by Naomi Foyle
Klor squeezed her shoulder. ‘Does that answer your question, little one?’
Her elbow was on the armrest of his chair and between the screendesk and his furry chest she could see his lap. Between his legs his soft Gaia plough was drooping on its wrinkly seed bag. Sheba’s Code had come from there – well, half of it, and the other half from Nimma’s egg, which was hidden in a nest deep inside her Gaia garden. You weren’t allowed to touch adults’ Gaia ploughs or Gaia gardens. They were like expensive microscopes or Owleons: important, delicate things that only other adults could play with.
Her eyes strayed over Klor’s black stump-sling and mechatronic leg. She wasn’t allowed to touch the leg either, because he always said little fingers could get caught in the complicated joints. And of course she’d never touched his stump, but once at home, when he was lying on the sofa with the prosthesis recharging in the corner, she had seen it. The stump was bumpy and scarred. Even though Klor never complained she knew that it hurt sometimes still. On those days his face looked strained and he didn’t always answer you right away. Other times the straps on the sling made his skin chafe and Nimma had to put lotion on his thigh. Klor also had to go to the doctor in New Bangor once a year to have his gait and circulation checked and his prosthesis adjusted. It wasn’t right, Astra thought, that he spent his life making other people healthy but no one could fix him.
‘If I have my shot,’ she slowly asked, ‘will I be able to discover how to make your leg regrow?’
Klor patted her fingers. ‘Oh my sun-drenched garden, that’s a kind thought, fledgling. But mammalian limb regeneration simply isn’t possible. Even lizards do it very badly.’ Laughing, he tweaked her nose. ‘My word, you would have to be a genius to learn how to regrow my leg.’
He tickled her tummy and she laughed too. Everything was as clear as rainwater now: she was going to be a genius and make a world breakthrough in limb regeneration. When she won a medal she would give it to Klor, because he was her inspiration. Then she might tell him she’d never had her Security shot, or she might keep it secret forever.
‘Happy?’ he grinned. ‘Good. Now, where’s Tabby? Hokma said you’d broken him again.’
Astra opened her mouth to explain it was the Non-Lander girl who’d broken Tabby but changed her mind. She had better start acting now. It would be good practise for later.
‘I didn’t mean to. I was climbing a tree and he fell out of his pocket.’ She should have said ‘my hand’ but ‘his pocket’ was better – she shouldn’t have been climbing with Tabby in her hand anyway. She retrieved him from her hydropac and without meeting Klor’s eyes, handed him over.
‘I don’t know why they call these things childproof.’ Klor chucked her cheek. ‘They ought to give you a job testing them. That would bring in a little funding for Or, wouldn’t it?’
He had believed her. Astra bounced on her seat. ‘Really?’
‘If I see the position advertised, you’ll be the first to know. Now where is my Tabby-fixing kit?’
Acting was going to be easy. Astra raced to the window and rummaged in Klor’s IT drawer for his set of tiny Tablette tools. Outside, the sky had brightened to a pale powder-blue and the green shoots poking through the roof turf were glinting like dagger tips. In the valley, people had started work in the gardens and orchards, and the kitchen team were heading to Core House to start making breakfast. Or was awakening, just like any other day. All she had to do was help Klor fix Tabby, show Nimma she was dressed properly for school, go to Core House for special Security Shot Day waffles and syrup, then meet Hokma at West Gate with Meem, Yoki, Peat and the others. Hokma would give them special goody bags to celebrate Security Shot Day, with carob bars to eat after the needle. When she got to school, before class started, she had to drink the bottle of orange juice Hokma was going to give her, all in one go. That was very important. Don’t sip it, Hokma had said. It won’t taste very nice, but you have to drink it down all in one go. Promise?
What would happen next would be disgusting and horrible and make Tedis Sonnenson laugh at her for the whole of the term. But it would also turn her into a famous genius one day.
Clasping the toolkit to her chest, Astra ran back to Klor with a hop, skip and a Neolympic-length jump.
1.6
As the rest of the school filed into the gym, Astra tried to memorise every detail of the IMBOD medical officers’ appearance. They were the most impressive officers she had ever seen and she also had to do something to distract her from the strange feeling that had been bubbling in her tummy ever since she’d drunk the orange juice on the bus. It had tasted disgusting but she’d managed not to pull a face as she drank it, all in one go. Now she just needed to get through Assembly without drawing any attention to herself. She wished Tabby was here to give her moral support, but after their joint examination of his wounds Klor had said fixing him would take a little time so she was on her own. At least no one was allowed to take photos in Assembly, so she didn’t have to sit there like a mushroom while everyone else thrust their Tablettes in the air to snap the officers in a massive competition she would have wanted to win.
