"Where?"
"I don't know–"
"Are you playing games with me, farmer?"
"I don't know, but I know there is more. There is a lab. I don't know where it is. Not exactly. But I know that's where the fertilizer come from. A lab at the University. I have never been there."
"Your father told you this? The Sky Reverends?"
"No, not them. But I... heard of this place before." Before I was going to blow up the first ship.
"Then you will have to find it."
"I can't. I cannot help you with it. I don't know anyone who can get me into the lab or even into the University.
"You will have to try."
"I can't... they would know I don't belong there. I can't get in. They'd throw me off the campus before I got two feet in."
The angry man leaned against the wall. He smiled, and Harper cringed inside. He stared at the angry man who didn't look even remotely angry anymore.
What?
"So." The soldier looked down at Harper who said nothing. "Are you sure? Are you sure that you can do nothing to get into the University lab?"
"Nothing. I am sure. By telling you... I have done everything I can."
"I see."
"I am not lying."
"Well then. We will have to get to it ourselves. Thank y–"
"What do you mean get to it yourselves?"
"That's none of your concer–"
"Will you torture more old chair makers til you find one who can help you?"
"That is not your concern. You have been very helpful, Harper Fields. Thank you."
"What are you going to–"
It shook.
The base shook.
The walls trembled, the shadows of the bed, the door, Harper's own figure, the shadows shifted as the lights moved on the walls.
Just for a second. A half-second.
Harper grabbed the edge of the bed frame. His hands tightened like vices on the sharp metal edge. But it was only a trembling. A slight shaking. A half-second tremor.
A trembling that shook a giant ship.
Harper's hand shook more.
Father? Was that you?
He looked up at the angry man. The soldier smiled. Silently. Harper's heart beat so fast it felt like it was trembling. His breath had stopped. His lungs spasmed as he tried to restart them.
"What–what was that?"
"Don't worry. It's okay," the smiling angry man said.
"Don't worry? What was it? What–"
"You really don't have to concern yourself with that. Your cooperation has been greatly appreciated."
"My-my... Wait... no, no..."
Something shook inside Harper, something worse than his father, worse than the revenge of the Sky Reverends.
"No...."
He was on his feet. The angry man watched, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, relaxed, looking at him with a slight smile.
Harper ran.
Out the room, two steps and he was at the end of the hall. Around the corner, he pelted through the hallways, spun around corners, tried to remember the way out, squeezed the memories out through the panic, backtracked, ran some more. Then, finally, the door was ahead and he was through it, past the guard, past the checkpoint without even a glance this time, out into scorching heat of Skyland, dry earth pounding under his feet.
Nobody stopped him.
Smoke rose on the horizon.
He could see the curls of smoke rising in the glow... the glow of something burning far off.
He ran.
Even in the dim light of the early night – the night which had been set alight – even in the dim glow, the heat of the air burned him after the coolness of the ship. And the glow on the horizon... the glow, distant, almost gentle, burned into his eyes.
And he ran.
Out in the dark, out past the village, out past the fields. He ran.
Until...
He stopped.
His feet stood on the blackened edge of a crater. The ground dipped away before him, down, down, down into smoke and smoldering rubble. He teetered on his toes on the edge of the smoking hole. Pebbles still rolled around the edges. Any minute he would fall. The dirt beneath his feet would crumble, the stones fall away and he would be tumbling down the crater's slope.
Something thundered in the air behind him. He jumped, almost slipping down the slope into the crater. Then he took a step back.
Not thunder.
He breathed in the smoke. He coughed.
On his periphery, other lights glowed in the dark. He turned around. On the horizon there was a darker plume of smoke. Fires had sprung up around the country, and further off in the city.
And he ran.
Chapter Twenty Seven
in which there is a decision...
"Father!"
The door stood ajar. Harper kicked it the rest of the way open.
"Father!"
No one answered.
The house was empty.
Harper tore out the door, ran through the streets he had passed in a panic only minutes before. He shouted till he was hoarse. The streets were deserted. He banged on doors, kicked them open, ran up and down stairs. The houses were deserted. He looked around the flat landscape, whipping his head around this way and that, squinting in the dim light. The fields were deserted.
They know they are under attack.
At the edge of town he turned northeast and sprinted until–
He stopped so short he stumbled a little over his own feet.
No.
There were shelters, underground like the dirt stores, shelters that had been built before the famine. Harper had been running, without thinking, towards where his father and the villagers must – must – be hiding.
Someone will be watching, will be following me. Someone will want to know where they are hiding.
He stood with his foot hovering in a half-step for a moment then spun around.
No. I did not come to help the invaders destroy the country. I am not a traitor.
Even now – even now – after lying to his own father and cooperating with the Union, something forced Harper to stop, forced him away from the spots he knew the Sky Reverends were hiding with the rest of the country folk.
Let them hide. And hide well.
He would not betray them all.
