by Gwynn White
“I’m not exactly in the mood for crowds,” Ember muttered.
“Not the rec deck. It’s something you can only find on this station, and not everyone knows it’s here. Come on.”
Stefan led her down several more corridors until Ember almost felt dizzy. How he knew his way around these drab white hallways was a mystery. On the sixth turn, Stefan suddenly whirled to face her, and she plowed into him.
He smirked. “You can walk next to me, you know.”
She felt her cheeks warm. In her village, it was inappropriate for a woman to walk in front of a man. She’d learned quickly to lag behind. “I’m more comfortable here.”
“Ah. Like the view, eh?” He winked.
“You’re insufferable.”
“Well, I’m a ladies-first kind of guy. But I’ll tell you what. Let’s meet in the middle, shall we? You can walk alongside me.”
Ember shook her head, feeling foolish, and stepped beside him. “Happy?”
“Quite.”
They continued to walk for another few minutes before the hallway changed, opening up into a large room that looked to be some kind of public sitting area. A clear tube at the center carried people up and down. Soldiers and workers sat drinking and chatting at various tables. They seemed relaxed, almost content.
Obviously none of them had been torn from their homes in the middle of the night.
She caught a glimpse of a large hatch on the other side of the glass tube. She squinted at the words above it.
Emergency Only.
An escape pod.
“That’s just a break room,” Stefan said. He pointed to another corridor, but this one was lit with a strange blue light. “What I want to show you is down there.”
She gave the escape pod one last glance. If there was one, there had to be others. Of course a station would have a way to get its residents to safety in case of an attack. She’d keep an eye out for more pod stations. If she managed to eject from here somehow, maybe she could hitch a ride home on a passenger ship.
Stefan led her to the entrance of the hallway, and she blinked in surprise. It wasn’t a corridor but a small, dimly lit room with a sitting area. A huge screen spread across the opposite wall like a giant window.
“You have to sit down to get the full effect.” Stefan plopped down in a seat and motioned to the one next to him. She gave him a coy look and sat two seats away.
“On,” Stefan said with a crooked grin.
The massive screen flashed, and a scene took shape before her. It was like looking downward from the heavens. The camera stood atop an extremely tall mountain, so tall the clouds below were barely visible, and the ground not at all. Everything was green. No, an incredible array of greens, variations of the color she’d never even seen before. Several glass buildings shaped almost like castles soared high, even over the mountain peaks. Figures moved slowly in the distance, as if they had all the time in the galaxy.
“What is this?” Ember breathed.
“Empyrean,” Stefan said. “That’s where you go when you’ve served the Empire well, kind of like retirement. The emperor himself lives there, as do most of his cabinet and the richest of citizens. Every edict and law comes from Empyrean.”
So this was the Empyrean mentioned in the article. “Where is it located?”
“That’s the thing. It’s a closely guarded secret, as you can imagine. Security issues galore. Very few flickers have made a big enough impact to earn a spot there.”
Ember couldn’t tear her eyes away. It was so beautiful, so dreamlike. “You want to live there.” Even she wanted to go, to enter those beautiful buildings and look down upon a world of green from the sky.
He paused. “Eventually. More than that, I want to earn a place there for my parents. A soldier who serves well enough can bring his whole family. And there’s nothing my parents would like more than to live in the highest society in the universe.”
She gave him a sideways look. What son sacrificed so much to help his parents reach a higher social class? Surely it went far deeper than love for his family. It had to be a personal challenge, something related to that vision she’d seen of him.
Ember tried to recall the details. The dead brother, the father whose dreams had just imploded. His lack of confidence in his younger son.
“Your brother was a flicker too,” Ember said slowly. “So he served the Empire?”
Stefan’s smile faded, and he looked at his hands. “He did, and flawlessly. Everyone thought Adam would make it to Empyrean someday, maybe even serve the emperor as a special assistant. But the Union had other plans. They sent assassins to target our flickers. Took out half our flicker force in a single night.” His voice went hard at the end.
