by R F Hurteau
When they passed the small room where the twins were, Felix could hear them stirring. He grimaced as Sebastian placed a wet hand over his mouth. Why is it wet? he wondered. On second thought, I don’t want to know.
“Shh!” Sebastian scolded Felix, who hadn’t been talking. “Flix wake babies!”
“Sorry!” whispered Felix. “Let’s go see your mama!”
When they stepped into the workshop, where several small ships were docked, the retractable ceiling was wide open, early morning sunshine pouring in. A large, sleek looking ship with an open cockpit and the Pravacordian seal painted on its side sat at one of the outer docking stations, propellers still spinning.
Sebastian was looking around for his mother before he noticed the vessel. He squealed in delight, pushing both chubby palms against Felix’s face, one finger making its way up his right nostril as the toddler squirmed to get down.
“Nimbus!” he yelped at Felix. “Down!”
Felix placed him gently on the floor and Sebastian made a beeline for his mother, who scooped him up and began showing him the craft, pointing out features as Ambrose and Tobias spoke with the pilot.
“Armored plating, hybrid cyclical condensers...!” Felix could hear her saying. “It’s the fastest non-military ship to date! Super luxurious, too. What a beauty. An absolute gem.”
Felix smiled. It didn’t look like anything more than an airplane to him, something he remembered seeing pictures of in history books back in Sanctuary. Aside from being a bit more flashy than those he could recall, he could not tell much about it.
When they’d first arrived here, he’d made something of an effort to learn, hoping to make himself useful to Ambrose in exchange for his hospitality. A small way to thank him for facilitating their escape.
But the mechanical and scientific minds of Ambrose, Tobias and Penelope were not equipped to explain things in a way that Felix could understand. They spoke too fast, rattling off strange terms and jargon that he could not even be certain weren’t just made up words in the first place.
Uncertain what to do next, he headed for Ambrose. He thought the man speaking to him looked vaguely familiar but couldn’t be sure from the back. He wore a purple silk waistcoat over a ruffled shirt, and white-and-purple striped trousers, as if to affirm that he was someone not to be ignored. A pencil-thin mustache curled into little points which bobbed with pride as he spoke, and he held a tall, narrow-brimmed hat under one thin arm.
Felix had reached the group and was about to introduce himself, but when he saw the man’s face, he immediately regretted it. It wasThoris Wilks, one of the committee members the Ministry had assigned to decide “what to do” with Felix and Willow.
“Ah, Mr. Felix, so good to see you again.”
Wilks’ tone was friendly, but the words were drawn out in a formal, elaborate way. Felix could not remember if he’d ever listened to the man speak before, as he did not pay much attention to which committee member said what at the meetings. They were all the same to him. “I’ve always heard Ambrose’s workshop is top notch, but I’d never gotten around to coming to see for myself. I tend to stick close to the capital, you know.” He looked back and forth between Felix, Ambrose and Tobias with an air of importance. “In case I’m needed. Anyway, I thought I’d pop by and have him take a look at my rudder assembly. Been sticking a bit. Afterwards I’d be more than happy to take you to your meeting at the Ministry.”
“Well, actually,” began Ambrose, gesturing around the shop, “I do have several other ships I’m working on right now, but I can get to yours in a day or two, if you leave her—”
“Nonsense, nonsense. I’m certain your other customers would be understanding of a short delay. She’s brand new, you know, just picked her up yesterday and I’m sorry to say I didn’t even notice the problem until last night...haven’t even named her yet, and already she’s causing trouble!” He chuckled. “So you can imagine my distress, and my desire to get it taken care of right away. The life of a Minister is a demanding one, as I’m sure you’re aware. I can’t be flying to and fro to important meetings listing to one side, or wobbling back and forth like a drunken fool. Of course, if you’re too busy, there are plenty of other mechanics around that I’m certain could make the time for me.”
