Transitions

by Jesikah Sundin

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  DEDICATED TO | My mother-in-law, Penny Sundin | And | Jessica Jett, Hannah Miller, and Andra Perju

  EMBER

  SKYLAR

  RAIN

  MACK

  LYNDEN

  Read THE CODE at

  Before Leaving | Did you enjoy TRANSITIONS, book two in “The Biodome Chronicles?” | If so, PLEASE consider leaving a short review. | Reviews greatly affect an author’s career and are a wonderful way to show your support. | THANK YOU!

  AUTHOR NOTES

  HACKER TERMINOLOGY

  ANIME and JAPANESE TERMINOLOGY

  ADDITIONAL DEFINITIONS

  TRANSLATIONS

  SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

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  About the Author

  DEDICATED TO

  My mother-in-law, Penny Sundin

  And

  Jessica Jett, Hannah Miller, and Andra Perju

  EMBER

  ***

  “But what sort of a witch am I if I work as a milk-maid all the time and have no time for leisure? I want to live and work in peace and not suffer from back-ward people.”

  ––Komsomolskaya Pravda, 1964 *

  See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!

  Come! let the burial rite be read—the funeral song be sung!—

  An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young—

  A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.

  ––Edgar Allen Poe, “Lenore,” Pioneer, February 1843 *

  Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic.

  ––Frida Kahlo, painter, 20th century *

  ***

  New Eden Township, Salton Sea, California

  Tuesday, December 1, 2054

  Week Five of Project Phase Two

  The ropes beneath the mattress groaned and Ember stilled. When Leaf did not move, she untangled her leg from the blanket and resumed her shuffle toward the end of the bed. The cold floor burned her feet and sparked shivers up the length of her exposed body. Tip-toeing across the night-chilled room, she fetched her woolen chemise from the floor and shimmied into the garment. The warmth did little to ease the persistent guilt gnawing her insides.

  She stole a glance over her shoulder at the rumpled covers she left behind. Fingers of moonlight touched her husband’s back. Yellow and green bruises dotted his ribcage and torso. Evidence of the community’s betrayal lingered still. His body was healing, his leg growing stronger with each passing day, the black eye fading from deep purples to mottled browns. His heart, however, especially where she was concerned, remained injured. Nevertheless, he loved her despite the secrets she was pressed to keep; secrets she regretted ever having at all. This choice had been made for her. Much the same as it had been for him. Time, she decided, was an ally and an enemy.

  Ember glided by his side of the bed to retrieve her tunic dress, then maneuvered to the other end of the chamber with delicate steps to finish dressing. She darted her gaze back to his sleeping form, afraid the rustle of clothing in the stillness would rouse him. Yet, despite her worries, his breathing rose and fell with sleep’s steady rhythm, his face pressed into the pillow that his well-muscled arms embraced. A sight that caused her pulse to falter a beat.

  This night, for the first time since the Great Fire, and after the rest of the household gave way to slumber, those very arms had embraced her. Still-fresh memories of their time together––his fervent kisses, the words of love he whispered across her skin––sashayed through her mind. Pleasure burned in her stomach with each remembrance. If not for the discomforting knot tightening in her belly, she would smile. But to smile would be a disservice to the shame she rightly carried.

  He loved her, and he always would. She knew. And although his vulnerability built a bridge toward healing this night, he no longer trusted her with his pain as before. For she was one of many who had deceived him. There is no turning back time. There is no undoing choices made. The course was now set and they needed to journey toward fresh beginnings. She would allow him to set the pace and guide their relationship, allow him to need and refuse her until his heart no longer ached.

  For weeks they had side-stepped around each other’s grief. The ash of her family home continued to shroud the biodome in bereavement. This was a public wake. Each resident carried a role in the Ceremonies of Death, each ritual another act in rebuilding a new future inside New Eden.

