by Gwynn White
Stefan lowered his glass. “Is that what your people believe?”
“It’s what we know. They left us behind, refused to allow us passage. We moved to the coast and took over the abandoned agricultural buildings. It wasn’t until a celebrity visited and proclaimed our beach the best in the universe that tourists began coming back.” She frowned. “I don’t think you would find us well off, but compared to before, we have everything we need.”
“Funny how history depends on who’s telling it.” Stefan took another long sip. “My instructors always said Earth is a dying planet, that some groups are pushing to have it discontinued. That it requires too many Empire resources to protect. Even my dad thinks it’s too far and we need to consolidate our military forces, especially with the Union gaining power.”
Ember wasn’t surprised. Her father had grumbled about this a few times, and she’d heard tourists talk about it. But it was just talk. It had to be.
“And you?” she asked. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a fascinating planet with a beautiful history and culture. It needs to be preserved as a historical monument, if nothing else. I mean, most of the beings in the universe can trace their ancestry back to Earth.” He smiled and took another sip. “The land is a little harder and drier than on my planet, though. Gliesian ground is kind of soggy. You have to wear boots or a nasty fungus will get your toes. But it’s ideally placed, so the Empire favors it.”
“You don’t seem to miss it much.”
He shrugged. “It was never home to me, not really. The Empire took me to preflicker training pretty early. I don’t remember much before that—my parents talking, my mom tucking me into bed, playing with swamp bugs in the backyard. That kind of thing.”
“It’s the people you miss,” she said, thinking of Dai and Bianca. “Not necessarily the place. Didn’t your parents ever come visit you?”
He pressed his lips together, and she instantly felt bad for asking. She already knew the answer. She’d seen the way his parents looked at him, as if he were an untrained pet who had already disappointed them. It was the elder son they’d loved, the one who would ever remain perfect in their hearts. Not the struggling, grieving son who needed them most.
“Listen,” she began. “I’m sorry for what I said about your brother.”
His face darkened, but he ignored her apology and motioned to her glass. “It’s worth a try. I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’ll give you a nice buzz.”
Ember sniffed her glass, happy for the change of subject. It smelled of overripe pineapple and something salty. Satisfied, she stuck the straw inside and began to gulp it down. It wasn’t as strong as she liked, but it did have a pleasant, fruity taste. She quickly finished off the drink, then set the glass back on the desk.
Stefan’s eyes followed it. “Whoa. I’ve never seen someone chug a drink through a straw before.”
Ember scanned through the rest of the article and flipped through the last two mentions. No news. Everything was historical.
Finally she closed it and turned to Stefan. He seemed content to be with her today when yesterday he’d practically avoided her. What was his motive? If this truly was a competition, he had to have one.
“Is that all you wanted me to see?” she asked.
He sputtered. “Well, there’s a lot more to do than study history. You can play VR games on here. You just put the goggles on—”
She eyed the goggles with contempt.
“Or,” he said quickly, “I think there are a few card tables out there. Maybe a pool table or two.”
“A pool?” Ember asked, suddenly curious. She missed the feel of water on her skin. She’d even accept sitting next to the water, tasting it on the air. Mar had been right about that, at least. The lack of ocean simply felt wrong to a girl who swam whenever tourists weren’t around.
“Uh, no. It’s a game where you hit balls with long sticks. Water is too valuable a resource to waste letting people play in it. People would just steal it and bring it home.”
“Oh.” She swallowed her disappointment. “Are there musical instruments anywhere here?”
“Music,” he repeated, looking thoughtful. “As a matter of fact, yes. Follow me.”
He led her through the crowd, weaving easily around the dancers. It seemed everyone on the dance floor knew Stefan. A few of the women grinned invitingly when they saw him, but he just waved. They scowled when they noticed Ember at his side. She didn’t see Eris anywhere.
Ember froze at the sight of one of the dancing figures near the edge, a man. He was shorter than her and wore a beard that covered much of his neck, which made him stand out in the military crowd. She’d know that beard anywhere.
Ambrose.
Ember bolted toward the man and slid to a messy halt in front of him. “Ambrose! I need to talk to you.”
The man’s eyes widened, and he looked frantically around as if embarrassed his friends might hear. “Excuse me?”
She remembered where they were and leaned forward. “I need a favor. It’s urgent.”
“Do I know you?”
“Ember,” she hissed into his ear. “We’ve met several times, remember? I need you to take me to Earth, to the landing pad by the Roma village.”
“Roman? What are you talking about, girl? I can barely hear you.”
“The, uh, gypsy village. Can you take me there?”
The man’s eyes narrowed, and the woman dancing next to him finally realized they’d been interrupted. She stopped swaying and focused her gaze narrowly on Ember. “What’s going on?”
“Please,” Ember said. “It’s an emergency. I’ll give you all I have and more.”
“Wait,” the woman said, looking suspicious. “Ambrose? Who is this girl?”
“Nobody of consequence,” Ambrose said, his thick eyebrows furrowing into one long line of hair. “One of my trainees at the office had an object for me. We made a bet, you see. The prize plus my winnings. What was the amount again?”