Felix eyed Wilks, his suspicions now confirmed. There it was. That condescending, manipulative tone that seemed to be part of the job description to work in government. Surely Ambrose wouldn’t fall for...but he glanced over and saw that Ambrose’s eyes were full of yearning as he held out a hand as if to touch Wilks’ ship, which sat quiet and majestic overhead. “Well, I suppose they might not mind a slight delay. It’s only a quick rudder job, after all...”
“Splendid! Now, which of you wonderful ladies would be a dear and make us a nice cup of tea while we wait?”
Felix turned in the direction that Wilks had turned. The Ministry official was gazing expectantly back and forth between Willow, who had appeared in the entrance holding two infants, and Penelope, who had a very “Don’t look at me” expression on her face.
“Come on,” said Felix, not bothering to hide his annoyance, “I’ll fix your tea.”
“Quite right, quite right!”
Mr. Wilks wore an oblivious smile, following Felix out of the workshop and into the house.
Entering the cluttered living space, Wilks looked around. “Oh my. It certainly is, uh—cozy.”
Felix ignored him, moving to the hutch and selecting a few mismatched cups. Wilks cleared an armchair and sat gingerly, placing his hat atop a nearby upturned crate. He jumped as Sebastian came barreling in, throwing the door open, slamming the hutch just as his grandfather had. Felix caught the sugar bowl inches from the ground, managing to save most of its contents. Willow followed the toddler in and sat down on the overstuffed sofa across from Mr. Wilks, who began speaking almost at once.
“Now, I really shouldn’t divulge this,” Mr. Wilks said, pausing to take the teacup that Felix held out to him. “Delightful, thank you. What was I saying? Ah yes, of course. The committee is making considerable strides in your case, considerable strides.”
“So, you’ve decided what will happen to Felix and me, then?” Willow asked, hopeful.
“What? Oh, no, no, I’m afraid it will be quite some time yet.” He gave a chuckle, shaking his head. “Politicians don’t do anything hastily. We’d all be out of a job!”
Felix cocked an eyebrow. “So, what strides have you made?”
“Oh, well, I believe that after this meeting, it will all become quite clear.”
Felix grumbled something under his breath, but Mr. Wilks either didn’t hear or decided to ignore it. He leaned forward, peering at the two infants who were once again asleep in Willow’s arms. “I will say this for you Elves, you certainly do have adorable children. I can’t get over the ears.”
He stretched out his hand, and Sebastian, who had been attempting to reach Wilks’ hat, inserted himself between him and Willow. Placing one hand on his hip, he pointed a pudgy, accusing finger at the man’s face. “Flix babies!” He shook his little head. “No touchy!”
“He’s very protective of them,” Willow apologized, but Mr. Wilks was still smiling.
“Not at all, my dear. I’m happy to see everyone getting along so swimmingly!”
Felix took Ripley from Willow, trading the baby for a cup of tea before taking a seat beside her. The three sat in awkward silence for several long moments. Sebastian, satisfied that the babies were in no immediate danger, had toddled over to the table, where he was now attempting to build a fort out of chairs, books, and several throw pillows.
“That must be Penelope’s son, I presume?”
“Yes,” said Willow, surprised. “How do you know Penelope?”
“Oh, we all know Penelope, I’m afraid.” Wilks gave a drawn out, sympathetic nod. “She and her husband, Neal, were quite popular in the Grand Derby for years, an excellent team, top notch! But when the Derby was held during her pregna
ncy, Neal decided that he would fly with Ambrose instead that year. We do what we can to promote safety, but the Derby is inherently risky, you understand.”
His voice dropped to just above a whisper as his eyes darted to Sebastian, who didn’t seem to be aware of the conversation. “There was a terrible accident. Ambrose walked away, but Neal was killed instantly.” He sat back and gave a regretful sigh. “No one blames Ambrose. Except Ambrose, of course. He’s never forgiven himself. The death of his son-in-law weighs heavy on him, even now. Hasn’t entered the Derby again since.”
