by Elin Peer
Tristan plunked down in my chair, lifting one leg to rest his ankle on the opposite knee. “It’s not a priority for me either.” With a casual movement he reached up to intertwine his fingers and somehow made them seem like a comfortable pillow behind his head. Giving me a charming smile, he added, “I was just fortunate enough to be born with both brains and good looks. Sorry that you weren’t that lucky.”
Others might find Tristan’s humor mean, but my six months in the Northlands as a teenager had taught me about irony and sarcasm. It wasn’t used much in the Motherlands, but I’d become fond of it. The Nmen didn’t get offended when I said something harsh. Most times they thought I was being ironic and laughed it off.
Motlanders, however, found me too direct and insensitive.
“Thank you for your sympathy, but it’s okay. We all bear our crosses. For instance, I see you still suffer from bad eyesight and a bit of narcissism.” I gave him a sweet smile.
Tristan leaned his head back and laughed. “God, I missed you and your sharp tongue, Shelly.”
“I missed you too.” It was true. Tristan and I had first met at the experimental school on the west coast when we were both fifteen, and for years we’d been out of touch. It wasn’t until a year ago, when Advanced Technologies had hired him to lead the department for aerodynamics, that we’d reconnected.
“Why are you here, Tristan?”
“I’m here to take you out.”
“Out where?”
“You’ll see. Just close down the systems and don’t ask questions. It’ll be fun.”
I gave him a skeptical look. “Fun?”
“Yeah, tons of fun.”
“Coming from you that word makes me nervous. Last time you said that, you took me to a fight club. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“You were the one who said that you’re curious to see more of the Northlands, yet you hide away in here.”
“Will there be people brawling and fighting?”
“Nooo, don’t worry, Shelly.”
I inhaled deeply and gave him my sternest look. “Tristan, I’m not going with you unless you tell me where you’re taking me.”
His hands came down and he moved to the edge of the seat. “Fine! One of the drones I designed is competing tonight. I want to be there when it wins.”
My forehead wrinkled. “Then you go. Drone races are too overwhelming for me. The noise and all those people.”
“I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
“It’s not my safety that concerns me. I’m just not good with crowds of people.”
Using his chin to point to my workstation, he ordered, “No more excuses. Shut it down. You’re coming with me. Charlie’s orders.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Charlie sent you?”
“Yeah, he mentioned that you work too much and that he worries about you. I didn’t even know you were in the Northlands until he told me.”
“I see.”
“Hey, don’t give me that look. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to spend time with you. And really, I’m the one who should be offended that you didn’t tell me you were here to begin with.”
I cleaned up my workspace. “Sorry, I meant to. I’ve just been busy.”
“You’re forgiven, but only if you come with me to the drone race.”
With a sigh of resignation, I looked at him. “It’s just going to be you and me, right?”
“That’s the plan. Unless you have some cute girlfriends you want to invite.”
My raised eyebrows said it all.
“No, that’s what I thought.” He laughed. “So just me and you then. With me there you won’t even have to bring that protector along that Charlie hired for you.”
“Thank god. To be honest, I don’t like him much.”
“Why? Is he coming on to you?”
“No, he’s just very talkative and sometimes it’s too much. I’ve tried giving him the cold shoulder, but you know how Nmen are – they don’t get offended by Motlander rudeness.”
Tristan laughed and came up with all sorts of ideas on how to offend an Nman.
An hour later we were sitting high up on bleachers overlooking a large area where drones were lining up to race.
“Sorry about the food. This place doesn’t have many vegetarian options.” Tristan held out his box to me. “The chicken sticks are good and spicy though, wanna try?”
“Tell me again, when did you begin eating meat?” I asked and took a bite of the large breadstick that had been my only choice of food.
“When I was enrolled in school here. They didn’t always have vegan options so it was either starve or eat meat.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Tristan swallowed a bite. “I don’t eat a lot of meat, but I’ve learned to enjoy it when I do.”
“How is your family doing?” I asked, knowing that Tristan had an enormous family since he grew up in a family unit in the Motherlands with his biological mom, and also had a family on his father’s side.
“Do you mean my dad and Athena?”
“Yeah, how are they?”
Tristan smiled and looked at the action in front of us. Eight drones were hovering above the ground in the starting area, while the last two were slowly lifting up to get in position. “Sometimes, I envy my dad and Athena. What they have together is so rare.” He turned his head to me and looked serious when he spoke. “Did you know they hold hands in public? Like they can’t stand to not touch each other.” Tristan shook his head. “It’s weird, but at the same time, I fucking wish I could find that with someone.”
“I’ll hold your hand if you want me to,” I offered and held it up for him to take.
Tristan took me up on my offer and smiled. “Thank you, Shelly. You’re a good friend. Too bad that we don’t have that chemistry thing between us.”
“We wouldn’t have been a good couple. You’re as quirky as I am.”
Tristan laughed. “No one is as quirky as you are.”
“That bad, is it?” I wanted to release his hand, but he grabbed it more firmly.