He’d slightly emphasized the word object. He only smuggled nonliving cargo. The disappointment hung bitter in her chest. Time for plan B. “Two hundred and nineteen credits.” She programmed the payment into her wristband and held it out.
He accepted the payment without hesitation. “We also had something else involved in the deal, did we not?”
Irritation boiled in her chest. “A hen,” Ember said, thinking quickly.
Amusement touched his expression.
She jumped in again. “Four hens. All healthy.” She hoped. There was a very good chance her neighbors had eaten them already, but she had nothing else of any value to this man. “The owner’s name is Nicholae.”
“Chickens,” he muttered. “Fair enough. I suppose I can consider our transaction completed.” He offered his arm for a handshake. Ember slipped the pill bottle into his palm, and he discreetly closed his fingers around it and slipped it into his pocket.
“Thank you,” she breathed, feeling much lighter already. “Thank you so much.”
He turned back to his date. “Chickens,” he said again, and she laughed.
When Ember reached the lift, Stefan was waiting with a strange expression on his face, but he didn’t ask why Ember had left him. As the doors slid closed behind them, Ember melted against the wall in relief. She had done it.
Her father would get the medicine soon. All would be well.
Minutes later, they stood in a small room with a stage and rows of empty chairs. Instruments lay against the walls, although they looked to have been discarded for good reason. Most were broken right in half, while it appeared the others had fallen into disrepair over time.
“A recital hall,” Stefan said. “Every station has one, but music creation isn’t something the Empire emphasizes anymore. Takes too much time, too many resources.”
A familiar story. Ember eagerly scanned the available instruments, but her excitement fizzled. Several chrome pieces, an electronic piano, and a couple
of wooden instruments with strings. Not an accordion or cimbalom in sight. She stepped over to what looked like a large, squat violin propped against the stage and picked it up by the neck. “What’s this?”
Stefan looked surprised. “A guitar. An earth instrument. I thought you’d be familiar with it.”
She strummed her fingers across the strings. The sound was strange, too bright. She put it down, ready to give up the trip as fruitless. Then she spied a hand drum on the ground. She took it into her arms and thumped it with the palm of her hand, nodding in satisfaction.
“The men in our village play while the women dance,” she said. “I’ll show you the rhythm.”
He choked and sat forward in the chair he’d just lowered himself into. “Oh no. I don’t play. I’ve never touched an instrument in my life.”
Ember didn’t push the issue. Instead, she sat on the edge of the stage across from Stefan and began to accompany the song unfolding in her head. Two deep beats and a fluttering, like a bird in flight. Ember closed her eyes, allowing the tune to take form in her throat. Then she released it in the form of a hum, the words coming next.
Tree climber, tree climber, high in the sky
You are rooted in the tree you climb
Deep in the earth you love.
The life flowing beneath your hands
Pulses also through tree veins, insects, plants
Through all things living and touched by life.
Deny not the death that has spread
For just as the sky extends
So does the ground, deep-rooted and strong.
The same flame you carry within
Is the life that binds us all.
The light that binds us all.
She let the rhythm drain from her fingertips as she held the last note. Then she opened her eyes.
Stefan’s mouth hung slightly open. He cleared his throat. “Uh, that’s the song you hum when you do readings. I recognize it.”
“It’s the only song I know in Common,” she said. She held out the drum again. “Your turn.”
“Oh no. My talents lie elsewhere. Can you—can you sing it again?”
Ember had sung this song for tourists before as a child, dancing for tips as visitors watched silently from the sidelines. She had always loved its wistful tone, its painful longing, and the warmth she felt when she became one with the lyrics. But her mother had told her to stop after awhile. It had taken her years to understand why. Gadje music was harsher, more grating on the nerves, with lyrics that fell hard on the ears. Tourists wanted to move, not be moved.
The fact that Stefan felt the same magic she did sent a pleasant tingle down her arms.
She nodded and sang the song again. This time she let herself sway to the music, wishing her father were playing so she could give the song proper observance with a dance.
Stefan looked thoughtful as she finished. “The life flowing beneath your hands pulses also through . . . I can’t remember. What’s the line?”
“Tree veins, insects, plants,” Ember continued. “Through all things living and touched by life. It’s a traditional song from centuries ago. My father taught it to me to help me learn Common.”
“Reminds me of the inner light,” he said. “You don’t suppose your people knew about it even then?”
Ember stroked the hand drum, feeling the softness of the fabric stretched tight across the top. It wasn’t true animal skin but something unfamiliar. “I’m sure they did. We’ve been reading futures for centuries. Maybe even a thousand years.”
“Interesting. Scientists have come up with all kinds of theories as to where flickers came from. Did you know the one common ancestral thread is Earth? The problem is, we’ve spread ourselves so thin it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t have Earth blood in them. I’ve heard theories about flickers originating with the Mayans. Others insist it was the Native Americans.” He leaned forward. “What if it was the gypsies all along?”
“Roma,” Ember corrected.