There was another long silence as Felix pondered this new information. He had often wondered what had become of Penelope’s husband, and why she lived here with her father. She had never shared the story, and Felix had decided it would be rude to pry. In fact, she had mentioned Neal’s name only once, when giving Felix some of his old clothes to try. Felix’s hand brushed the worn knee of his jeans, thoughts of what had befallen their previous owner now swimming in his head. It felt weird, hearing about all this from someone else. If Penelope had wanted him to know, she’d have told him.
Felix decided to change the subject.
“So, tell us about this Grand Derby,” he settled on when nothing else came to mind.
“It’s quite exciting!” Wilks set down his cup. “A rich part of our history. As you know, after the Sequencing, many new nation-states sprung up from the ashes. Each seemed hell-bent on asserting their dominance and superiority over their neighbors. At first there was a lot of tension, even hostility. Humanity had survived a devastating plague only to nearly destroy each other not long after.
“Wishing to put an end to the needless bloodshed, the three major powers—Pravacordia, Nequiem, and Culei—signed a peace treaty. They celebrated this turning point with a Grand Derby, designed to foster teamwork among nations and showcase each of their particular strengths. A team consists of six contestants, two from every participating nation. The derby is divided into three legs, each one featuring a nation’s specialty: Nequiem, over land; Culei, nautical; Pravacordia, aeronautics. Anyone can participate, no matter their station, and the vast array of personal craft is truly a fantastic sight. I do so hope you’ll be attending this year.”
“I guess it depends if the Ministry will let us or not,” Felix said. “If they haven’t exiled us to some deserted island or something.”
“Good gracious, we aren’t savages!” declared Wilks, puffing his chest out. “You aren’t facing exile. It’s more a simple matter of politics, Mr. Felix. That is, if politics can ever be considered simple. You see, our last interactions with your people resulted in the devastation of our planet. Knowing you are here, living among us, has put all of us in quite a precarious position. Not just Pravacordia, mind you. Nequiem and Culei both wish to, ahem, meet with you, and both are deman—ah, requesting, that you be turned over to them for questioning. At Ambrose’s insistence, the Ministry has decided not to allow an extradition, but these things must be handled with the utmost delicacy. There’s really no precedent for a situation like this. You do understand, I hope.”
Felix felt himself stiffen, and Willow put a hand on his knee, wordlessly urging him to stay calm.
“We aren’t criminals.” Felix struggled to keep his voice level. It wouldn’t do to make a scene. “And they aren’t our people. Willow and I, we were born in Sanctuary. My father was Human, for crying out loud! We didn’t do anything to any of you. We only want to be left alone and allowed to raise our family in peace.”
“Indeed, indeed. But you can, of course, understand our position—”
“I hate them just as much as you do!” shouted Felix, unable to stay sitting any longer. “I hate the Therans! What they did here was wrong. How they treated us in Sanctuary was wrong. How they abandoned their own kin for having the audacity to love a Human was wrong. But that’s not who we are. We aren’t like them. All we’re asking for is a chance to prove it.”
He closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. “You have to believe that.”
Wilks studied him, saying nothing. When at last he opened his mouth to speak the door to the workshop swung wide, and Penelope and Tobias stepped into the room.
“We’ve found the problem,” said Penelope, “but it will take at least a few hours for us to fix her up.”
Wilks stood, pulling on his waistcoat to straighten it and picked up his hat. “Very good. I shan’t take up any more of your time, then. I think I could do with a walk.”
He turned to Felix and Willow, offering each of them a nod. “I shall be back in time to bring you to the meeting this afternoon. If my ship isn’t ready by then, perhaps Ambrose could be persuaded to escort us in Pluto.”
“Kind of demanding,” Penelope noted as the front door closed behind him. “And a bit prissy.”
“Eh.” Felix shrugged as he stared out the window at Wilks’ receding form. “As far as the Ministry goes, he’s not the worst.”
He turned back to Penelope. “Come on, show us what’s so special about this fancy ship of his.”
Two
Uneasy Lies the Head
“IF you aren’t going to do it right, get out of the way and let someone else take care of it!”