  Leaf’s pain, however, was private. Only a select few knew that Timothy was behind Joel’s death, a decision made to protect the innocence of what remained of Skylar’s family. Rather, the community believed that Timothy was banished for orchestrating the faction, the very one that harmed their King and burned down their village. Nor did the community know that Fillion was imprisoned for temporarily shutting down the biodome as a strategic move to save Leaf’s life. They believed Hanley’s speech, which explained the event as an unfortunate technology glitch and offered heartfelt apologies from New Eden Enterprises and the lab.

  As a neighborly gesture, Hanley had personally brought in exotic fruits, a variety of cheeses, and chocolates for Sunday feast, a week after the Great Fire. The community quickly forgave their inconveniences and set aside every grievance. To sample foods not labored for was a rare treat, indeed. Leaf did not partake of the gifts, nor she, deflecting with wishes for the community to enjoy their fill.

  Willow hid in a vacant apartment on the West End of the main biodome that night, too disgusted to entertain introductions with Hanley Nichols. Late the next morning, she emerged with head held high and offered no apologies or explanations to the community. The Daughter of Earth ignored the whispers and haughty stares. “New Eden is as fickle as the wind,” she had declared. And she was right.

  With bellies full and the wool pulled over their eyes, the village gossips turned their attentions Ember’s direction. Poked and prodded for weeks now, Leaf refused to answer the gossips as to whether or not he had known of his wife’s “magic” before the Great Fire. Despite his feelings of betrayal, he publicly esteemed her for negotiating his release and guiding the community in their time of distress. The words he spoke were genuine; the capacity for falsehood did not dwell inside her husband. But his eyes dulled during each exchange, a physical response he believed he hid well from her. Not so, for they were bonded. She easily discerned the most subtle of mood changes in him and knew his rhythm and nature as if they were her very own.

  Regardless of his careful answers, people remained superstitious. Most especially the second generation, who viewed her as an otherworldly enigma. “Witch,” they hissed in hushed tones as she passed by. Children were scooped up, some even warned to not look in her eyes. For she might bewitch them with the same magic used to subdue the men who were bent on violence to dethrone their King to raise up another.

  Ember swallowed back the embarrassment and lifted her chin. Her only focus, only purpose, was to serve her husband while he poured himself out for his family and his Kingdom. To be his haven, his refuge, was an honor higher than any other––an honor she no longer held. Her betrayal of his trust was a disgrace she would rectify if it cost her everything. A sad smile pulled at her lips as the knot in her stomach intensified.

  Ever so carefully, she draped her cloak along the back of her chair and studied her husband once more. He was a powerful man. More powerful than he realized. Sitting on the edge of their cot, Ember kissed her fingers then trailed them down her husband’s spine in reverence. This back carried the burdens of many. Muscles moved beneath her fingertips as he awoke. Rolling to his side, Leaf squinted open his eyes. The moon’s silver light threaded through the curls in his hair and caressed t
he smooth planes of his face, still flushed from sleep, while darkening the prominent bruising around his eye.

  “Are you unwell?” he asked. The drowsy but husky quality of his deep voice filled her with warmth.

  “No, My Lord. Quite well, actually.” Leaf eased up to a sitting position and Ember admired his body beneath lowered lashes. He furrowed his brows and took her hand, silently noting her fully dressed state. Before he could ask, she said, “It is time for me to depart for a Guild meeting.”

  “I see. Why not tell me of your meeting prior to now?” She waited for him to answer his own question. A few heartbeats later, he removed his hand and looked away.

  “Come with me, My Lord.”

  “Shall the others welcome my uninvited presence?”

  “You are their beloved King, how could they not welcome you? Come, My Lord, and you shall see.”

  Leaf remained silent for far too long, before saying, “If it pleases you, Ember.” Her name ended on a soft note, almost a hush. He rarely spoke her name. Rather, he chose to esteem her with honorary titles. Yet, she knew when he said, “My Lady,” it contained layered meanings. She was his lady, his family, and carried his name. It was a matter of pride.

