Fighting Gravity

by Leah Petersen

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  I may not have known how to talk to him, but I did love him, and he made me as happy as I’d ever been, more than I thought was possible.

  fg24

  A few weeks after our nineteenth birthday, he returned to our room in silence one evening, radiating tension.

  That meant there was trouble with Wildflower Hill and he was trying not to tell me about it. After all, I was the one who wouldn’t talk about it. My policy of silence on all things political had become a force all its own since the first assassinations nine months back.

  “I found the problem with the fusion experiment,” I said. He looked at me, pushing down his shoulders with an obvious effort. “It was a cracked tube. Just a hairline. You wouldn’t see it unless you were really looking for it. That explains why the results were deteriorating over time. It’s two weeks’ work lost, but at least I’ve found it now.”

  He made a noise of acknowledgement, but said nothing. After a while, I picked up the tablet I’d put down when he entered. His frustration was like a raging fire against my wall of disinterest, but I pretended to read.

  Finally he took a deep breath. “I’m leaving for Carolis in the morning.” He hesitated. “You’re welcome to come with me.”

  “I don’t think I can leave the fusion project right now,” I said. We both knew it was a diplomatic lie.

  “Oh.”

  “How long will you be gone?” I asked.

  He looked away and shrugged. “I don’t know.” His face was tense and he straightened, as if he’d made a decision, and met my eye. “They’ve taken hostages this time. A whole platoon of the additional troops we just sent in. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Until things are under control. Maybe until a workable agreement is reached.” He let out a huge sigh, like draining a pressure valve, now that the news was off his chest. “I don’t know.”

  It was more than he’d said to me about Wildflower Hill in the last year.

  “Oh.” I looked down at the tablet again, as if that was somehow a logical conclusion to the conversation. Even I could see how ridiculous it was. He was going to another planet to deal with an armed uprising, and I was going to see him off with nothing but polite noises?

  But I didn’t know what else to say. I’d spent months building a wall around the subject, between us, when it came to a part of his life that increasingly took up his attention. Now I couldn’t break the wall down. I didn’t know how to, and I didn’t want to if it meant acknowledging the thing that Wildflower Hill had become in my head.

  I was probably as frustrated with myself as he was with me. I knew he was doing his best. Even with an active and conscientious emperor, some places really did just become human dumping grounds with problems no one could fix.

  Even as Pete tried to address their concerns and deal with their, usually corrupt, merry-go-round of leaders, the situation had escalated from riots to assassinations of city officials. Now they’d taken imperial troops as hostages.

  With a groan, he gave up on me and any further conversation, and turned to leave the room.

  I said, “You can’t deal with it from here?”

  He stopped. “No. Not with lives on the line like this. The time lag’s too long. I need to be on the planet, at least. I won’t go anywhere near the trouble zones. I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course. I know.” I stood up, unable to sit still anymore.

  He was biting his lip, looking down. He lifted his head. “Jake…”

  I was such a muddle of guilt, anger, grief, and fear that my face must have been a picture. He stopped and sighed again. It was becoming a fixture in our conversations.

  “I’m not going to dinner tonight,” he said. “Want to eat something in here with me?”

  “Of course. I’ll go tell Jonathan.”

  He nodded, gave me a tired smile, and went into the bedroom. I sank back into the chair and buried my face in my hands.

  -

  He left the next morning and I really did see him off without saying another word about where he was going or why. He was gone for three months.

  I spent that time mostly hiding in either the lab or our rooms, but also trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Why I wouldn’t—why I couldn’t—talk to him about Wildflower Hill. Even thinking about it made my heart pound and my breaths come too fast.

  I’d spent years trying to forget Abenez, and I’d done a good job of it, too. But the first time I’d seen pictures of Wildflower Hill, my palms started to sweat. It was as if I was back in the slums again. The fear and despair I felt may not have been an accurate reflection of how I’d felt as a child, but they were overwhelming.

  And I knew, I knew that whatever the situation, those people were in the right. All the up-classes, all the authorities, were the cause of their problems and were the enemy. Even when I heard the reports coming in early on—when I would let Pete talk about it— even with contradictory evidence in front of me, of culpability on both sides, I couldn’t change the way I felt. When Pete talked about Wildflower Hill, I hated him and everything he represented. Even after the assassinations. Even with soldiers and negotiators taken hostage. No facts changed the way I felt.

  So I had to do something about it.

  In addition to the salary I still collected as the emperor’s appointee—and which I sent to Wildflower Hill—I had access to discretionary funds; I’d never been able to fathom what I might use them for.

  But I knew now.

  “Jonathan, I want to send more money to Wildflower Hill.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re already sending your entire salary.”

  “Yes, I know, but there’s other money I can use. I want to send that too.”

  He considered for a moment.

  “That could be…problematic.”

  “Why?”

  “You must understand, that is the emperor’s money, not yours.”

  “But I’m allowed to use some, right? So then it is mine.”

  A smile flickered at his mouth.

