by Davies, WJ
“Skyia, there’s so much I have to tell you. Just let me unpack and grab a bite to eat. Then you and I are going on a drive, just the two of us. There’s so much you need to know.”
Her mom’s expression turned serious as she left the room, and Skyia wondered what could possibly rattle her—that constant and never changing rock in her life.
She slipped back into her silver tunic and a short while later, Cassidy emerged from her bedroom rubbing a shoulder. She had changed out of her travel clothes—dusty and bedraggled as they were from her long buggy ride up from the city—and now sported a Spindex endurance suit, the kind usually worn by athletes or pilots. It hugged tightly against her body and—despite being almost forty-years-old—highlighted a figure that many men lusted over and held in their minds long after she disappeared from view.
Her mom’s sandy-blonde hair was similar to her own, although Skyia’s had an obvious dash of darker shades to it, as if her genes hadn’t been able to decide whether to keep her mother’s dirty-blonde hair, or her father’s ruddy brown. Not that she knew what her father’s hair looked like—she’d never seen a picture of him, nor had her mom even told her his name—but Skyia’s imagination tended to run wild with such extrapolations. She often wondered where her specific genetic traits came from. She had to stop herself from always asking questions about her father: what his name was, what he looked like, how tall he was, and most importantly, what had really happened between him and her mom.
As Cassidy crossed the room, the skin-tight Spindex revealed her strong, muscled legs. Her motions were powerful, yet graceful. Skyia thought of her own body: a younger, smaller imitation of her mother’s. She wondered if men would look at her the same way; she wondered whether she’d want them to. She’d never had a boyfriend, barely had any male friends, and so far, she hadn’t given a lick about boys. Sure, she had her celebrity crushes—which teenage girl didn’t?—but she’d never felt the desire for an actual relationship with a boy. She always imagined she’d sail that ship when it arrived in port, which it certainly had yet to do. Besides, she didn’t imagine she’d attract men the way her mother did. Skyia knew she wasn’t nearly as graceful, smart, or charming as she was. Maybe some day…
She met her mom at the door and took her hand. Together, they walked toward the buggy, not speaking, just content to be in each other’s presence. Skyia dropped her mom’s hand and walked around to the passenger side. She hauled herself up into the vehicle, grateful for the open top which wouldn’t hamper their view of the gorgeous sunset hues streaming through the clouds.
“MiLO says we only have a few days of light left.” Skyia said regretfully.
Cassidy nodded. “I guess I came home just in time. Don’t worry, I’ll have MiLO begin the Night preparations soon, although I’m sure he’s already begun.”
She looked at her daughter as she inserted the key into the ignition, coaxing the vehicle to life. “So, what have you been up to while I was away?”
“Oh you know me, nothing too exciting,” Skyia raised a hand. “Mostly just studying, reading, spending time up on the mesa.” She didn’t mention the fall, unsure whether MiLO had brought it up. No need to stress her mom out.
“How are your courses going? Did MilO get a chance to go over some of that advanced calculus you were having trouble with last time I was home? I’m sorry I wasn’t much use, mathematics have never been my strongest subject.”
Skyia raised her eyebrows. “…says the world famous scientist?”
Cassidy shrugged. “I’m a geophysicist. We leave all the complicated math up to the computers.”
“Well, why can’t I leave it up to the computers?” Skyia suggested.
“It’s not so much about learning math for real life applications. It’s more to teach your brain how to solve problems and develop good study habits. Very few things we learn in school are applicable to real life. Your studies are designed to train your brain, make you smarter,” she said.
“Well, considering how much studying I do when you’re gone, I’m gonna be the smartest girl on Taran.”
Skyia grabbed hold of the side bar as her mom reversed out of the car hold, spun the wheel with practiced skill, and barrelled toward the pathway leading up the mountain road. They drove in the opposite direction of the electrified gate, and any dangers that might be lurking behind it.
“My muscles feel a bit achey from all the travelling,” Cassidy said over the engine noise, rubbing a shoulder with one hand and steering with the other. “Let’s see if we can find some lily of the valley, I’ll get MiLO to mix something up with it once we get home.”
Skyia nodded and started scanning the patches of vegetation lining the road, looking for those telltale white flowers. She thought they may have been one of the flower species imported from Earth, though she couldn’t quite remember.
The noise from the engine and crunching gravel made any conversation nearly impossible. As was their custom, they rode together in comfortable silence, knowing that once they reached their destination they could speak freely.
Chapter 16
Reggie gazed upward as they passed through the station door. The flagship Alexendian train port was truly impressive. Marble and glass surrounded him, ferns and exotic plants grew from wall-gardens, and white pillars rose up out of an intricately patterned stone floor.
The tracks were suspended twenty meters in the air and connected to a vast transportation network which formed a loop around the planet, running through every major city on the east-west latitude band of human settlement. The original colonists had chosen their desired climate zone and had built in that latitude all the way around the globe. The only expansion north or south of that lateral line was when it was necessary for operations such as mining—like the titanium mines to the north of Corpoli—or power generation—such as the binary cycle thermal mines in Bangalia. With a total population of only twenty-five million people, Tarans had never needed to move outside their comfort zone.
