Skin Dominion

by Tania Hutley

  He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “When you’re in your real body, I’ll gladly go back to the way we were.”

  I press my lips together, not wanting to say what I’m thinking. What happens if I never stop using this Skin? I can do a lot of good for Triton in it, especially if I win the presidency. According to Sentin, I could live forever in it.

  “Look.” Cale points at a branch that’s jutting out above our heads. He’s probably just trying to change the subject, but when I glance up, I see small red fruit hanging enticingly down, a little out of reach.

  I stop, staring upward. If I jumped, I could grab one. But I can jump higher than a regular person, and the knights behind us might wonder why I’m so athletic.

  One of the knights walks forward while I’m hesitating. “Please allow me, Madam President.” He has the voice of a young man, my brother’s age or a little older. He reaches up with one oversized arm to pluck a fruit, then offers it to me.

  “Thank you.” I lift the fruit to my nose to inhale its scent. It’s like nothing I’ve ever smelled before.

  “Begging your pardon, ma’am.” The knight inclines his head, and his tone becomes apologetic. “It was presumptuous of me to come forward and offer help before being asked, but that’s the way I was raised.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “It’s Clayton, Madam President.”

  “You’re an Old Tritoner?” I already know he is. His accent is pure Old Triton.

  “Not anymore, ma’am. I’m just a knight.”

  I fight the urge to sigh. It’s not his fault that Edward Morelle brainwashed him. “What about the mother who raised you so well, and taught you such polite manners? Are you looking forward to seeing her again when we get back?”

  “My mother died, ma’am. And I like being a knight.” He sounds a little uncertain now, like my questions are some kind of test.

  “Were you one of the soldiers who fought in Deiterra?” I ask.

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  “How long were you here?”

  “Three days, ma’am. We tangled with some Deiterran legionnaires just over there.” He nods to the burned section of ground, with the charred structure in the middle. “We wiped them out and kept advancing. Another squadron took us on over there.” He points into the distance, and I squint into the sun and make out more burned ground.

  “You killed a lot of legionnaires?”

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  “How do you feel about that?” I gaze up at his helmet, wishing it were possible for his black, armored face to show his emotions.

  He’s silent for a moment, and I can imagine his confusion over my questions. It’s not really fair of me to punish his kind act with an interrogation.

  “Did we do something wrong, ma’am?”

  “No, Clayton. I’m the one who did something wrong.” I glance at Cale. “I don’t think the Deiterran imperator will want to make peace with someone who ordered the killing of his legionnaires.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” Poor Clayton sounds stricken.

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” I give him a nod. “Thank you for the fruit.”

  He salutes and goes back to his place behind us, joining the rest of the knights.

  “Sounds like they left a trail of destruction,” says Cale.

  I nod, bringing the fruit back to my nose to inhale its scent again.

  “You’d better check with Sentin before you taste that.” Cale motions at the fruit. “Make sure it’s not toxic.”

  “I’ll talk to him now.” I quicken my pace to catch up with him, and Cale lets me go ahead. As I approach Sentin, I can’t help but feel self-conscious. Is it true he only smiles at me? And if so, what does it mean?

  The dirt path is only wide enough for two people to walk abreast, and the Deiterran legionnaires are marching in pairs, leading our party and trusting us to follow. Sentin is walking directly behind the last pair as though he’s one of them.

  Is he a legionnaire? Or a spy? Maybe he’s been living in Triton all these years so he can watch us and report what we’re doing to the imperator.

  “Hey.” I draw level with him, then slow to match my pace to his. “Is it safe to taste this?” I hold up the piece of fruit. What I really want to ask him is why the legionnaire called him sir earlier, but coming right out with the question would probably guarantee he doesn’t answer it.

  He nods. “It’s a type of plum, genetically engineered for year-round fruiting. Residual toxins from the soil will be in its flesh, but ingesting one fruit won’t cause any ill effects.”

  “So that’s a yes?” I take a bite. The taste explodes in my mouth, first a little bitter, then it becomes sweet. The red skin is almost like a membrane stretched over a mushy center. It’s so juicy that red liquid runs down my chin. “Delicious,” I mumble, wiping my chin with my free hand.

  Sentin’s lips twitch, like he’s trying not to laugh. “The juice will stain your clothes.”

  I jut my head forward to stop it dripping on my blouse, and take another bite. “There’s something hard inside,” I mumble with my mouth full.

  “That’s the seed. It’s inedible. Eat around it, then you can drop it.”

  I do what he says, then lick my fingers clean. “I can hardly believe I ate something that grew on a plant, something with a seed, which, let’s face it, sounds pretty disgusting. But it tasted amazing.”

  “You think food manufactured from chemical compounds is more palatable?”

  “Not any more.”

  My response is so enthusiastic that his lips hitch up again. “There’ll be many different foods to try here. Try not to give yourself a stomach ache.”

  Can this Skin get stomach aches? As far as I can tell, I’ve been fuelling it pretty well just by eating normally. Surely it has the same nano-technology that keeps New Tritoners from getting sick?