“You’re perfect the way you are, quirky and all.”
While Tristan returned his attention to the race and watched the drones take off, I kept thinking about his words: No one is as quirky as you are.
“Fucking amateur.” The man in front of us screamed as the crowd erupted in shouts and boos after a blue drone bumped into a red one that had a black line in the shape of a lightning bolt on it.
There had to be at least two thousand people spread out on the bleachers, and more viewers would be located along the route. Drone races were popular in the Northlands.
“Did you see that?” Tristan stood up, shielding his eyes from the sun with both hands and looking in the direction of the drones. “He blew it. I told the pilot to push to the max from the beginning. I fucking built that machine to take a beating, and then he goes easy.” Grumbles of annoyance were followed by more complaints. “And why would he try to get on the right side of number eight? He could have been number one by now.”
“The pilot can still catch up, can’t he?” I asked to cheer him up.
“I doubt it.” Keeping his eyes fixed on the large screen where we could follow the race, Tristan sat down again, grabbing for another chicken stick in the box.
“Sure you don’t want one?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m sure.” While he watched the race, I looked at the men around us, catching some of them staring at me with curiosity. These past ten years thousands of women had moved to the Northlands, but men still outnumbered women by a lot, and strict laws protected women from being approached or touched by strangers without the woman’s consent. It wasn’t illegal to look, though, and many of them had no manners when it came to ogling women. I ignored their staring eyes, finding none of them the least bit attractive. Again, memories of my time with Marco flooded back and I took a deep breath to steady my beating heart.
“Hey, Shelly…”
I turned my head to meet Tristan’s eyes. “Yes?”
“Stop thinking about your work. I can hear your head spinning, and you need to relax for a few hours.”
“I wasn’t thinking about work.”
“Good, because you need some balance in your life.”
“I’m balanced,” I lied, knowing full well that a seventy- to eighty-hour work week didn’t leave room for much else. “I was just looking at the spectators, wondering what is going on with the beads.”
“Ahh.” Tristan waved his hands in a dismissive way. “It’s a fashion thing. Apparently, Magni wore a single dark blue bead in his beard, and you know how everyone wants to be like him.”
I counted at least twenty or thirty men, each with a single bead braided into his beard.
“Magni would be the last person I would expect to wear a bead. That’s something Motlander men would do.”
“Maybe he lost a bet,” Tristan guessed. “Either way, he looked pretty badass with it and now it’s high fashion.”
“Do you talk to him often?”
“Nah, sometimes. Mostly, I speak with Mila.”
Mila had been a student at the experimental school, and she’d been adopted by Magni, the second in command in the Northlands, and his wife, Laura.
“I heard she’s still kind and gentle,” I said.
“Who, Mila?”
“Yeah, who else? You didn’t think I would call Laura or Magni gentle, did you?” The two of them were stubborn Northlanders with a love for weapons and fight techniques.
He kept his eyes on the screen. “Mila is the best. She runs an animal shelter now, you know, helping sick and injured animals.”
“How old is she? Twenty?”
“Sounds about right.” Tristan said and waved over a service-bot selling ice-cold beer.
“Is it true that she’s going to have a tournament?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It’s possible. Both her parents are traditionalists and want her to marry a strong warrior.” He reached for the beer, asking me over his shoulder, “Do you want one?”
“No thank you. I don’t drink beer.”
Tristan got what he needed and the service-bot left. “It’s inevitable that she’s been influenced by Magni and Laura to think a tournament is a good idea.”
I took another small bite of the breadstick and scratched my nose. “It’s so old-fashioned. Men fighting for a bride…”
“At least the minimum age of the brides was raised to twenty-one. It used to be eighteen up until seven years ago. Mila still has time to make up her mind.”
“Tournaments are barbaric,” I exclaimed. “Mila is too good a person to be pressured into something that medieval.”
“Hey, it worked out well for Laura and Magni. They seem happy together. Maybe it’ll work out for Mila as well.” Tristan gave me a small smile and looked back at the race.
My analysis of his body language told me that he didn’t want to discuss it further, but he had triggered me and I began ranting. “Tristan, did you know that until June 2433, brides were only fifteen years old when they were dressed up and made to pick between five champions? The warriors were grown men, sometimes more than twice the age of the bride, and they held enormous power. Their child brides couldn’t work, vote, or even walk freely. To say that it might work out for Mila is both ignorant and mean. If you consider yourself a friend, you should do everything in your power to stop her from marrying a stranger.”
“But Mila isn’t going to be a child bride, is she? She’s an adult and capable of making her own choices. If she thinks a tournament is the way to find a husband, then I’m going to support her right to choose that for herself.” Tristan patted my shoulder. “Let it go, Shelly, it’s none of our business.”
But letting go of things was hard for me, and I needed the last word on the matter. “It’s just that I don’t believe in tournaments. It’s wrong.”
“Then don’t have one,” Tristan said pragmatically.
“Mila shouldn’t have one either,” I insisted.