He ran back through his village, ran back to the base then past it, ran back towards the city, back over the bridge, back to the docks where he ran straight into a crowd of people.
Just days before the docks had been empty of Skylanders, save for the defense units. Now there were people everywhere. Trotting here and there. Standing confused. Staring into the night. And asking, asking, asking.
"What is...?"
"Why?"
"Who did....?"
"What...?"
Harper's heart beat hard in his chest. And glanced wildly around. But the panic he felt in his chest, he did not see in the Skylanders around him. It was soft confusion. Not fear. Not panic.
Do they know the planet has a new crater in it?
Here, where the glow of city lights bathed the docks, the light of fires could not be seen. But Harper smelled smoke. And farther away from the buzzing docks, in some more distant neighborhood of the city, there were cries.
"Clear out, folks, clear out!"
Someone nudged Harper from behind. He turned and his eyes fell on the blue neck band of the Skyland soldier who had spoken.
"You are safe. Everything is taken care of. Out of the way, now, out of the way!"
He moved around the docks herding the confused crowd back to the city streets, away from the ships. Harper looked around and saw other soldiers doing the same. People jostled together, moved where they were herded, bumped into each other. Whispers floated through the crowd.
"It's gone..."
"The University... it's gone."
"They said... just gone."
Harper stomach clenched. He doubled up, hands on
trembling knees, trying to keep himself from falling on the ground.
"Move along now, move along."
The blue-banded Skyland soldier had a hand on his shoulder, pressing him up into a standing position, pushing him back towards the inner streets of the city, off the docks. Harper ducked away under his arm and ran back to the bridge, then over it, then out into the country, back towards the base.
The confusion of the crowd faded behind him. The cries lingered longer, then faded as he walked. They faded into the distance, a vague, high-pitched hum, like bird calls from afar.
Then it was quiet.
As soon as he passed the checkpoint and crossed the threshold of the base the hum disappeared completely. Inside the ship, all was calm. The halls were still hushed, some people lingered, walking here and there, chatting. Some laughed. Some yawned.
Ahead, the angry man still leaned against the wall, as though he had not moved at all, as though he had stood there waiting for Harper to return. Even the sickening smile was still sitting, waiting on the pouchy face. It stretched as he opened his mouth to speak.
"We knew you'd be ba–"
"What the hell were you thinking?" Harper's hands shot out, slamming hard into the soldier's chest. "What were you thinking?"
"We had to destroy the weapons of the Sky Reverends."
"And the countryside? You had to destroy that too? And the University?"
"We had no choice."
"But the people! Our farms!"
"They were concealing explosives."
"Not they! Were there... were there... " He snapped his jaw shut and swallowed the sick that rose in his throat, threatening to choke him. "Were there... people in the University? In the fields?"
"It is nighttime. The collateral will be minimal. It was the best we could do."
"The best? The best?"
"Five thousand were killed on the second Skyland ship."
"Five thousand... five thousand... Do you even know how many people were in the places you just bombed? Did you even count? You didn't... you couldn't... you... you..." Words wouldn't come. Sentences fell apart in Harper's head. The nausea climbed up from the pit of his stomach.
The angry man kept smiling. "We needed to–"
"The city is burning. The country is a crater. You needed? You needed!"
"It's good news, Harper Fields."
"Good–good news?"
"Looks like you're going to see your wife again."
"What?"
"They'll be sending off the next ship pretty soon, and you've got yourself a ticket on it."
"You don't want me to keep helping? You said... you said..." His mind struggled for clarity. Rage and disgust muddied his vision. "You wanted me to try again... before–"
"I'd keep you around, but it's not my decision. It looks like someone wants you out."
"What? Why?"
"Don't know. Don't care."
Harper stared at him. He shook his head. Words still bounced around, meaningless, in his head. But one thought was playing on a loop in his ear.
Sending off the other ship. "Why... why are they sending the other ship? So soon... so... Why?"
The angry man shrugged. "Because they can. Because they want to get as many off this rock as possible."
"But so soon..."
"Relax. We've destroyed the biggest source of the dirt and security's been tripled since the last attempt. Not one grain'll get on that ship."
"You just blew a hole in the country... it doesn't matter... it doesn't matter what security you've got, someone–someone will... will find some way–"
"Some way to what? Their weapon is gone."
"I don't know. They'll do something."
The angry man just looked at him. The smile was gone, replaced by a calculating squint. "They? You've got names?"
"I don't know. Look... let me talk to my father."
"We've had people looking for him. Slipped away after he talked to you."
"Let me... let me..." Do what? "Let me try to convince him... or talk to the others, see if I can reason with them."
"Can you find him?"
Harper gritted his teeth. Expose his people's hiding places? He stared at his feet. He could feel tears beginning to prick the back of his eyes.
More will die. "Yes."
"Fine then."
"I will try. But I am a traitor. They will not... they will not..." I am a traitor.
"You can try."
"I can."