The Union again. That old man hadn’t seemed like the brutal type, but then, she knew very little about them. The group must have been formidable, indeed, to threaten the Empire itself. “So he died in battle, and your parents thought all was lost. They forgot that their younger son had the same potential.”
“I’ll never be the flicker he was, and they know it.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s change the subject.”
Ember turned back to the screen. “So you grew up on stations? Was that because of your father’s work?”
“Nah. I was born on Gliesian System TX-31, but they took me from my parents when I tested positive for flicker ability at age sixty-two Gliesian months. They like to control how flicker children are raised. Too much potential for problems, as you can imagine. I’ve been training for this trip my entire life. Most of us have.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “That puts you at a serious disadvantage.”
“It would if I intended to stay.”
He pressed his lips together in disapproval. “You aren’t curious at all? You don’t want to see how far you can go?”
“Nope, not really.”
They sat there in silence, watching the screen for a long moment.
Stefan finally spoke. “Thanks for following me down here. Sometimes it’s nice to get away from the others. They can get pretty draining after awhile.”
She turned to face him. “But they’re your friends.”
“On the surface. Here, we’re all competitors. It’s just nice to talk to someone who isn’t plotting how to beat me, you know? Actually, I think you know more about me than any of them, and I’ve only known you two days.” He chuckled. “So what about you? When you get home, what do you plan to do? Assuming you can get that medicine to your dad.”
She would live her life. Tell futures, help Bianca deliver her baby, help Dai recover, and try to forget what the Empire was doing with the others who held her gift. It was a simple life, but it was all she’d ever known. How could she explain that to a gadjo, especially a man raised by the Empire to become a weapon someday? He’d never understand.
“Whoa, slow down there. I can’t keep up.” Stefan chuckled.
Ember looked around the room, realizing how poorly lit it was in here. Had she really allowed herself to sit and talk with this man alone? Her father would be horrified at how far she’d fallen in two days.
She rose to her feet, smoothing the skirt that wasn’t there. “Thanks for the tour. It’s been . . . enlightening.”
He stood, looking thoughtful. “You know, maybe you can mail that medicine to your dad instead of trying to escape. At least consider it.”
Her wristband began to vibrate. It was nearly time for dinner.
Just consider it. Bianca’s last words to her seemed like centuries ago. Dear Bianca. What did she think had happened to Ember? Was her friend caring for Dai in her absence, or was Mimi keeping her so busy she didn’t even know Ember was gone? Had anyone thought to care for Dai, or did they rejoice at the thought of ridding themselves of the outsider at last?
You will not die, she told him inwardly. Not yet, not now. I will find a way to get back to you, and we’ll move on together like you wanted.
“I’ll walk you to the cafeteria,” Stefan said, then hesi
tated. “Look, there’s one last thing you should know. I’m going to give you a little more space once testing starts. I feel responsible for you being here, but, well, there are a lot of politics with this group. Everyone wants to graduate, so they’ll do whatever it takes to beat out the others.” He glanced at the screen, then down at the floor. “I come from a high family. That means the testers watch me more closely than most. If they think I’m helping you, it’ll come back to hurt us both.”
She absorbed his words. He hadn’t mentioned Eris’s name, but he wasn’t fooling Ember as to his plea for space—he had a girlfriend, friends, and a plan. He didn’t want Ember to get in the way.
It shouldn’t bother her. She didn’t care who he dated, because she’d be gone soon.
The vision was wrong. She would choose who she loved, and this man wasn’t it.
“Then may the stars give you everything you desire.” She turned and strode down the hallway, leaving him standing in the theater alone.
10
The cafeteria was one of the biggest rooms she’d ever seen in her life and was filled with ridiculously long tables. Stefan waved good-bye and went to join his friends again. Ember filled her tray with the safest-looking food she could find. It smelled like some kind of mashed vegetable. She skipped over the meat and grabbed a water packet, then looked for an empty table.