  “Leaf,” she whispered. He looked up. The power he so often forgot to display emanated this very moment from his posture, in the tilt of his head, to the way his eyes took her in––all of her. “You bow before no man in New Eden Township out of fear or expectation,” she reassured his silhouette. “This is your Kingdom, and the Techsmith Guild yields to you. Come and receive our fealty.”

  “I am King, yes,” he said. “But I shall be at the mercy of individuals who have led two lives within our Township. Individuals who have willingly deceived their own families. I am quite through with secrets.”

  Ember lowered her head with his rebuke. As The Aether, his secrets were upheld by The Code and guarded by the community. They were acceptable secrets. Unlike hers. Shame and guilt continued to form knots in her stomach and she nearly doubled over. But he deserved respect and honor, not frailty. Repositioning her stance, she pushed back her shoulders while maintaining a modest, downcast expression, holding herself with all the elegance of her station. Nor would she speak and invalidate his injuries with excuses and justifications. His offense and distrust were merited.

  Leaf reached out and took her hand, whispering, “I love you,” with such passion, such conviction, that a pain, sharp and bright, lanced through her chest with the grief she had caused him. He cleared his throat and blinked away his shyness before beginning again. “Others may see my uninvited presence as a move to usurp Skylar. The offices of Aether and Guild Captain were separated for reasons I know not. I shall not tread upon traditions I do not fully understand.”

  “Skylar is not threatened by you, My Lord. The Techsmiths follow him and he shall lead them to you.”

  “And yet, despite my and Skylar’s many conversations, he has not extended an invitation.” Leaf covered his face as he sighed through his nose. His broad shoulders slumped and Ember nearly reached out to comfort him. Instead, she remained steady and allowed him his privacy to internalize his thoughts as long as he needed. Finally, after a measure of time, he dropped his hands and said, “I shall go if you ask for my company this evening, My Lady. But only because you desire it so and not for any political reasons.”

  The ache in his voice gave way to understanding. Ember smiled to herself as intuition glimmered throughout her thoughts. It was a buzzing sensation that had guided her since early childhood, one that often led to hunches. Many claimed it was a magic born from being a twin. Perhaps the only magic she truly contained.

  Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his and placed her hand upon his chest. “I desire your company, My Lord. All I do, all that I am, I desire to share with you, and you alone.”

  She allowed her words to sink in, to reach the pulse thrumming beneath her fingertips. The longing in his eyes deepened as her message reached a sacred part inside of him, the part that feared being viewed by her as weak, cowardly, and unworthy. Her hand caressed his chest, traveling over his broad shoulder and down his arm, feeling every muscle flex under her touch, until she gingerly laced her fingers with his.

  “Come, My Lord,” she beckoned with a small tug. But he remained unmoving. His hand slipped from hers and she drew in a quiet breath. Unsure of what else to do, she angled away to find his clothing nearby. Gathering his tunic and breeches, she placed them into his hands without meeting his eyes and said, “Secrets are foolish creatures, I have learned. No longer do I wish to play with fools.” Ember turned and did not look back. Not even when she fetched her cloak from the chair by their bed, nor when she quietly shut the door behind her.

  In the living room, shadows swayed upon the walls to the tempo of her wavering nerves. Back straight and hands clasped at her waist, she waited for Leaf. Her step-mother had raised her to be genuine, compassionate, and shrewd. She oft quoted the book of Saint Matthew in the Holy Scriptures to support this lesson, saying, “Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.” The juxtaposition of being prudent yet humble picked at her conscience as she waited. Had she honored Leaf this evening? Humbled herself before him? Or made matters worse?

  A soft click echoed down the hallway. A breath, one she had not realized she was holding, left her lungs in a hiccup. She would not cry. Leaf moved like a whisper down the hallway, despite his limp, and paused before her, blinking as he stared at his feet.