“Sorry. Roma.” His excitement only grew. “This is so fascinating. I’d love to meet your people, Ember. I want to know more about them. And I’d really like to learn more about you.”
Ember carefully set the hand drum down and stood, a twinge of worry forming in her stomach. “I think it’s time to retire for the night.”
“Look,” Stefan said. “I need to tell you something. Just hear me out.”
“No, my turn first. The viewing of Empyrean, the drinks, and now the music. Everywhere I go, you’re there. I want to know why.”
He looked taken aback. “Must there be a reason?”
“Yes, and I think you’re hiding it from me.”
Stefan finally met her gaze, holding it firmly. “Maybe I feel bad for what happened and I’m trying to make it up to you.”
“Possibly, but I doubt it.”
He sighed. “Look, I don’t have any ulterior motives. I never did, even that first day. I didn’t ask you to read my future because I was making fun of you. It’s because when I saw you sitting there in that market, I remembered something my grandmother said a long time ago.”
Ember wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t that. She sat down across from Stefan again, folding her hands, ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach. “Go on.”
“I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” He sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over his knee. “It happened when I was a boy. I’d just been accepted to flicker pretraining. My parents threw a party for their friends and relatives the night before my departure. While they were drinking themselves under the table, my grandmother pulled me aside and said she was a flicker too but she’d never told anyone. She offered to read my future, saying it would help her feel better about me leaving.”
Ember nodded. His grandmother sounded much like her father.
“My grandmother told me I would someday meet a fierce girl with black hair and tan skin. She said that girl would refuse to conform to the Empire and would shape the universe around her instead. She also said I would help her do it.” He looked at the ground, his face coloring. “I forgot all about her prediction until I saw you in that market.”
Ember hesitated. “You know that could be anyone, right?”
“Of course. But what are the chances that you’d be a flicker? And that we both ended up right here, on the same station at the same time? The odds are almost astronomical.”
“I know you want to read something into this, and I don’t blame you, but, Stefan, I can’t stay. I have to get back to my father.”
He looked away. “So you’ve said. Many times.”
“I don’t mean to hurt you. I just have other plans for my life. Plans that involve my own people and my family. None of them involves the Empire or the military or . . . killing people. I believe the stars gave us these gifts to be used for good.” The words sounded hypocritical in her ears. Here she was, lecturing a man who had probably never killed anyone in his life. Not like her.
“What if this is why you have your gift? Think of what two flickers working together could accomplish.” His voice was pleading now. “We could change things, make the Empire more accepting of distant cultures and languages. Maybe nudge the flicker program in a different direction. You could make a huge difference here.”
He leaned toward her. Ember caught a whiff of soap from his slightly messy hair. Stefan’s chin was covered in stubble, and she wondered what it would feel like to brush her fingers along his jawline. She gripped her hands more tightly together at the thought.
“Please don’t rush off yet,” he whispered. “I don’t think this is an accident. I really believe you’re here for a reason.”
Ember sucked in a long breath, attempting to send oxygen to her light-headed brain. His closeness did something strange to her. Even worse, she really liked it.
She had to get out of this place, and soon.
She rose to her feet and tore her gaze away, breaking the connection. “Even if you�
��re right, my father is my priority right now.” I took my mother away, and now I have to take care of Dai as she would have. “I’m sorry.”
Stefan stood as well, his mouth twisted in disappointment.
There was a long silence as neither spoke.
Finally Stefan broke the silence. “Sounds like you know what you want. I won’t get in your way. If you’re ready to go, I’ll walk you back to your room.”
15
For the second night in a row, Ember didn’t sleep well. She awoke the next morning to the sound of bleating sheep. She yelled to the AI to discontinue the sounds, trying to remember whether she’d requested background noise last night. Maybe the AI was feeling particularly facetious this morning.
Ember had barely enough time to grab a quick pastry from the cafeteria before phase-two testing began. She arrived on time and seated herself with the rest of the flickers. Nearly a third of them had been eliminated at the interview round, leaving a bunch of empty seats. She was curious to know what had transpired in their interviews to knock them out of the running. Had the other officers required a demonstration of them as well?
She looked around, noting that it was almost identical to yesterday’s, except that there was only one door instead of six.
Talon stood and explained that today’s testing involved some kind of machine. Flickers would be called in one at a time. Ember did the math and sighed inwardly. They’d be here a long while again. At least it would give her time to plan her escape.
Failing the test wasn’t an option anymore, not with Kane so determined to make her a slave. The escape pod was out until she figured out how to get past its defenses. Besides, she didn’t know how to program a pod even if she did manage to eject it.
That left finding another cargo ship to hide away on. She didn’t even know where to begin. Mar had said the Empire stored their ships below the planet’s surface. But how did she get down there, and where would she find a pilot?
She caught a glimpse of Stefan near the front. Eris sat next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. The sight sent an odd pain through her. He’d cited politics as his reasoning for those particular friends, but she didn’t understand why he put up with Eris. What was so special about her? The girl acted as though she owned the station, and most everyone she met seemed to agree with the sentiment.
