Violet

by Rae Thomas

  “I understand what you’re saying, Violet, but I need you to understand me. You couldn’t live with yourself if something happened to me, but I couldn’t live with myself if I let you go alone.”

  I smile sadly. “I guess we’re at a stalemate.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Cecil says, “but as we told you, Earth is very dangerous. You’re less likely to be targeted if you’re together. Violet, David is willing to go with you; I think you should let him.”

  David smiles. “It’s settled, then.”

  I’m not so sure, but I’ll let it go for now.

  Arielle begins again, “We still have contacts within The Vox. If you’re sure you want to do this, we can get you on a Traveler tomorrow.”

  David and I look at each other, then back at Arielle. “We’re sure,” he says.

  “All right, then. You’ll both be hidden in plain sight as criminals convicted and sentenced to Earth Banishment. The V1’s who work on these ships often dock at a separate station for months between transports. It’s their assignment to keep the station in working order and to monitor the satellites and detectors for unfamiliar ships. If we’re lucky, they won’t know what either of you looks like because they’re not on Cerno most of the time.”

  It’s not that I’m not afraid; I’m terrified. But I won’t show my fear to Cecil and Arielle. I want to honor my father, and I don’t want to be seen as weak. I do not need to be cared for. I can complete this mission.

  I nod in assent. “That sounds like a plan. Let us know what we need to do.”

  Cecil interjects. “Forgetting something?”

  I don’t think so…

  “Aren’t you wondering how you’re going to get back?”

  I feel foolish. There would be no point in getting to Earth if we didn’t have a way back.

  “That’s the tricky part,” says Arielle. “There’s only one other transport scheduled that we know of; it’s exactly one week from tomorrow.”

  I remember our conversation from last night, and I suppose that David does, too, because he says, “Wait. It takes three days just to get to Amara. That means three days to get back.”

  I cut him off. “That means we have one day to find what we need.”

  Arielle shakes her head. “Yes. It is crucial that you are on that Traveler whether you’ve found what you’re looking for or not.”

  I look at Arielle. My gaze is steely. “I won’t leave until I’ve found it. That’s a promise.”

  She nods, as if expecting my response.

  Cecil stands and looks at David, then me. “Get some sleep. We’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

  * * *

  When Cecil came to wake us, it felt that my eyes had closed only moments before. He tossed a stack of clothes onto the bed and said, “Here, put these on. If you’re going to be felons, you’ve got to look the part.”

  Now that we’re on our way, I try to use the travel time to get a little more sleep. Unfortunately, it’s not working. I can’t make my mind stop long enough to fall asleep. David doesn’t seem to suffer from the same issue; he has been sleeping since we pulled out of the lot near Tara Labs.

  As I watch the landscape pass by, as I see the open spaces disappear and we make our way back into the bustling downtown of Summus, the knot in my stomach seems to tighten with every city block. It would be one thing if my life were the only one that hung in the balance, but it’s not. David is with me. There is no one on Cerno who I care about more than David, and I am allowing him to come with me to Earth even though we’ve essentially been told that we’re going to die. How many more will die because of my decisions? I look over at David and feel a rush of affection for him; he has protected me on every step of our journey. Now it’s my turn to do what’s best for him. I lean forward. It’s Cecil who’s driving.

  “I know you’ve got to be nervous, Violet, and rightly so. But just remember why you’re doing this. It’s not for selfish reasons; it’s to do your father’s memory justice, and that’ll lead you right.”

  I nod. I know Cecil’s attempting to ease my fears, but I just don’t think it’s possible, and I’m running out of time to figure out how to get David out of this.

  Cecil takes a right onto a side street. This morning while we were eating breakfast, Cecil prepped us about our route; in less than two minutes, we will arrive at the drop-off point. From there, our allies in The Vox will pick us up and take us to the waiting Traveler. The ship will not depart from Vox headquarters as it is much larger than the small transport ship that David and I stole. This is lucky for us; there is no way that either David or I could walk through Vox headquarters undetected.

  The vehicle comes to a stop, and Cecil asks, “How do I look?” He is dressed as a member of The Vox. His disguise would not fool an active member, but to a passerby this would look like an official prisoner transfer, which will hopefully be all we need.

