Exile

by S. M. Wilson

  “Make the arrangements,” Octavius said as he started to walk away.

  Silas growled, “How are we supposed to find the other Finalists?”

  Octavius turned again. “Well, I have one, another is in the lab close by. It will be the responsibility of the individual Chief Stipulators to locate their own survivors from the previous expedition.” Octavius gave Silas a little smile. “I believe the third Finalist is a Norden. I guess that’s your problem, Silas, as the Chief Stipulator for that area. But don’t worry, if you fail to produce your Finalist, you can always take his place.”

  The jolliness in Octavius’s voice was fake. His words were a threat.

  Within an instant, several of the Chief Stipulators in the chamber were on their feet and rushing to the door.

  The aides crowded around Storm. All of a sudden she had their full attention. “You’re going back to Piloria?”

  “Did you know?”

  “Reban Don is your father?”

  “Did you plan this with Octavius?”

  Storm was stunned. Her legs were shaking. She pushed down, willing her muscles to tense and steady her. “No…no,” she answered, stepping forward and pushing them away.

  She had to see Octavius. Had this always been his intention? Had he always intended to send her back?

  Was this why he’d been getting her to compile information on Piloria – had he been preparing her?

  As she paced back down the dark corridor, each step became more confident, more angry. Every muscle in her body was currently on fire.

  If she was going back to Piloria, she was going back on her terms.

  Everything happened so quickly. One minute he was minding his own business in the lab, the next minute there was a Stipulator on either side of him.

  “What?” he asked, as they grabbed his arms.

  Lorcan Field must have been alerted to their presence. He appeared behind Lincoln. “What are you doing in my lab?”

  “We’re taking Lincoln Kreft. It’s an order from the Chief Stipulators. They need him to go back to Piloria. They need the Finalists to release the viruses.”

  “What?” Lorcan looked stunned.

  But not as stunned as Lincoln was. His head started to swim. Piloria, the last place on earth he should want to go…but the place that seemed to hold the best – maybe only – chance of a cure for Arta.

  Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs again. In the blink of an eye he could see Kronar’s crushed body on the ground, Rune trapped between the jaws of the deinosuchus. He could feel the thud of his heart, reminding him that every second spent there was a second at risk.

  “Wait!” Lorcan said quickly. “Lincoln is a member of my staff. I need information from him before you take him. Leave him with me for a minute.”

  He grabbed hold of Lincoln’s arm, pulling him towards his office and kicking the door closed behind them.

  “Right,” he said quickly. “As soon as you get to Piloria, I need you to collect samples.” He started pulling collection pots from a box in the corner of the room.

  “Get me leaves. Thousands of leaves. As many as will fit in the sample case. Get me a whole plant if you can. With roots! I need roots. In fact, get more than one sample with roots – and bring some soil too so I can see what nutrients are in the soil on Piloria. It’s likely the soil is different from ours.” Now Lorcan had started talking he couldn’t seem to stop. “If you can, get Blaine to show you how to make the ointment.”

  Lincoln flinched. He’d only told Lorcan the truth about the ointment when they’d been alone. After days of questioning, his story had finally been unpicked, and he’d admitted the truth. Up until that point Lorcan hadn’t known that an exiled Stipulator had discovered the healing properties of the leaf. But he didn’t seem to have any concern that Blaine had been left abandoned on the continent – or that Lincoln was about to be sent back there without any consultation.

  “Find out if there are any other ingredients.” Lorcan was still talking; he looked up as he pulled out some smaller sample cases. “Get specimens of those too. I need everything. I need everything to recreate the ointment and produce more.”

  “You really think you can do that?” Every hair on Lincoln’s arms stood on end. The lab looked at cells. They’d just created a virus – apparently. But could they actually look at the cellular make-up of an ointment and reproduce it?

  Lincoln felt sick. He was reeling. Reeling from the prospect of having to go back to Piloria. Terrified even. But if it meant he had a second chance of getting more ointment to help Arta? Then it would be worth it. Because that’s how his brain worked. He could only think about Arta. He couldn’t think wider. He couldn’t afford to.