"But, tomorrow. Get some rest for now. We've got our own people on the lookout tonight, and more coming in from the Proper. If we haven't found him by morning, you can have a go."
The angry man stepped out of the way, his footsteps sounded for a moment and then disappeared around a corner.
Harper leaned his head against the wall. Somehow his feet made it into the tiny room, to the bed and he fell onto it.
And the tears fell.
They are crazy.
Harper shook his head at the ceiling. The lights had come back on sometime near dawn, after a sleepless night. He'd watched the glow begin, a soft light around what must have been a sunrise, after indeterminate hours of night. He had not slept. The layers of puffy quilts against his back were no comfort. The mattress might as well have been made of rocks.
Crazy. They are crazy.
Crazy. It was the only word that had come out of the jumble in his head. Again and again. It didn't even make sense. They weren't crazy, and that was what made it so hard. The Sky Reverends, they were zealots, crazed by worship. But the Union folks, they were something else. Not crazed. Not zealots.
They were machines, cold and calculating. Or rather, calculated. Calculated by some invisible mind Harper hadn't seen yet. And yet–
Crazy.
At least the Sky Reverends believed in what they were doing. The Union troops? They were just doing. Doing the tasks they were calculated for.
But calculated by whom?
"...somebody wants you out," the angry man had said. Just like somebody knew who he was, somebody had known where to find him, somebody had made sure he was treated as a guest rather than a prisoner, now somebody was sending him off Skyland.
At least Harper knew who the Sky Reverends were. The hand behind the Union machine was invisible.
He shook his head again.
Crazy.
He couldn't help thinking it.
Maybe not all the Union soldiers were crazy. But enough of them were. At least enough of the ones in charge – the ones who had given the order to blow a crater in the country side and target a University.
Crazy.
Someone knocked on the door, and Harper jumped. He grimaced at the ceiling. He really, really just wanted to stay here on this puffy pile of blankets, even with as little comfort as they gave. The thought of getting up, facing another day, another inquiry, another betrayal, made the bed a much more appealing option. He sighed. Then, without rising, he stuck out his foot from the bed and kicked the door open.
"What?"
Wills stood on the other side. The wide smile wasn't so wide, the curious eyes weren't so curious, the open and friendly face was not so open. It was still friendly though. Still kind and alert and a little curious.
Harper looked back to the ceiling. He didn't want to look at the friendly face. He still didn't believe the young soldier had not been in on the trap to get him to talk to the chair maker in the prison wing. He still didn't trust Wills.
He may not be crazy. But there is a controlling hand above him pulling the strings who is.
There was a moment of silence as the young soldier stared at the farmer who stared at the ceiling. Then,
"Hey," said Wills.
"Hey."
"Breakfast?"
Harper stared at him. Breakfast. It seemed so utterly mundane after the chaos of the previous night. But his stomach rumbled. All of the sudden he felt the emptiness there, an emptiness that matched the his thoughts, as if he had been drained in the last
few hours.
"Sure."
Finally, he pushed himself into a sitting position.
For a second he froze up. His feet were unwilling to take his weight. His head just wanted to be back on the puffy white pillow. His heart just wouldn't keep pumping his blood in a vertical direction up to his head. Just being awake was draining more energy than he could muster.
For a moment, standing was unthinkable.
But he braced himself. His palms pressed against the mattress, and he got to his feet.
Wills was silent as he turned to walk down towards the mess. Harper followed, watching. There were light grey circles under the young soldier's eyes. The smile, small and probably only there out of habit, was unmoving like it was painted on. Harper looked away and gritted his teeth. That smile, the smile he'd first interpreted as open and friendly was just a mask. It had to be.
It's not his fault. He follows his orders as you did yours.
Harper thought of his father's sermons, the words still graven in his head, and the pervasive will of the Sky Reverends, bending everything it touched. He felt a bit of pity for the soldier walking in silence beside him. Surely his indoctrination had been as complete as any Sky Reverend's child's. But even as he thought this, a small voice in his head whispered.
But you didn't follow orders.
They walked in silence for a bit. Then,
"How-how are you?" Wills asked.
Harper glared at him for a second. He shook his head and tried to soften the glare. He forced his eyes to un-narrow, his teeth to unclench, his grimace to relax.
No. It wasn't him. He is not the controlling hand. "I'm fine."
"I didn't know," Wills said. "I didn't know what they were going to do."
"Right."
"I didn't. I'm sorry." The smile was completely gone now. He shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry."
"Of course."
"But the weapons are gone. That dirt, it would have killed a lot of people, wouldn't it?"
"Yes." Harper glanced at him. He is so sad. He recognized the confusion in the eyes and felt a twinge of pity. But rage still boiled beneath it.
"I'm sorry," Wills recited.
"So how many did your ships kill? At the University? In the desert?"
"There weren't many people in the University. Or out beyond the fields at night."
Skyland One Page 18