Reggie pushed through the entrance and was greeted with a rush of brisk air. He relaxed a little as he felt the clinically sterile breeze swirl around him, cooling his body.
“That’s better, eh Reg?” Stevens nudged him in the ribs as they walked toward a long line at the ticket counter. Magnus shot his partner a look that said please, try to be professional.
Reggie followed the two men as they walked straight past the ticket counters and into the main foyer of the station.
“We don’t need to buy tickets?” Reggie asked, glancing back at the counter.
“Who do you think we are, normal people?” Stevens patted his breast pocket where the outline of three tickets were visible through the thin fabric.
The ceiling opened up as they passed into the platform area. Above, steel beams criss-crossed the vast enclosure and the suns shone in through a glass ceiling. During the Night, the glass would display serene blue skies and puffy white clouds: a gimmick to calm weary travellers as they waited for their trains. Many homes and buildings employed such visual trickery at Night. Even Reggie’s apartment had holo-glass windows that he could program with an almost infinite variety of weather conditions. He liked to set it to random and speed up the simulation, watching weather patterns shift and change at an impossibly fast rate. For some reason, swirling clouds and frantic rain storms made him feel at peace.
“Here we are,” Magnus said as they approached platform seven.
Reggie hadn’t been on a mag-lev train since his last foray into the Andalusian province, where he’d filmed the butterflies. These mag-levs were the most sophisticated trains ever built by human hands; even compared with what they supposedly used to have on Earth. The lighter Taran gravity allowed humans to do many things which would have been impossible on Earth. On a proper straightaway, the mag-levs could reach speeds as high as six-hundred kilometers per hour—by far the fastest way to travel around the planet.
Reggie stepped to the edge of the platform and examined the tracks, whic
h weren’t really tracks at all, but an intertwining series of powerful superconducting electromagnets. They interacted with equally powerful magnets on the bottom of the train, enabling the train to hover a meter or two in the air. An ion engine at the rear of the train propelled it forward, allowing it to quickly accelerate to high speeds. The only friction occurred due to air resistance, none from the track itself. On Earth, such a train would have been too heavy for this system to work, but at eighty-percent of Earth’s gravity, Taran transportation was safer and more economically viable.
Of course, Earth had also had airplanes. With the increase in orbital disruptions the past two decades, Taran could no longer afford such luxuries. The intense gravitational and electromagnetic disturbances saw to that. When the first major disruption struck, the delicate navigational tools used by pilots went haywire, and dozens of planes crashed and burned. Some lucky pilots were able to make crash landings using no technological assistance, but air travel had been banned shortly after that disastrous event.
After a short wait—Stevens whistling some inane pop song—Reggie saw their train approaching in the distance. Its hulking frame grew larger as it neared the station. A sleek white nose glistened, gently curving up to meet the main body of the train. It possessed the wind resistance of a bullet, and was nearly as fast. The train slowed gracefully, a soft swish of displaced air the only sound betraying its entrance into the station.
Swooping into the platform, passengers instinctively stepped back from the tracks, as if the great emerging beast would lash out at them without warning. It hissed to a halt and wide doors opened up along its glossy hull, accepting passengers in a torrent of moving bodies.
Magnus grabbed Reggie by the arm and pulled him into one of the foremost cars near the front of the train. They climbed the steps and passed under an arch into the cool compress of the train’s first compartment. Even though the doors were open, the interior air had a sterilized feeling, created by rapid pressurization that would occur in less than ten minutes when the train would zip out of the station.
A man with dark sunglasses and a large briefcase bumped into Reggie from behind, giving him a sour look as he pushed past them into the train.
• Acceptance •
Chapter 17
A gash cut across Linsya’s head the size of a man’s hand.
She lay on the rocky ground—eyes closed and breathing shallow. Blood seeped out of a deep wound in her skull and oozed down the side of her face. When it reached the bottom of her cheek, it gathered there a moment and then dripped, spilling down her neck.
Jonathas brought a hand to his forehead, surveying the gruesome scene. Linsya looked like a corpse, laid out in the basement of some crematorium, ready to be placed inside a kiln and fired up. If only he’d found her sooner. If only she had stayed with him after the disruption. If only their planet wasn’t getting knocked about its axis, turning their home into a fucking deathtrap.
This was his way of grieving, blaming events out of his control in a futile attempt to shirk the blame off to some other place, some other person. But Jonathas knew the truth: had he not lost consciousness they would still be together right now, both healthy and alert, trying to find their way out of this mess together.
Or would they? Perhaps they would have been walking through the hall where poor Fletcher had perished and would have succumbed to that same grisly fate?
Jonathas decided it was futile thinking such thoughts. One can’t blame the ghosts of the past, nor control the wills of the future. What’s done is done, and all that matters is now.
He knelt down beside Linsya. Despite his previous regrets, he had a lot to be thankful for. Linsya wasn’t dead. At least not yet. And he himself was still alive, able to help her as much as he could. Jonathas realized if he had died in the cave-in, she surely would die here.