  The T-rex. The deinosuchus. His mouth was dry. For a few seconds, the horrors of Piloria flashed through his brain again. But he knew them now. He knew they were there. He could plan ahead. He could do this.

  “You think you can cure the plague?”

  Lorcan looked up sharply. He stopped stuffing things into a bag for Lincoln and gave him a pitying glance. He stepped over and touched Lincoln’s shoulder. “I can’t cure it.”

  “You can’t?” Something icy gripped his heart.

  Lorcan shook his head. “It is part of us – or part of most of us. That’s what I’ve discovered. At least seventy per cent of our population has it in their DNA. What triggers it? I don’t know.” He shook his head and looked a bit glazed. “I just can’t figure it out.”

  “So…nothing can help?” Lincoln couldn’t help the tremor in his voice.

  Lorcan met his gaze and smiled. “Of course something can help. The ointment. We can’t cure this, but we can treat it. We can manage it. People who die from the blistering plague die from infection or blood poisoning when the skin is broken. The ointment? It’s like a miracle. It heals the skin. It stops it blistering and breaking down. No open wounds – no infection or blood poisoning. The ointment is the closest thing to a cure we can get.”

  Lincoln’s breath came out in a gush. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. His mind was churning with information. There was so much resting on the steps he was about to take.

  Lorcan squeezed his shoulder. “Get me fresh samples. I need fresh samples. The fragments we have…they’ve deteriorated too much. They aren’t giving me the information I require. I can examine fresh samples in the lab and maybe find a way to grow some of the plants here. Get me as much as you can.” Lorcan’s eyes were gleaming.

  There was so much at stake here. So much for Lorcan, and for Lincoln.

  Lincoln stood steady. “On one condition.”

  “What?” Lorcan seemed surprised. He wasn’t used to junior members of staff questioning him.

  “I’m being sent back to release a virus for the dinosaurs. I’m not being sent back for samples.” He chose his words carefully. “I will bring you samples, as long as I have a guarantee that you won’t just treat Tarin, you’ll treat my sister Arta too.”

  He let the words hang in the air.

  Lorcan stepped closer. He was only a little taller than Lincoln, so they were virtually eye to eye. One side of his lip quirked upwards. He gave a little nod – almost in approval.

  It seemed like he was seeing his lab assistant in a new light. He held out his hand towards Lincoln. “Get me the leaves and I’ll make our girls a treatment as good as a cure.”

  For the first time in a long while, Lincoln felt a wave of hope. He reached out and clasped Lorcan’s warm hand, shaking it. He glanced towards the door where the Stipulators were waiting for him.

  “There’s something else I need to do before I go.”

  Lorcan followed his gaze. “It seems unlikely they’ll let you go anywhere. You’re their prize right now.” He tilted his head in question. “Family?”

  Lincoln’s heart clenched. Of course he wanted to see his mother and his sister right now. But every cell in his body told him he had a responsibility elsewhere.

  His voice was tight. “Yes…but not mine.
”

  Lorcan arched one eyebrow. He gave a nod of his head. “I may have another way out of here.”

  “That’s just what I needed to hear.”

  The Stipulators spilled across the atrium in groups. It seemed that once they’d exited the chamber, no one was in a hurry to leave. After collecting her thoughts, Storm was ready.

  She strode across the atrium, noticing the drop in voices with each stride. All eyes were on her, but she didn’t care. When she reached Octavius’s room she didn’t knock before she entered, she just pushed the door so hard it banged off the adjacent wall.

  Octavius blinked and looked up from his desk. It was almost as if the previous events hadn’t just occurred. He waited as the door slammed shut behind her.

  “You threw me to them. You practically volunteered me. You didn’t even ask me. Was this your plan all along?”

  Octavius stood up behind his desk. “I did not throw you to them, Storm. Your choice was the mines or Piloria – and that’s still your choice. Which would you prefer?”