  “I understand it seems uncomplicated to you, but it won’t appear so to anyone on the outside. On the books this will appear as the emperor sending assistance personally to a people in rebellion. You can’t do it, sir.”

  I frowned, frustrated.

  “But I could give money to you, right?”

  “Why would you?”

  “As a gift. You’re such a great servant that I want to give you a gift on top of what Pete pays you. No one would freak out about that, would they?”

  “No,” he said with exaggerated care.

  “So I could give you money regularly and you could send it to the Wildflower Hill charities.”

  Now he frowned, eyeing me from under knotted brows.

  “I admire the sentiment, sir, but this sounds very foolish, and dangerous for you.”

  “But you’ll do it?”

  He sighed. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

  -

  When the soldiers were finally released, a few rebel ringleaders were executed, and additional field personnel were sent in to deal with the food and shelter issues underlying the whole situation, Pete returned to the palace. And still we didn’t talk about it. So I suppose the outcome was inevitable.

  fg25

  It wasn’t Pete’s fault.

  He knew that I tried to stay out of it, but, as close to the center of political power as I was, he didn’t think it was safe for me to stay completely ignorant. So about once a month, I would attend open council sessions.

  I would go when something on the agenda piqued my interest. It was one day, when one of the scheduled issues pertained to education, that the news came in.

  It was less than two weeks since Pete had returned from Wildflower Hill. The rebels had captured a company of soldiers again. And this time they didn’t bother holding prisoners.

  Pete went pale. “How many dead?”

  “Current estimates say fifty-four soldiers, Excellence
.”

  Pete nodded. “I want the families informed as quickly as possible. We’ll never beat the news to them, but I don’t want them sitting around wondering about their own any longer than necessary.”

  General Poe, seated at the table with the other counselors, nodded to one of his men and the man left the room.

  Blaine spoke up from across the table. I hadn’t noticed him there. I didn’t remember him being on Pete’s council at all. “Surely now, Excellence, it’s time to take more drastic measures.”

  Pete put his head down and rubbed his forehead for a minute. “Yes, I know.” He was quiet only a moment before he lifted his head. “General Mondejar, start the evacuations. I want them out of there yesterday. Make sure everyone knows and has an opportunity to get out if they want to. We raze the sector in three days.”

  I was the only one in the audience who gasped.

  “A voluntary evacuation, Your Excellence?” General Mondejar asked, but he didn’t sound surprised; satisfied, more like.

  Pete looked tired. “Yes. If anyone’s stupid enough to play chicken with us, then they were a problem we needed to deal with anyway. They can save us the effort. But I want everyone else out and sheltered before a single building falls. General Holmes, the plans are completed?”

  “Yes, Excellence. We can bring down the sector with no damage to the surrounding areas.”

  “Very well,” Pete said. “Get it done.”

  “No!” I shot out of my chair. “You can’t do that!”

  Every head turned in my direction. Pete met my eye, his expression weary but resolute. “Mr. Dawes, this is not the time or the place for a debate. Sit down or leave the room.”

  I pushed past the people around me.

  “How can you do that? How can you even consider it? Those are people Pete, not pieces on a game board. You can’t just move them out of your way when you get tired of them.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Dawes. This is a last resort, but it’s a well-considered and well-planned action. These people will be taken care of. We’ve tried everything else. I’m not putting any more of my people’s lives in the hands of these rebels.”

  “What else have you tried?”

  He stepped closer to me and said in a low voice, “If you’d talked to me about this even once in the past year, you’d know the answer to that. Calm down or get out, Jake. I can’t let you do this here. Go home, we’ll talk about this later.”

  I reared back. “Go home? Oh yes, I have a home to go to, don’t I? All of you,” I whirled around, “have homes to go to and you’ll have them three days from now. But women and children and old people who have never done anything wrong are going to watch theirs demolished because they’re inconveniencing you—”

  “Stop this!” Pete cut through my rant. “Provisions have been made—”

  “Provisions? Do you have the tiniest idea what their lives are like? You’re not just moving them from one place to another; you’re taking away everything they’ve made for themselves. You’re not just demolishing buildings but a community, a support system. Are you going to put old women down in one town, alone, and the children who have been caring for them—and who they’ve been providing for—in another city altogether because there are no legal ties between them? You won’t even know. They have nothing at all, and you’re going to take even that away from them.”

  “Not here, Jake,” Pete hissed. “Please. I can’t let you do this.”

  “Some of them will die, you know. The innocent and defenseless. It’s not only cocksure rebels who will stay behind. Women, children, old men will stay behind because they don’t understand, or don’t believe. You’re going to kill them.”

  “I’m sure your origins make you sympathetic to these people,” Blaine interjected, “but the Empire has larger concerns. We’ll be improving their lives. Perhaps they’ll be grateful. You can’t possibly speak for all of the unclass of the Empire.”

  Black fury washed over my vision and for a moment I couldn’t even see.

  “I understand your concerns,” Pete said, his voice calm and firm. “This is a complex situation that has been considered at length. I’m sorry that we can’t make this painless for everyone, but good men and women are dying down there and still nothing changes. I won’t let that happen anymore.”

