your throat.”
“Soren, I’m just stating the facts, whether you like them or not. Vale would never hurt Remy.” Miah makes this pronouncement slowly, as if each word is a separate and distinct declaration. How did I get lucky enough to have a friend like Jeremiah Sayyid?
“Vale didn’t do anything to Remy,” Jahnu says. He and Kenzie have materialized out of nowhere. Everyone bends toward them. “Bear’s gone, too. His cot’s empty. I heard him get up in the night, but I must have gone back to sleep and didn’t realize he never came back.”
“When the lights came on, we noticed his cot,” Kenzie said. “There’re a few blankets piled on it, but no Bear. We just searched the room, and looked for his pack, but everything he owned is gone.”
“Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time,” the Director says. “Vale, what were you doing up and about at two in the morning?”
I swallow.
“I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t talked to Remy—you know, alone—since the night after Brinn died. I wanted to—” I trail off and a hush settles over everyone as Gabriel and Rhinehouse round the corner.
Gabriel stops. “She’s gone, isn’t she?” he asks, his voice quiet. I lower my eyes. I don’t want to be the one to say it out loud, to say it to the man who’s already lost half his family: yes, your daughter is gone.
But as I drop my eyes I notice a scrap of paper in his hand. He gives it to Eli, apparently unable to read the words aloud himself. His lower lip trembles, his jaw clenching and unclenching as Eli starts.
“Dad, it’s time for your little bird to fly the coop. I’m going to continue the mission to the Farms you and Mom were on, and Bear is coming with me. It’s clear the battles to be fought here are not mine, and that there are other things in my future. I wish you could have come with me, but this is my mission now, my calling. I’ll keep a low profile and stay out of trouble. I will send word as soon as possible. I love you.
- Your Little Bird.”
Eli’s hand drops as he finishes reading, staring at the floor. A heavy pause hangs in the air.
Alongside the fear crawling up my spine is a swelling of pride at her resolve to take control of her own destiny. I’m envious. One thing Soren said is true; I am a pawn. I was a pawn in my parents’ game when they installed me in the position of head of the Seed Bank Protection Project. Now the Director is using me for her own ends.
I’m going after them, I think and when Eli looks up at me, I realize I’ve said it out loud.
And then Gabriel’s knees give way, he sinks in front of me. Eli catches the older man in his arms, hugging him as tenderly as any son would. I only now realize how fully they see each other as family. The acknowledgment that Remy is gone washes over both of them like a tide. Then Eli looks up at me.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Neither of you are authorized to leave this outpost until I give the command,” the Director snaps, but she might as well be speaking from another world.
“If you’re going, I’m damn well going, too,” Soren growls.
“None of you are going anywhere!” the Director shouts. The three of us fall silent. Gabriel straightens up, away from Eli’s protective embrace. He looks at the Director, pleading and desperate.
“Please,” he says, his voice hoarse and broken, nothing like the booming, charismatic oratory of the Poet Laureate I remember from Sector broadcasts years ago. “Cillian. Let them go. Let them bring her back. I can’t lose her, too.”
She watches him for several minutes, surveying him and Eli together. Finally she speaks.
“The three of you take one other person.” She nods at Kenzie. “You’ll lead a second team of four. Pick your team. Split up to cover more ground. Find them and bring them back.”
“What if they’ve taken a hovercar?” I ask.
The Director turns to Zoe. “Go check Camera Two.” As Zoe runs off, the Director turns to Gabriel. “If she’s taken one of the hovercars, it’s going to be a lot harder to track her down, and she’ll have had time to put a lot of distance between us. You have to be prepared for that.” Then she locks her gaze on me. “You’ve got seventy-two hours. The Flora mission can’t wait.”
Eli, Soren, and I survey each other warily. Distrust in Soren’s eyes, hesitant cooperation in Eli’s.
“Understood,” I say.
“Good.”
Moments later, I’m sitting in my hammock, lacing up my boots, wondering who Eli will have picked as our fourth team member. I hear a sound at the door and look up to see him walking in.
“Just to be clear,” he says, his voice low as he grabs his own boots, “we’re ignoring the Director’s orders and going out together. We’re not splitting up.”
“Soren agree to this?”
“Yeah. And we’re taking the airship.”
“But the Director hasn’t given us—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what the Dir
ector says,” Eli growls, and I am vividly reminded of what Eli’s problem with authority was like even before Tai died and he went a little crazy.
“Oh,” Eli says, glancing at me as though his outburst had never happened. “And Miah and Firestone are tag teaming as pilots. I want my—our—whole team together on this. Remy’s too important to us—to all of us.” He looks at me pointedly as he emphasizes the word.
I stand, pulling on my jacket. I stare down at him, both admiring and critical of his protectiveness towards his surrogate sister.
“Have you thought about the fact that maybe she left to get away from everyone telling her what to do? ” I pause, trying to let my words sink in. “That she might not want any of us to come after her?”
“I have thought about that,” Eli responds, not looking up from his boots. “But guess what? Sometimes we don’t get what we want.”
11 - REMY
Spring 4, Sector Annum 106, 07h51
Gregorian Calendar: March 23
The skyline of another old city emerges in the creeping sunlight. The map says this one is Syracuse, a town once known for its ROR industry: robotic organism replication. Bacteria, viruses, parasites, parasitoids—Syracuse built an industry around churning out these artificial microorganisms for medicinal and technological purposes. It’s a technology that’s been mostly lost to us, and robotic organisms represent a level of complexity OAC scientists haven’t been able to replicate.
As I drive, I take in the contour lines, shadows, and negative space fading into points against the horizon. Morning sun dapples early spring growth in a light shimmer. The chaos of reclaimed nature against the ruins of human structures. Every time I come into a new landscape, my hand itches to draw it.
“Are we there yet?” Bear yawns next to me, not a little bit of whining in his voice. I laugh.
“Are you trying to sound like a child?”
“Hey, I’m tired. You were the one who dragged me out of bed at that forsaken hour of the morning.”