  His voice was steady but she noticed something odd. He was gripping the edge of the desk. As if he was trying to stop his hands shaking.

  She couldn’t stop the anger surging through her veins. “And Reban? That test shows he’s my father – proves it conclusively? And his punishment is Piloria? Isn’t it enough that I’m being sent back, why would you suggest sending him too? The last place I want to be is anywhere with that…man.” She practically spat out the last word.

  Octavius jumped down from his desk. Sometimes he could be more agile than she anticipated. He marched over to her. “Do you know the average life expectancy at the mines, Stormchaser?”

  She shook her head.

  “Two weeks. Two weeks! That’s it. If Reban went to the mines he’d be lucky to last two weeks.” Octavius was angry. She’d never seen him quite so enraged.

  She straightened her spine. She was still trying to get her head around all this.

  Octavius looked her in the eye. “I can’t speak for Reban. I wouldn’t want to. But I have reasons. Reasons for wanting to keep you both alive. You might hate him, Stormchaser, but you’ve told me about Piloria. You’ve told me, in all its glory, how dangerous it can be. Don’t underestimate Reban Don. Don’t underestimate what you can learn about each other. And remember, you get the option to come home. He doesn’t.”

  The words she wanted to say choked in her throat. The last thing she wanted to do was learn anything about Reban Don.

  And he was about to become another Blaine.

  She could imagine how Blaine would feel about company.

  There was a knock at the door. “Enter,” shouted Octavius.

  Two Stipulators were waiting. “We’ve come for the girl,” one said.

  Octavius waved his hand. “Wait outside, you’ll get her when I’ve finished.”

  Storm felt her heart flip-flop in her chest. Already? They’d come for her already.

  Octavius marched over to the desk where Storm usually sat. He pulled over the map that she’d been working on. Then he walked over to the library and ran his fingers along the spines of the books, finally selecting one and pulling it from the shelf. He opened the book and took out a carefully folded piece of paper.

  Storm’s eyes widened as he unfolded the paper and laid it down next to her own map. It took a few seconds for her to realize what it was. The lines were carefully drawn, mapped in detail. But the coastline was unfamiliar.

  She leaned forward to get a better look. It was like part of a missing puzzle. She shook her head. “Where…where did you get this?”

  Octavius gave a conciliatory nod. “I have means. I suspect the ship won’t land at the same spot this time. They’ll want you to reach the nests as quickly as possible.”

  She frowned. “But who mapped this part of the coastline?” Could it have been Blaine?

  Octavius gave a shrug. “It takes seven days to reach Piloria. The Finalists only ever stay on land for seven days. The ship has to wait somewhere.”

  He pointed to a bay, a clear inlet along the coastline. “This area has always proved safe. The ship usually stays there while the Finalists search for food.”

  She was still confused. “But if this is closer to the nests, and safer, why didn’t they drop us here instead?”

  Octavius closed his eyes for a second and pressed his lips together. “It was the ultimate test, Storm. Only the worthy survive.”

  Her mouth fell open. “So they want people to die? It’s deliberate?”

  Octavius waved his hand a little. “Not entirely deliberate. But if fewer people return, then there are fewer people to reward.” He gave a huge sigh. “I don’t think you know just how bad things are. The extra rations for the families staying with you – that can’t last for ever. Ultimately, they’ll just stop.”

  “And the health care?” Arta was the first person that came to her mind.

  Octavius gave her a sorry look. “I’m afraid I just don’t know.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. Her mind was spinning. The events of today felt overwhelming. She tried to get things straight in her head.

  “What if…what if I went to Piloria and brought back something else? Something to help the blistering plague?”

  Octavius’s face paled. “What do you mean?”

  “Ointment – or leaves. Something to help Linc…I mean, my sister. For her skin.”

  Octavius’s brow creased. “But you’re going to Piloria to release the virus. To get us space. We need that space, Stormchaser. Now, more than ever.”