  I try to smile, but I just can’t seem to force it. “Cecil, don’t wake David.”

  His eyes meet mine in the mirror and he says, “Violet, he’ll never forgive you.”

  I nod my head. “I know. But at least he’ll be alive.”

  He sighs and shakes his head. Then, he takes a deep breath and gets out of the vehicle. He straightens his uniform and opens my door. Here we go.

  I slide across the seat to exit through the door that Cecil has opened. Just as I plant my feet on the ground and begin to stand, someone grabs my hand. David is right behind me. I sigh and hang my head. Foiled.

  David exits the vehicle just behind me and leans forward to whisper in my ear, “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

  When I don’t respond, he leans forward again and says, “I love you, Violet. I already told you; we’re in this together.”

  The shock I feel when David says this is enough to halt me in my tracks, but I know I must keep moving. This is not the time for me to let my emotions take control of the situation. By this time, Cecil has led us to the corner of the street, and a ground transport has pulled up to the curb.

  The ground transport is a very large black vehicle capable of seating twenty or maybe thirty people—in this case, prisoners for transfer. The door slides open and out steps a very large, very imposing man. Tall and muscular with a hard face and a sharp jaw line. If I had to identify our allies in The Vox by sight, I guess I would fail because I would never think that this man could be among them. He seems like the perfect Vox soldier, head to toe. I guess that just proves that people aren’t always what they seem. He dips his head toward Cecil, and Cecil does a small salute. Then, he turns on his heel and walks back to his vehicle. He does not turn back.

  Part III:

  EARTH—Amara

  Thirteen

  Upon entering the ground transport, David and I are led to separate seats where our wrists are then cuffed to a notch on the seat in front of us. The ride to the Traveler is silent and uneventful. I decide not to look around at the other people; I don’t want to invade the sorrow that I’m sure they’re feeling. As David said once before, many people believe that a sentence of Earth Banishment is a fate worse than death.

  When the transport finally stops—there are no windows—I’m not sure where we are. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the sun when I step to the ground, and I have to squint. I cannot cover my eyes, however, because my wrists are now cuffed to the waistband of the man in front of me. When I can finally see clearly, I notice that we are on a military base of some kind. Vox members walk this way and that, some groups running in formation for morning exercises. I tense up, but try not to look suspicious. I’m already a convicted felon, though, so I don’t imagine that anyone will give me a second glance.

  We walk silently toward the towering Traveler in the distance and I cannot help but wonder why such a large ship is being used to transport this group of people. Surely there are no more than thirty of us. It may be necessary to have a ship this size if the crew has some type of maintenan
ce or mission scheduled at the station before returning to Cerno.

  This large ship differs greatly from the one that David and I “borrowed” from Vox headquarters. While our small ship was all curves and sharp edges designed for aerodynamics and speed, this behemoth has a giant hull that curves upward toward what looks like a flat top. The top is open to the air except for a small bridge that spans the width of the ship. The bridge is composed of something clear so that people walking from one end to the other could be seen from the outside.

  We enter the Traveler through a door that lowers itself from the side of the ship to become a ramp. We walk up the ramp in a single-file line, and when we have all entered the ship, the door closes. Overhead lights buzz on automatically to compensate for the light lost from the door closing. This must be some type of storage bay for smaller ships and escape pods. I see several ships being worked on by members of The Vox. While The Vox is ever-present, actual members seem to be in short supply here; this ship seems to be run with a skeleton crew.

  The man who drove our ground transport leads us through a doorway and into what he calls a Purge Room. The walls of this room are curved; there are no corners at all. In the center of the room is a group of flight seats, but rather than being arranged in the usual formation, these seats are positioned in a circle. The prisoner is meant to sit with his back facing the interior of the circle and his head facing the wall. This is very curious, though perhaps it has something to do with cabin pressure. It is impossible for one of the banished to touch another; there is enough space between the seats for arms and legs to stretch out without making contact with anyone or anything.