  “Not all of these plants are for food.” Sentin reaches out and plucks something small and brown off one of the plants. “See this nut? Once the hard outer shell is crushed, the liquid inside is bright yellow. It’s used for manufacturing dye.”

  “Crush it so I can see?”

  “The shell’s too hard to crush by hand. The process is done with machinery.”

  “I bet one of the knights can crush it.” I look back at the knights and call, “Clayton.”

  The knight who picked the fruit for me strides past Cale to catch up with me. “Aye, Madam President?”

  “Would you please crush this?”

  Obediently, Clayton squeezes the nut. When he opens his black hand, it’s covered with a yellow fluid, so bright it’s iridescent. He lowers his face to peer at it. “What’s this goo?” His tone is fascinated. Then he remembers who he’s speaking to and his head snaps up. “Sorry, Madam President.”

  “It’s a nut that makes dye,” I tell him. “Thanks for demonstrating.”

  He gives me a sharp salute, the yellow stain already drying on his hand. When he goes back to his squad, Sentin and I resume walking.

  “Is it strange for you to be back in Deiterra?” I ask Sentin. “Has it changed?”

  “So far, it’s just the same.” Sentin answers with no emotion in his voice, so I can’t tell if he thinks that’s a good thing or not. But something tells me this isn’t a line of questioning that’s likely to get him talking.

  “They don’t have any roads here?” I try instead.

  “This is a rural area. There are cities with roads, though compared to Triton, they’re more like small towns.”

  “Is Reliance a city?”

  He nods. “Reliance is the largest city in Deiterra. It’s where the imperator will host us in his palace.”

  Just ahead are several large, round structures, giant metal balls suspended off the ground. Behind them is some complex-looking machinery, and there are several pipes snaking from them that run along the ground and disappear into the fields. At the base of one metal ball, liquid is dripping, forming a large, muddy
puddle.

  “What are those?” I point to them.

  “Water storage. They pump water from beneath the ground, to irrigate the land.”

  “They get water from the dirt? Do people drink it?” I grimace, thinking of the filthy water that collects in puddles on Old Triton streets when it rains. The water supply in Triton comes from desalination plants on the coast.

  “It’s purified to remove residual toxins from the food wars. I think it tastes better than Triton’s water.”

  I’m about to express my disbelief, when I spot something. Half hidden among the plants, several fat birds are pecking at the ground. I point them out to Sentin. “What are they?”

  He cocks his head, lifting one eyebrow. “You don’t recognise chickens?”

  I’m not even sure why I’m so surprised that there are chickens walking around. After all, I’ve just seen a horse. But before the Welcon disaster, there were still one or two chicken factories in Triton, and my parents used to talk about how they’d save up to buy real eggs. I’ve always thought that was strange, because the documentaries I’ve seen have stressed how inhumane it was to keep animals locked in tiny cages, and how much better off we are now that our food is manufactured.

  “How come the chickens are running around free?” I ask.

  “Because this isn’t a poultry farm. They probably belong to the farmer.”

  Rather than answering my question, that just confuses me more. But there are lots of other things I want to know, and if I ask him to explain, Sentin’s likely to waste time telling me about the intricacies of chicken farming.

  “Everything’s so different from Triton,” I say. “Do you still have family living here?”

  “My grandparents live in Reliance. If they’re still alive, that is.”

  “You don’t know if they’re alive?” It’s strange that he managed to get information about the Deiterrans developing Skins, and not about his own family. “But you’ll get to check in on them while you’re here?”

  He shakes his head, and I have to clamp my jaw down on the burning urge to ask why not. If he doesn’t get on with them, it’s probably a subject he doesn’t want to talk about.

  “And your mother?” I ask instead.

  “She’s in Triton.” He hesitates a moment, then shoots me a sideways glance. “She’s never been to Deiterra.”

  I gape at him. “You lived here without her for ten years? From the age of four to fourteen?”

  “My father wasn’t supposed to marry a Tritoner, let alone have a child born on the wrong side of the wall. The imperator ruled that I’d be banned from Deiterra forever, unless my father sent me here for a minimum of ten years, to be raised as Deiterran by my grandparents.”

  I let out a low whistle. “That’s tough, being sent away from both your parents.”

  “If they hadn’t sent me to be raised here, I wouldn’t have been able to negotiate this peace treaty.” Though he’s making light of it, he’s walking with his shoulders slightly hunched, and there’s a tension in his body as though he’s remembering a bad time in his life. Sentin’s emotions are always buried deep and hard to sense, but I get the feeling his time in Deiterra might have been difficult.

  “Not much comfort to a four-year-old boy,” I say sympathetically. He and his father must have had a complicated relationship. I can’t imagine my father ever agreeing to send me away at such a young age.

  Sentin doesn’t answer. He looks like he’s too busy concentrating on the placement of each footstep, even though the ground’s even, and walking is easy.

  “May I ask you a question?” I ask after a while.

  He brings his gaze up to flash me a tiny glimpse of his smile. “It’s a little late to ask for permission, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think you’ll want to answer this question, and I don’t want you to go silent, or change the subject. I need an answer.”