A figure pulled up from a run at the doorway, breathing hard. Mar. The girl hesitated, then carefully tiptoed inside as if the doorway was some kind of dangerous, invisible border. When she saw Ember, her eyes narrowed.
Stars. She’d forgotten entirely about Mar.
Mar retrieved her tray, made her way to Ember, and slapped the metal tray down on the table. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“What happened to you? One second you were behind me, and then you disappeared. I thought you were lost in the city. I searched for another hour and a half.”
Ember flinched. “Sorry. The pharmacist asked me to do a reading on her husband.”
“That’s it? What kind of excuse is that?”
“He was dying.”
“We’re all dying eventually. That’s no excuse to blow off your friends.” She plopped herself down on the bench across from Ember, scowling.
It was exactly what Bianca would have said. She was liking this girl more all the time. “You’re right, it was very rude of me. I apologize.”
“Well, next time tell me what’s going on. I was really looking forward to that VR game.” She frowned at the yellow mush on Ember’s tray. “No meat, huh? I didn’t take you for a vegetarian.”
“I couldn’t tell what it was.”
She grimaced. “I know what you mean. But trust me, sometimes it’s better not to know.”
“It’s not that.”
Mar cocked her head. “Ah. It’s a gypsy thing?”
“Roma, and yes. We don’t eat meat that’s . . .” She wasn’t sure how to describe it. “Unclean.”
Mar took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. “I can respect that. What Earth animals are unclean?”
“Cats. Dogs, sometimes. Any animal that, you know, licks themselves.”
“Well, I can guarantee none of this meat is a domesticated pet. We don’t have any of those here. Most likely lamb, pennitt, or beef-flavored synthetic material. Sometimes they serve real chicken here, though. I hear the station has a good-sized poultry wing.”
“Chickens are okay.” She swallowed at the thought of her hens, probably starving as well. Or being eaten by her neighbors in her absence.
Mar shrugged and stabbed at her “synthetic material.” “I know the Empire doesn’t like differences, but I do. I think it’s fascinating how people live. And my people have their own quirks.” She looked up as if realizing Ember hadn’t touched her food. “Do you need a fork?”
Ember shook her head. She’d grown too comfortable here with the gadje, and her upbringing was feeling more strange the longer she stayed. She’d obeyed the Empire’s strict rules so far. She’d abandoned her beloved skirt and put on the horrid, overexposing trousers. But this was one thing she couldn’t compromise on. Eating with utensils other gadje had used, placing them in her mouth, inside her body? She couldn’t go that far.
She gave her tray a shake. The vegetable blob jiggled. She tilted it sideways, but the mass didn’t slide at all. With a sigh, she scooped a bit into her hand and brought to her mouth.
Ugh. Too sweet. She forced the bite down and made a face.
As she ate, she recognized several of the languages being whispered around her, including Carbona and the more familiar Naravit’z, both languages her father had taught her. Although whenever a soldier walked by, they switched to Common. Most wore mint-green uniforms. Station workers, probably.
But something seemed strange about all this, something Ember couldn’t put her finger on. It took her several minutes of watching the crowd before she realized what it was.
No children.
Her community was filled with them. They played and danced in the streets, shouting and screaming. Even the adults were loud. Each couple had several children, some as many as ten or twelve. Ember’s only-child status was unusual, but her mother had had a medical condition that had prevented other births. The absence here felt like a gaping hole. Were there really no children on this station anywhere? What did parents do with their offspring, send them away or leave them behind?
Maybe some of these people didn’t have children at all. Perhaps they were unmarried, alone. Like her. Maybe that was why they were here.
Everything about this place was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Gone were the chickens underfoot, the lines filled with drying laundry, the smoke. Roma traveling about in their long skirts and braids. Her neighbors’ nods as they walked by, however untrusting they were of Ember. Mothers calling for their children. Ember swallowed back the emotion closing her throat and swore she would find a way off this station once and for all.