  We strap ourselves into our seats and our Vox ally comes around to check that we are buckled correctly. As he leans over me to check that my belt is secure, I see the name on his tag: Dorian. The patch on his sleeve is yellow; he is an officer. When he walks back toward the door, he turns around to face us for a moment and his expression looks almost sad, but still hard. I cannot stop myself from wondering what issue this man has with The Vox that would lead him to risk his own freedom to help The Third Stone. The Sententia would have no mercy on one of their own who defected; they must maintain control. If discovered, Officer Dorian would be banished for sure. Probably after being tortured publicly. He would be made an example of; there is no question.

  As he leaves, a door slides shut behind him. There is no handle or access code pad inside this room. We cannot leave until someone comes to get us. Suddenly, the lights in the room dim; we are now in near-darkness. The only light in the room emanates from the walls. Gradually, I come to realize these are not ordinary walls; they are screens. Images of Cerno flash before our eyes; somber music floods our ears.

  We see images of grasslands, beaches, lakes. We are meant to know what we will be missing. Soon, these images fade into what looks like surveillance footage and images of faces. Some of the faces I recognize as the people in this room. This footage forces these people to relive their crimes. Other faces I do not recognize. Women, children, rotation anniversary parties. This film plays like it’s a family photograph album. That’s when I begin to hear the voices. Women crying, pleading. Small children speaking, calling out to their parents. The message is clear: Look what you have done to your families. Look what you have done to your children. All you had to do was obey. I hear voices; the banished are whispering to themselves. I can see the man sitting to my left. He is hunched forward as far as our restraints will allow, openly sobbing. Someone is screaming. This is a level of cruelty that I had never imagined. The banished is not allowed to push the reality from his mind; he is forced to watch, to view the life he’ll never have and the people he’ll never see again. It’s not enough for The Sententia to banish us; they aim to break us, too.

  I find myself wondering, Did my mother see images of me? Did she feel regret that she’d never know me? I don’t know the answer, but I think probably not. My mother was far too absorbed by her cause to care about anything else. I can feel my bitterness returning. My mother sat in one of these chairs, but she did not cry. She did not mourn me or my father. She only thought about what she could do for the resistance.

  We must be nearing Earth because the projection draws to a close and a woman dressed in the familiar uniform of The Vox appears on-screen. She smiles cheerfully and begins to speak.

  “As we approach Earth, I will give you the instructions that you will need. Before exiting the transport, you will be given a pack that contains some necessities—enough food and water for three days. That is the amount of time that it should take for you to make the journey to the nearest water source on foot. Please be mindful of the timeframe. The surface is very hot, and it will not take long for dehydration to set in. You have also been provided with tools for navigation and a small weapon. Finally, within your pack you will find a cloth to be used to cover your head and face, as well as clothes that are more suitable to the climate. On Earth, the temperatures are exceedingly high during the day… and very low at night. Thank you for your attention.”

  She smiles again and then the screen turns off, once again a blank wall. I take a deep breath. There’s no turning back now.

  I remember that Cecil said that it would be safer to remain with a group. I look around to survey my companions and decide which of them would be most helpful in a survival situation. Sadly, most of them look despondent. I don’t think many of these people plan to survive. I see a few, though. Namely, a man who reminds me of Eli. He looks strong. He’d probably be an asset during a scuffle. I decide to keep him in mind.

  It is not long before Officer Dorian comes to retrieve us. He does not seem to be surprised by the tears. I suppose he must be used to it by now. We are reorganized into our single-file line and re-cuffed to our fellows. Rather than leading us back the way we came in, we are led in the opposite direction. We get into an elevator large enough to accommodate a small transport ship and Officer Dorian presses his seal into the lock while simultaneously holding a button labeled ROOF. When we reach the top, our elevator is no longer a room, but a platform. When it comes to a stop, we are standing on the flat top of the ship. Immediately we must close our eyes against the brightness. I stagger under the weight of the most extreme heat that I have ever felt. How could my father have thought this was livable? I can hardly breathe in the air here.