  “Now I’m curious.” He raises his eyebrows, silently inviting me to continue.

  “Who are you loyal to?” I ask. “Deiterra or Triton?”

  “Why should I be loyal to a place?”

  Now it’s my turn to be silent, because I don’t know how to reply. It never occurred to me he wouldn’t be.

  “In Deiterra, they call me a Tritoner. In Triton, a Deiterran. They’re both right and they’re both wrong. Why should I be either?”

  I think of the way Brugan taunted him, and the Deiterran who made the obscene gesture. “Then why are you here?” I ask. “Why is this peace treaty so important to you?”

  “Because I’m shaping the future I want to live in.”

  “What exactly does that future look like?” Waiting for his answer, I catch my lip in my teeth. If he’d only tell me the truth, I’ll know whether we want the same things and if I can trust him.

  We round a bend in the path, coming out from behind some tall plants, and he nods ahead. “There’s Reliance.”

  “That’s Reliance?” I shade my eyes against the sun. Though he’s distracted me from my question, I’m determined to ask it again as many times as I need to, until he gives me an answer.

  In the distance is a low cluster of buildings, much smaller than I expected. The city almost disappears into the surrounding countryside, and some of the structures in front are just black frames. “Have those buildings been burned?” I ask.

  “They were grain silos. The knights torched them to destroy the Deiterran’s food reserves.”

  “Why?”

  “To force the imperator to surrender with the least amount of bloodshed.” His brow furrows as though he’s disappointed I’ve asked such a basic question. “Winters here are as cruel as in Triton. Without the food stores they’ve built up, many will be at risk of going hungry.”

  “Burning their food is pretty ruthless, don’t you think?” I don’t know why it disturbs me more than the thought of flat-out murdering people. Killing soldiers is bad enough, but deliberately starving the Deiterran population seems evil.

  “It was my idea.”

  I open my mouth and close it again, not sure what to say. But he can probably read my expression pretty clearly, because he adds, “If they’d surrendered, Deiterra would have become a protectorate of Triton. I would have ensured we increased capacity at our factories, and exported sufficient supplies to feed the population over winter.”

  “Oh.” I should have known he’d think of everything.

  “The grain shortage is an incentive for them to negotiate the peace treaty. They’ll ask us to pay reparations for the damage done by our knights.”

  “What else will they ask for?’

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “And what will you ask for?”

  One of the Deiterran soldiers appears in front of us, and salutes Sentin. “Sir, the cars are just ahead. We’ll take you to Reliance, then transport your knights to the barracks we’ve provided for them, just outside the city.”

  He leads us on a little further. Sure enough, a road cuts through this field, its black surface dusty. Some odd-looking machines are stopped on one side of it. Though there’s no traffic, the cars have been pulled over so far to the side, their tyres are in the dirt. They’re nothing like the driverless pods we have in Triton, with their circular shape and glass tops. These cars are at least double that size. Their shape is long and rectangular, and they have no tops, but are open to the air. In the front is a mechanism that I assume is used for manual steering.

  We stop to stare at them, and Cale moves next to Sentin, touching his arm to get his attention. “If the knights are staying somewhere else, how will they protect us?”

  Sentin blinks. “We’ll remain in communication with them,” he says in an ‘of course’ tone.

  I shake my head. “Our bands don’t work here. We already tried.”

  “We must be out of the Triton communication zone,” adds Cale.

  “The knights have inbuilt transmitters to create their own encrypted swarm network. I’ve patched into it, a
nd I can do the same for both of you. I’ll just need to change your band’s settings.”

  I bring up my control panel so Sentin can connect me to the knights’ network, then he does the same for Cale. When he strides off to address the knights, I exchange a look with Cale that tells me he’s thinking the same thing I am. Sentin has all the answers, but he’s giving us small servings of information as grudgingly as food gets dished out in a shelter.

  While the knight that’s carrying our luggage puts it into the car, Sentin orders them to stay in the barracks until we collect them. “But if we call on you, come immediately to the city.” He points to the buildings in the distance. “Once there, you know how to protect us.”

  It sounds like a threat, and I can’t help staring at the Deiterran legionnaires to see if they’re going to react. But they don’t look surprised or upset by Sentin’s order. I guess it’s what they were expecting. Maybe he even said it for their benefit.

  The knights all stay standing at attention while we get into one of the cars with some of the legionnaires. In this landscape, the Knight Skins look even larger, blacker and shinier than they usually do. They’re completely out of place here, and I can only hope they won’t get into any trouble.

  We settle ourselves in the car, and when it starts up, it surprises me by emitting a loud hum. The cars in Triton are silent, but the noise this one makes sounds like the whir of the conveyor belt in the factory I used to work in. I wonder what’s powering it?

  Sentin is sitting next to me. He bends his lanky body a little, moving his mouth close to my ear. My heart leaps. Has he decided to answer my question about the future he’s trying to create?

  He speaks so quietly that even with my enhanced hearing I can barely hear him.

  “When we meet the imperator, you must say nothing.”

  I frown, pulling away so I can shoot him a questioning look. “Why?” I mouth.

  “You’re not Deiterran.”