“I am doing it right. Back off. This isn’t even your job!”
“Well by the looks of it, it shouldn’t be your job, either!”
The bickering reminded Edwin of their old Tapestry meetings. Strange how, looking back now, those days seemed almost like simpler times.
Following the hasty departure of the Therans from the city, New Sanctuary had faced the formidable task of not just restructuring but undertaking a complete overhaul of something resembling a governmental body. Edwin, who had been the most recognizable Human face in Sigil, had been thrust into a position far more demanding than his previous job as liaison to the Elder Council. Now he found himself needing to be available at all hours, diffusing tensions and dealing with minor crises that, thankfully, seemed to be coming at longer intervals as time went on.
Sylvia stepped up beside him, surveying the room with appraising eyes.
“How are we progressing?”
“Not too bad, I’d say. There’ve been a few hiccups, but we seem to have everything running smoothly now.” Edwin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. “Well, smoother, at least.”
“That’s it, step aside. I can’t bear to watch this train wreck any longer,” Nelson commanded, giving the man he’d been harassing a little shove.
Thanks to his ambitious nature, Nelson had a good working knowledge of many of Sigil’s critical departments and had been instrumental in keeping everything running in the tumultuous days and weeks after they’d taken the city.
“Looks like Nelson is trying to micromanage again,” Sylvia observed with a chuckle. Her laugh had a musical, lilting quality to it. It was a refreshing sound, one that Edwin had missed. There had not been much cause for laughter as of late.
The chaos after the Elves’ disappearance had had far reaching consequences. Looting and violence were rampant, and many innocent lives had been lost. It had taken months to restore an orderly system for distributing supplies that everyone could agree upon. Although no more Elves meant two thousand fewer mouths to feed, food was still scarce. Edwin’s team was working day and night to increase production.
Still, together they had managed to stabilize the vital systems, and that was something.
Edwin studied Sylvia out of the corner of his eye. Despite the many demands of her new position on the Council, she was adapting to circumstances quite well.
She handed him a stack of papers. “Here are the reports you requested.”
“Thanks,” he replied dryly, riffling through them. He might have requested them, but looking over their no doubt dire predictions did not sound very appealing. “How are your patients doing?”
“Oh.” The light in her eyes dimmed. “As well as can be expected. I mean, the technology works, but the more exte
nsive the damage, the longer it takes. We’ve been very successful in treating a number of injuries so far. Just yesterday we released the last of the injured Geothermal workers.”
Sylvia frowned, her nose crinkling, a trait Edwin found quite endearing. “It’s so strange. I still don’t know why I was assigned to head up the rehabilitation project. I can barely understand the technology when Ben tries to explain it to me, and he’s tried more than once, trust me.”
“Well, it’s not so hard to understand.” Seeing her face fall, he added, “Why you were chosen, I mean. For one, you’re a natural leader. People like you, so they listen to you. A leader doesn’t have to know all the terminology. They just have to instruct the people who do. And you inspire those around you. When you have someone hurting, like those poor people we dragged out of Geo, the last thing they want to do is get shoved into a dark, scary pod with no clue what’s going on. They need someone to tell them it’s going to be okay, to put them at ease. Someone they can trust.”
She raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “And that’s me?”
Edwin nodded. “Exactly.” He looked at her with concern. “Is it too much? Being on the Council on top of everything else?”
Sylvia shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s very rewarding work. Just keeps me busy, that’s all. But maybe busy isn’t so bad...”
She turned back to see Nelson haranguing a new victim, someone working on the temperature controls. “Well sure, you’re doing fine,” he was saying, his tone scathing. “If you’re trying to boil everyone in D4 alive! Have you even looked at this humidity gauge?”
“I wonder what I’ll do once we’ve finished treating all the injured?” Sylvia pondered aloud.
“I don’t think you’ll be sitting on your hands, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Sylvia rolled her eyes and gave a dramatic sigh. “It’s not like I was expecting an early retirement.”