  “But no one could stop me, could they? I mean, if I go on that journey again, and release the virus, I can bring back whatever else I like?”

  The frown deepened. “I would be careful. I would be careful who you tell of your plans. The blistering plague is the current reason that the whole population can still be fed – albeit with rations. You cure that…” He held up his hands and shook his head.

  Storm tilted her chin. “So if I tell no one, I can still do what I want?”

  Octavius walked slowly over to the maps. He used glue to delicately join them, blowing on it for a few seconds before refolding the map and giving it to her. He gave her a sideways glance and a little smile. “Too much of your mother in you,” he mumbled.

  But Storm’s brain was already somewhere else. Octavius opened the door for the Stipulators. “Best not to keep them waiting.” He gave Storm’s arm a brief squeeze. “Good luck.”

  A Stipulator stood on either side of her, taking each arm and practically sweeping her along.

  It took her a few seconds to realize what Octavius had just said.

  It was like a cool breeze across her skin. Too much of her mother in her?

  A memory pinged into her brain and her feet stopped moving as she recalled Octavius’s words from the first time they’d met.

  “Because, Stormchaser Knux – winner of the dinosaur eggs, conqueror of the Trials, daughter of Dalia Knux and one of only a few people to have survived Piloria – I thought you were the owner of the most interesting eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  This was before the announcement in chambers. Before the newfangled DNA test.

  Dalia Knux.

  She’d never told Octavius who her mother was.

  How on earth did he know?

  The ship was docked ominously in the port. The first time he’d seen the Invincible he’d been impressed. Now, it just conjured up bad memories.

  Lincoln stood for a second, staring out at the vast ocean. Seven days. Seven days on an ocean filled with creatures that could kill him in one bite.

  He glanced at the rippling waves and tried not to shudder as his mind crowded with memories, including one of the megalodon that had attacked them in the middle of the ocean and eaten some of the Finalists and crew.

  There was a noise beside him as a transporter pulled up. The grey door slid open and Leif tumbled out onto the dockside. His face was angry and bruised, his lip split and sw
ollen. As he thudded onto the ground he let out a list of expletives, rolling and landing at Lincoln’s feet.

  Lincoln hesitated for a second, then held out his hand to help him up. “Leif,” he said simply.

  Leif stared up from the ground, shielding his eyes from the sun. He scowled, ignored Lincoln’s hand and pushed himself up.

  “Is this your fault? Is it your fault I’m here again?” Leif spat the words out.

  Lincoln shook his head. “Blame the Chief Stipulators. Piloria isn’t on my wish list. Well, not really.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  There was a rumble next to them and another compartment on the transporter opened. Storm stepped out. She was dressed completely in dark green, with a black backpack on her shoulder. Her face lit up when she saw Leif.

  She ran over and gave him a hug. “I’m so happy to see you.” As soon as she said them, she obviously realized the error of her words. “Not like this, of course. I just mean in general. How are you? What about your brothers and sisters? How are they?”

  Leif stepped backwards out of her embrace. “Hungry,” he answered bluntly.

  Lincoln cringed. Although Leif’s face showed signs of being swollen, the rest of his body told a different story. He was more angular. His arms thinner. He almost looked…gaunt.

  It seemed that the rations in Norden were even less than the rations in Ambulus City.

  “Hey, hey, you!”

  The voice came from behind them. They all spun around towards it. A girl was running towards them. She had tangled, tight brown curls in a mass around her face. She was lean, dressed in brown three-quarter-length trousers, thick boots and a green shirt tied at her waist. A bag was slung across her body.

  Lincoln looked at the other two in confusion, but they seemed just as bewildered as he was.

  She thudded up to them, stopping and leaning right over, hands on her knees, to catch her breath. After a second she straightened up, tossing her mass of curls back. “Talk about giving someone no notice,” she muttered sarcastically.

  “No notice for what?” Leif held up his hands and looked at her in confusion.