  Officer Dorian begins to speak. As he does, I note that there are several other members of the crew placed above us, weapons ready. “All right. This is how it works. When it is your turn, you will step forward. I will release you from your shackles and give you your pack. Please remember that your pack is your survival. Lose it, and lose your life. It’s just that simple. When your pack is secured, you will exit the aircraft here.” He motions to the edge of the roof where a large cushion-type object has been inflated. It seems that we are to slide down. I wonder why we don’t just leave using the ramp like before, but then I realize that it must not be uncommon for people to try to board the ship to escape Earth Banishment. This method ensures that no one can rush the ship; it would be impossible to climb up.

  I am not at the front of the line. I am closer to the end, but I will still jump before David. I watch as the people in front of me approach Officer Dorian; most of them are crying. Some of them plead with him. Always, Dorian simply hands them their survival pack and motions toward the slide. When it is my turn, he locks eyes with me and says, “Listen, but do not respond. There have been incidences when some of the banished have attacked their fellows to obtain their survival packs. You are small; you have probably already been targeted. Remember, there is a weapon in the pack: a small knife. It’s not of much use in a fight—it’s more for cleaning meat—but it could be the difference between life and death for you. Draw the knife from the front pocket and make sure everyone can see you holding it. As soon as you hit the ground, run. They will not be expecting it, and if they are planning to attack you, they will probably decide to wait for someone who is less prepared rather
than giving chase. There is a rock formation in your path. When you come to it, change into the clothes provided; it will not take long for sun sickness to set in, and the clothes in your pack are heat resistant. I will tell your partner that you are waiting for him there. I’ve put an extra ration of water in both of your packs, but that’s all I can do. Remember, you must return in one week. I’m being removed from this detail and that will be the last transport that I oversee. If you miss it, you will not return to Cerno.”

  I can only hope that my face displays the gratitude that I feel. Officer Dorian hands me my pack and motions to the edge of the roof. “By the way,” he says quietly, “I heard about that stunt you pulled in Summus. Using a pilot’s code to steal a transport?” He smirks. “Nicely done.”

  I smile in acknowledgement, then I walk to the edge and look over. Though the slide’s incline is gradual, I will have only moments to draw the knife from my pack. I position the straps so the pouch is on the front of my body rather than the back, and as I jump, I open the pocket.

  It seems like no time at all before I reach the bottom, but when I do, I notice that none of the people down here are alive. There are six bodies lying on the ground. Their blood soaks into the desert sand. Their packs are gone. I was the tenth person to jump, which means that three of the banished are working as a pack. They are most likely hiding, waiting for me to get off of the slide. I ready the knife, and this time I do not question whether or not I could use it. I jump off of the slide and begin to run as fast as I can. When I have gone what I feel is a good distance, I turn around to see if anyone is pursuing me. Dorian was right. Either they’ve already moved on, or they’ve decided that my pack is not worth the exertion that a chase would entail. I see no one. I point my body toward the rock formation in the distance, and I keep running.

  When I reach the rock formation, I climb to the top. There is a notch in the rock just large enough so that I can stand behind it without being seen while still surveying the ground to see if I am being approached. My thirst is overwhelming, but I remember what Dorian said. I must change into my heat-resistant clothes or I’ll die of sun sickness before we ever reach Amara. I pull the clothes from the pack; they are very strange. The fabric is off-white, almost the color of the sand, but not quite. The pants are loose-fitting everywhere but the waist, where the band clings to me tightly; this will be useful—it wouldn’t help much if my pants fell off while I was running. The shirt is also loose; the sleeve openings are wide. Though they fall all the way to my wrists, the fabric and openings allow air to pass through, cooling me by several degrees. The next piece of clothing is confusing at first. Initially, I think that it’s a blanket, but I realize that it’s a cloak with no sleeves. The arm openings are simply slits in the fabric. The cloak falls all the way to my ankles. Finally, I don the head covering. The hat is a piece of fabric sewn in the shape of my head. It’s long enough all the way around to overlap my shirt and provide sun coverage for my neck. The face piece is just another piece of the fabric that provides the option of face coverage. If I choose, I can wrap it around the lower part of my face, or allow it to hang down. I decide to wrap it. The rest of my body has been cooled considerably, and I decide to trust the fabric.