“And maybe she won’t. It’s probably just a rumor or wishful thinking on Magni’s part.”
I leaned forward in my seat, both my elbows on my knees and my chin resting in my palms. “I hope you’re right about that.”
Two minutes later Tristan jumped up from his seat. “That’s it! Take him, take him, take him!” He raised his hand in a fist and screamed out with joy when his drone overtook a large green one on the large screen. “Son of the Devil, he’s in third place now…” Tristan’s eyes were wide open and he gave another scream of excitement when his drone overtook another competitor. Leaning forward, he pointed to the side. “They’re going to be flying through here in a second – get ready.”
I stood up too, infected with his excitement, and cheered with him when the small dots on the horizon quickly grew in size.
“Yes… come on. Push her. Push her to the max.” Tristan was up on his toes when his drone sped past us in a flash. The crowd exploded in a rush of adrenaline with the speed and closeness of the drones. Men were roaring their excitement, and when Tristan’s drone took the lead my friend celebrated with everyone around him.
“I fucking designed that drone. That’s my drone,” he told the men around us, who gave him words of admiration.
Technically, it wasn’t Tristan’s drone, but for once I understood that now wasn’t the time to point that out.
When he flung his arm around my shoulder, I looked up at him and smiled. “Looks like you built a good drone, Tristan.”
His face split in a wide grin. “Of course I did. Told you, I’ve got both looks and brains.”
CHAPTER 6
Sex-Bot on a Field Trip
Marco
Storm handed me a beer and a turkey leg. “I wish we had better seats,” he complained. “I bet Tristan could have gotten us backstage passes with his connections.”
“Did you ask him?” Hunter, who was one of Storms best friends, asked.
“Yeah, but he never got back to me. I think he’s still pissed about what happened when I married Gennie.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked and ripped off a piece of the turkey meat with my teeth.
Storm swallowed a mouthful of beer and shook his head. “I was an ass to Tristan and my other friends. Completely forgot about them and just wanted to be with Gennie.”
“Yeah, you were an ass,” Hunter agreed. “I figured you were scared that she would like us better than you.”
“It crossed my mind.” Storm leaned back in his seat, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “I mean, she sure as hell never liked me much.”
“Did you meet her?” I asked Hunter.
“Uh-huh.”
“And what did you think?”
Hunter looked away, taking a long sip of his beer.
“I take it you’re not a Gennie fan either?”
“Nope. Not a fan.”
“You’re not going to get any trash talk from Hunter,” Storm said. “But I have no problem saying that Gennie is a bitch.”
Hunter looked away.
“I know she came on to you.” Storm was looking at Hunter. “Tristan told me what happened between you and Gennie.”
Because of the bright sun, Hunter’s pupils were small when he met Storm’s eyes. It made the green color of his eyes stand out. “I didn’t touch her.” His tone was serious.
“I never said you did.”
“Are you two even watching the race?” I asked to break the tension.
Storm patted Hunter’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Tristan told me how you turned her down.”
Hunter gave a solemn nod. “I would never touch a married woman.”
“I know. Hey, why don’t you call Tristan? He has to be here somewhere.” Storm looked around the stands. “Do you see him?”
“No, why don’t you call him yourself?”
“Told you – I did, several times, but he’s ignoring me.”
/> Hunter had updated his wristband to the newest model and judging by how long it took him to maneuver the thing and call Tristan, I figured he wasn’t that familiar with it yet.
“Hey, where are you? What? Speak up, Tristan, I can’t hear you.” Hunter pushed at his small earbud. “Are you at the race?
I could only hear Storm’s part of the conversation as he spoke.
“Yeah, we’re here too. Storm got tickets although they aren’t very good. Row twenty-four, in the yellow section. Where are you?” Hunter turned around. “Fuck it! I knew you had better tickets. I bet you can see the pilots when they fly by and all.”
Storm pushed Hunter on the shoulder. “Ask Tristan if he can get us in backstage after the race. I want to see his drone up close.”
Hunter delivered the request and nodded. “Got it. Okay, see you there.”
“What did he say?” Storm asked, and because he was leaning over me, I pulled back, lifting my beer and turkey drumstick out of the way.
Hunter gave us a satisfied grin. “Tristan told us to meet him at the VIP entrance after the race.”
“Yes.” Storm lit up. “That’s what I’m talking about. Not that it should be necessary if you would play your celebrity card.”
Hunter was a star soccer player; we could never go anywhere without him being surrounded by fans. He’d already taken pictures with several people on our way to our seats. If he wanted to go backstage all he had to do was go down there and throw his name around, but that wasn’t Hunter’s style.
“Where is Tristan?” I asked and turned around in my seat.
“Four rows from the top, in the middle – do you see him?”
I squinted my eyes. “No. Is he the one wearing a drone hat?”
Hunter laughed and pointed but there were at least fifty rows between us and the top. “He’s four… no, five seats to the right of that guy.”
“In a yellow t-shirt. Yeah, I see him.” I frowned. “Wait, is that a female next to him? Is he with her?”