  I could hear the logic in the words, but something inside me was eight years old and scared sick. Everything that had been building up for months finally came to a head. I rounded on him.

  “You’re no different than they are. Your precious soldiers are more important than tens of thousands of unclass vermin. You didn’t even have to think about that one, did you? You make me sick.”

  All the color rushed from his face before the slow flush of anger touched his cheekbones and his eyes. “That’s enough!” Pete said, sitting back down. He gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white but I was probably the only one who knew that was because his hands were trembling. “Mr. Dawes, you are out of order.”

  “And not just here, Your Excellence,” Blaine said, standing. He looked at me like a particularly pleased predator. “I’ve recently discovered that he’s been supporting these rebels all along.”

  Pete’s eyes found me.

  “He’s been sending them money to purchase weapons,” Blaine continued.

  The entire court took a breath. Pete went pale.

  “No!” I said. “No, that’s not why I send them anything!”

  “But you do support them behind the emperor’s back?”

  “It’s not behind his back.” I looked straight at Pete. His face was pinched, as if he was in pain. “Not behind his back. I just never said anything to him about it. That’s not the same thing.”

  Murmurs filled the room.

  “Your Excellence,” Blaine continued, “I have proof that this man has been supporting these rebels for months. He argues for them now, which would be admirable, if one was not aware of him suborning treason.”

  “No!” I yelled. But Pete was looking at me wide-eyed, with that look of horror you see in the old vids when the guy realizes his best friend just shot him.

  “You’re going to believe him? Him over me?” Fury rang in my ears. “Of course you are.” I took in the room with a sweep of my arm. “Of course. Because he’s one of you. Sure, Pete. Believe him. I’m just a filthy unclass. I’m one of them.”

  I moved closer to Pete but I saw the guards shift with me in my field of vision. That just made me angrier. That I could share his bed but I’d be the threat the moment anyone was reminded of who we all were.

  I grabbed Pete by the arms. “Don’t—”

  He shoved me off, hard.

  I didn’t even have to think about it. In fact, I didn’t think at all. The next thing I knew Pete was several steps away holding his nose, a line of crimson blood trickling between his fingers, which I saw from my position on the floor, on my stomach with my arms bent behind my back as if the guards holding me meant to break them.

  My grunt when they twisted harder was the only sound that broke the long silence.

  “Take him to a detention cell,” Pete said, looking away from me. I didn’t resist and didn’t say a word when they dragged me out of the room, too furious and too stunned by what I’d done and the look of anguish I’d seen cross Pete’s face when he gave the order.

  -

  I was shoved down the hallways and into an inter-palace transport. After a short trip I was pulled from the transport and manhandled through corridors in the South Quarter until we entered the main detention center.

  It wasn’t a very large place, as prisons go. Very few people were ever held at the palace itself. Sam, the captain of Pete’s personal guard—a giant of a man whom I’d always been little scared of—shoved me through a door. It didn’t appear to be any sort of logical admittance area. Not far down the hallway we came to a large open room that seemed to be a gathering place for off-duty guards. My stomach clench
ed.

  The next thing I was aware of was that I was lying on the floor, my cheek throbbing against the cool tile, my head ringing. There was a rumble of voices above me that gradually resolved into words.

  “…hit the emperor.”

  I was hauled off the floor and set on my feet. They kept hold of me, which was the only reason I was able to stay vertical. The room swam around me.

  Sam put his mouth so close to my ear I could feel his breath. “Stick your cock in him one time and think we’ll just let you do whatever you want, do you?” Angry murmurs rippled through the room.

  His fist slammed into my gut and I doubled over, all my breath going out in a rush.

  My arms were pulled tight behind me and, one after another, the guards took turns pummeling me until the room swam around me in a haze of pain and blood. When even the men holding me from behind couldn’t keep me upright anymore, they dropped me to the floor and took turns kicking me.

  At some point the floor started moving and I realized they were dragging me down a hallway. About halfway down, they opened a door and threw me inside.

  I lay on the floor in a whimpering heap. I was only just aware of them pulling the mattress, blanket, and pillow off the bed and throwing them into the hall. The door shut and I heard the heavy thud of a real bolt slide home. A few moments later all the lights in my cell and in the hallway went off. They did something to the climate controls and soon I was shivering. Miserable, body and soul, I drifted in and out of consciousness.

  -

  I woke later in a pink-tinged gloom. The early evening sunlight, after many twists and turns, bled into my cell through a small barred window in the door. I levered myself up with a groan and lay down on the hard platform that was all that was left of the bed, hoping it would be some improvement on the floor. It wasn’t. I lay as still as possible. Even breathing was painful.

  The next evening I was brought a tray: two pieces of meat, mostly gristle, cold and quivering in congealed fat; a pile of mushy vegetables; and a hard, stale piece of bread. I couldn’t imagine the effort it had taken to find food that awful anywhere in the palace. I ate every bite.