  “Shall we?” he asked, soft, wary. In a few strides, he opened their front door without waiting for her reply, and bowed. “Will you be warm enough, My Lady?”

  “Yes, thank you for your kind concern.”

  “Ember,” he began and stopped, looking away. A muscle pulsed along his jaw.

  She rose on the tips of her toes and brushed a kiss across his cheek. His body stiffened. Did he regret making love to her this night? She swallowed back her shame and said, “Thank you, My Lord, for keeping me company this evening. You pay me a great honor.”

  “Of course,” he said simply. He moved as if to return her kiss, but then stepped onto the upper deck with a shy smile. No, he did not regret their intimacies, she realized. He was comforting two separate pains, needing her for one while requiring distance to process the other. She stepped toward the stairs and his body visibly relaxed.

  The night swallowed their forms as they made haste through the forest and orchard, slowing only when reaching The Rows. The jagged lines of muddy ruins and crumbled fragments of buildings glowed beneath the reflective moonlight. Both she and Leaf absorbed the scene with heavy hearts as they stood in the ashes of their loved ones in mutual mourning. Calloused fingers found hers as he lifted her hand to his lips. There truly was no love quite like that of Leaf Watson and she blushed behind the hood of her cloak. His smile was wobbly, weak, but it fortified her nonetheless. It was a promise. Their Kingdom would one day know rebirth and so would their people. But, alas, it was nearing winter––a season of rest for the heart as well as of the land.

  Her hand firmly clasped with his, she followed Leaf through the rainforest until reaching Messenger Pigeon. The hatch was shut, a precaution the Guild took only when in session. Lowering her hood, she crouched by the hatch and knocked three times. She waited, but there was no answering knock. The metal hinges protested as she yanked open the metal door. If those below did not hear her knock, then surely they heard the door. Gingerly, she stepped down onto the ladder and descended into the Communications Room.

  “Director,” Skylar said, bowing his head and offering his assistance. “Welcome. The meeting shall commence shortly. We have received a delay from HQ. The Commander is running behind.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I am relieved I am not late.” She released Skylar’s hand as soon as her feet touched the earthen floor. “I bring a guest this eve.” The Son of Wind swung his head toward the opening, his skin paling ever so sli
ghtly as he watched Leaf struggle to lower while favoring his injured leg. “His Majesty is here at my behest and only to keep me company.”

  The Guild members––ten aside from her and Skylar––shuffled to their feet as their King entered the Communications Room. Leaf’s gaze touched on each face, eyes narrowing with his familiar expression of contemplation. The villagers stood before him with postures straight, arms behind their backs, and chins lifted high.

  “Your Majesty,” Skylar began with a sweeping bow. “It is an honor.”

  “The honor is all mine.” To the villagers, Leaf said, “Carry on. I do not wish to interrupt. I shall remain a shadow.” Her husband offered a kind smile as he strode to the far corner, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. She attempted to gain his attention, but he refused to look her way.

  Hesitant, Skylar returned his attention back to the Techsmiths. “Thank you for attending on short notice. We receive new orders from our Guild Master this night.” The Son of Wind angled his head toward Leaf and flinched, but continued on in a confident voice. “Stations ready.”

  Ember powered her Cranium and brought up a user interface. Command screens in different colors layered over one another. Brushing her finger through the air, she closed most layers save those necessary for the night’s task. She logged into Messenger Pigeon. “Communications ready.”

  “Comm support Lead One ready.”

  “Comm support Lead Two ready.”

  “Engineering ready.”

  Samuel, a gardener from the village, dropped his hand from a Messenger Pigeon screen, warily peeked at Leaf, and said, “Ag ready.”

  Leaf turned his head as if a speck on the wall caught his interest, his chest rising and falling in a deep breath. One by one, each member declared their station’s status. Peering over privacy screens, they faced the blue-lit hardwired screens in anticipation.

  Ember’s line opened with a pop. Then a familiar voice. “Techsmith Guild, incoming from Messenger Pigeon.”