“Look at your gypsy girl, Stefan,” Eris called out from the other table, where the two sat side by side. “I told you they eat like dogs.”
Stefan eyed Ember’s fingers in confusion, but he recovered quickly. “And some people eat with sticks. Most of the people on my home planet drink their food from a bowl.”
“And then there’s ocean girl over there,” Eris continued, completely ignoring Stefan’s comment, “who can’t handle walking into a room.” She stood and wrapped her arms around herself. “Oh no,” she said a mocking voice, “I have to pass through a doorway. Whatever shall I do?” She pretended to stick her toe over an invisible line, slowly and with agonizing care.
The others at their table laughed, except for Stefan, whose eyes blazed with disapproval. Mar simply poked at her food, but her cheeks had gone a deep crimson.
“Neither one will last long here,” Eris said as she seated herself again. “I just don’t understand why we had to travel four days round-trip just to investigate a tip that turned out to be a filthy gypsy girl. And a door-fearing Olvenack? Please. We haven’t had an Olvenack flicker for a reason. Sometimes I wonder who makes these decisions.” She snickered and tossed her hair.
“Eris,” Stefan said in a warning tone.
Ember gripped the fabric where her skirt should be. Commander Kane had been investigating a tip? But who had told him? Dai was the only one who knew about her gift, and he would never have spread that around. She hadn’t even known she was a flicker herself until the shuttle.
“Earth is highly overrated,” Eris continued. “I can see why humans left it behind. All that remains are the leftovers—the lazy, filthy trash nobody else wants. I don’t get why they’re even part of the Empire.”
“Eris,” Stefan snapped. “That’s enough.”
Ember felt anger hit her square in the stomach. She’d heard all these things before, but she wasn’t in the mood today. She turned to face Eris and shot her a smoldering look. “Your great-grandparents gave us an entire planet so they could go live o
n a floating chunk of metal, Eris. Now we charge them to come back and visit the beach that used to be theirs. So who are the smart ones?”
“Your beach isn’t that great,” she snapped back, although her cheeks were pink now. “The water is too murky.”
“Funny, you seemed perfectly fine with it the other day. I bet you didn’t go in the water once. Do you even know how to swim?”
Eris’s blush was a furious red now. She placed a dainty forkful of food into her mouth and tossed her hair if she hadn’t heard. Stefan quickly changed the subject.
Ember turned back to her food, feeling her anger drain away. She didn’t care what Eris said or did. Or Stefan either, for that matter. She finished off her meal and cleaned her hands on a napkin. Mar didn’t say a word. She simply continued to pick at her food.
“Don’t let Eris get to you,” Ember finally said. “I’ve seen worse.”
Mar sighed. “But she’s right. There’s a reason my people don’t pass testing, let alone training. They see us differently.” She looked up. “On my planet, we don’t have doors. They’re dangerous.”
“How’s that?”
“Our air is different. It reacts strangely to carbon dioxide, sometimes in poisonous ways. If a room is closed off with a person inside for too long, that person will die. And if you step inside right after the door opens—” She shuddered. “Hence, no doors. We don’t even use walls, really. Just screens. Our homes are as open to the outdoors as you can get. I know it looks funny to everyone else, but I’ve just learned to be careful when I’m crossing rooms.”
Ember was nodding. It made complete sense.
“Plus, I think the officers don’t like us much,” Mar whispered. “The last two Olvenacks, a twin sister and brother, sent word back to their family last year that they’d failed testing and would be sent home. But they never made it. It’s like they just disappeared.”
Stars. A tightness clutched at Ember’s gut. “Is that what happens to those who fail?”
“Seems to be. The Empire makes it sound like they’re too ashamed to return, but I’ve never heard of a failed flicker coming home. Ever.” Her eyes bored into Ember’s. “I’m terrified I’ll end up just like them.”