Her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. He checked her pulse. It was weak, but consistent. He reached into his pouch for the knife. Finding it, he gave a little flick which released the blade and he cut the sleeve off the arm of his coveralls. With one hand he gently lifted up Linsya’s head and with the other he wrapped the soft fabric around her wound.
Satisfied that he dressed her injury as best as possible given the circumstances, Jonathas resumed his search for a way out. A ramp in the far corner of the room led up to a large steel door, which was closed shut, cold and immovable.
Jonathas leaned close. “It’s ok, Linsya, we’ll make it.” He spoke to her unconscious form as much as to himself.
He walked to the steel door and was relieved to see the side panel was still intact. He tried to picture where they were in the complex—just below the surface level, he hoped. He figured this door would lead to one of the delegation rooms on ground level, but unless they’d already updated his security card with the new privileges of an Operator, he wouldn’t have access. He passed his card over the reader. A harsh buzz and blinking red light was all the reciprocation he got back.
“Looks like we’ll have to get creative,” he said aloud.
He dug into his pockets for his multi-tool and used it to remove four screws. The thin metal covering clanged to the floor, exposing a mishmash of colored wires: a tangled sea of red, yellow, and blue.
Growing up in Bangalia was tough for any kid, but Jonathas, after his parents had been killed in a mining accident, had had to get creative in order to provide for himself. At times, he’d used his knowledge in electronic security to procure a decent meal besides the cold gruel given to orphans, or to obtain an extra sweater or blanket during the Long Night. He had quickly learned how to bypass the shelter's surprisingly simple security measures, a skill he never thought he’d have to use again.
He deftly skinned the plastic off one of the blue wires and did the same with an adjacent red. Rubbing the two exposed coils together created a quick flash of sparks and the steel door gave him a click for his efforts. Satisfied, he dug around in his bag for his crowbar. He jimmied it into the space where the two halves of door met and cranked it to one side. It budged slightly. He levered it back and forth until there was a gap between the doors the size of his hand. He stuck his arm through and used his own strength to pull the door the rest of the way open.
Light! Glorious light spilled out through the opening, and Jonathas saw the delegation hall beyond the gap. Sunlight streamed in through windows just as tears streamed down his cheek.
“Help!” he cried. “Anybody, please, there’s an injured woman here!”
Jonathas didn’t wait for a response, but instead ran back toward Linsya. He cradled her head with his elbow, tucked his other arm underneath her knees and lifted her up. She wasn’t heavy, but Jonathas was weak from being trapped below the surface for so many hours with neither food nor water.
He sauntered toward the door as quickly as his feeble strength would allow.
“Jonathas?”
Linsya didn’t open her eyes but his name escaped her lips, her voice barely audible.
“It’s ok, Lins, I’ve got you. We’re safe now.”
He turned sideways so they could fit through the narrow opening, and they emerged into the delegation chamber.
It felt like walking into another world. Instead of the rough stone walls and dusty ground, this room was grandiose: polished hardwood lined the floors, a luxurious chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a beautiful oak conference table dominated the centre of the chamber. This was where the higher-ups held their meetings with other division heads, or where city delegates would come to proposition the Department of Distributions, hoping to secure more energy for their districts.
Jonathas approached the table and laid Linsya out on its smooth top. He scanned the room looking for anything he could use to communicate with the medical bay.
There!
On a far wall hung an emergency phone. He ran over to it and with his elbow, smashed the weak glass casing. He picked up the receiver, praying it was operable.
His ears wer
e met with the sweet sound of a dial tone.
Jonathas punched the bright red button in the centre of the phone and it started ringing. After only two rings a hesitant voice answered the call.
“Hello?” A man’s voice said.
“Yes, my name is Jonathas,” his heart was racing as he checked the sign above the door, “I’m in the East delegation room, section 109. Please send someone immediately, my friend is badly injured.”
The man on the other end of the line sighed with relief. “Good to hear there's people still alive down there, Jonathas. You wouldn’t believe the damage reports. I’m sending someone now, hold tight.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Jonathas hung up the phone and stumbled back to the table, collapsing in a leather chair in front of Linsya.
“Jonathas?" Linsya moaned. "Where are we?”
He smiled at her, relieved that she was capable of speech. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. We’re out of the mines.”
She struggled to meet his eyes, wincing in pain. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wanted to find help.”
“It's ok, Lins," Jonathas grinned. "I'm glad you made it. Your dad would never believe me if I told him we were a couple."
Linsya gave a small laugh as Jonathas brushed a string of hair from her face.
"I’m never leaving your side again, you hear me?”
“Works for me,” Linsya smiled and closed her eyes.
His warm hand found her cold one, and his weary bones overtook him. His forehead met the smooth wood and he closed his eyes, passing into a deep oblivion.
Chapter 18
Skyia looked over at her mom, the buggy casting a shadow along the rocky mountain wall beside them. Mother and daughter, separated by only twenty years, were both stronger than they knew. As they drove, Skyia could feel the bonds that existed between them yawning, stretching out and reawakening. They vibrated with a palpable energy that existed in a secret world that only the two of them shared.