The officers were both Corporals, but one had two stripes. The lower-ranking Officer was small, round and blonde. The First Officer was tall and muscular and her skin was as dark as one of Nimma’s ebony spoons. Both were wearing black peaked caps trimmed with silver, black army boots and hydrobelts, black thigh-knife straps and IMBOD armbands displaying their silver stripes. In front of them, Astra felt proud of her own wardrobe. She had won her morning battle with Nimma and the skirt had stayed in the drawer. Instead she was adorned with her green and white Or-kid armband, the one she usually wore for Sportsdays. Today was like a Sportsday prize-giving ceremony, in fact, because behind the officers the stage was draped with a huge IMBOD flag. The Is-Land Shield on a white background was exactly the same as the national flag, except curving beneath the Shield were the bold black words Is-Land Ministry of Boundary Defence. Astra didn’t need to memorise the Shield, of course; she could draw it in her sleep: a sea-green downward-pointing triangle halved by a vertical crimson line and surrounded by a radiant golden circle. But the flag still commanded her attention: it was enormous and shiny, made of sateen and handstitched in the kind of plush, richly-coloured threads Nimma never let young sewers use.
At last, when the gym was full, the teachers had finished shushing from the sidelines and the children were all quiet, the Head, Mr Watersson, got up from his chair on the stage and stood at the lectern. ‘Happy Security Shot Day, Golden Bough School,’ he greeted them. ‘Please rise and welcome our guests with your best rendition of the National Anthem.’
The officers stood up, and Astra scrambled to her feet with the rest of the children. She loved the National Anthem – though she would have to concentrate, to make sure she remembered the new version. ‘O Shield,’ she recited, gazing devotedly at the flag and wishing Tabby was there to hear the stirring words.
Your beautiful Triangle
Summons the spirit of Gaia
And sings also of Is-Land
The green earth that springs anew
Between two rivers
Your bright red pillar
Commands us to respect
Gaia’s molten core
And the martyrs’ blood
That runs in Is-Lander veins
Surrounding all
Your golden circle
Holds us safe
Inspires us to revere
The Sun, the Shell, the Wheel Meet
And Is-Land’s Sacred Grains
O IMBOD Shield
You protect us
And we vow to defend
All that you contain
The hymn unfurled from two hundred throats. To make ‘Shell’ fit, the word ‘shining’ before ‘Sun’ had been taken out. Astra still had the old line in her head, but she chanted the right words and the hymn went off perfectly. When the last syllable faded Mr Watersson gestured for them all to sit ag
ain and she made herself comfortable on the floor. The chanting had helped her to breathe deeply and her stomach felt calmer. Onstage, the Second Officer sat back down again too, but the First Officer stepped forward to the front of the stage.
‘Good morning, Golden Bough School,’ she said in a loud, clear voice. ‘And it is a very good morning. Today is a historic day for you and for Is-Land. Today the Year One to Year Three students in this hall will be joining a major evolution in national defence, a conscious revolution, in fact. Today, as you know, is Security Serum Day. Now, some of you may not like needles, but I know what you do like: Is-Land!’
She and the Second Officer raised their fists in the air: ‘Is-Land!’ they shouted.
‘Is-Land! Is-Land!’ the whole Assembly roared, teachers too. It was tremendous to be shouting together: with each syllable she expelled, Astra felt the remaining tension in her tummy leave her mouth in a stream of little bubbles and burst into nothing at all. It was even okay that Tabby wasn’t there. She would have so much to tell him when she got home.
‘Yes, we all love Is-Land,’ the First Officer continued after the tumult had subsided. ‘Thanks to the noble sacrifices your parents and their parents have made, the children in this school have grown up in our beautiful nation in safety. The infiltrators have all been expelled and Non-Landers are confined now to the Southern Belt. While the task of policing the Belt is not easy, IMBOD is more than capable of meeting it. But in twenty-three years’ time, when the Global Ceasefire ends, Is-Land will face far more dangerous challenges.’
Silvie Higgsdott was wriggling beside Astra. Astra shot her a deadly glance and moved her thigh away. Didn’t Silvie care about the future? In twenty-three years’ time she would be – she did the sum in her head – nearly thirty-one. When Hokma was thirty-one she had moved into Wise House and begun work on the Owleons. What would she, Astra, be doing? Would she have her own office at Code House, discovering how to regrow mammalian limbs? Would she be working in Atourne on top-secret Shelltech? Would she be giving IMBOD talks, like the First Officer, tall and confident and glowing?
‘We hope – the whole world hopes,’ the officer went on, ‘that one hundred years without war will have changed humanity. We hope that no nation state will ever again initiate military aggression against its neighbours. But we cannot be sure of that and so we must be prepared. As we all know, IMBOD has been working for the past seven years on developing the Shell: a magnetic defence field that will cover Is-Land like a dome. When completed, and switched on in times of need, the Shell will be capable of repelling any bomb or missile our enemies may try to use against us. The technical details are still classified, but I have been authorised to tell you that the Shell has just passed its first stage of testing with flying colours.’
The officer paused again, so the Assembly could cheer this momentous announcement. Astra cheered too, louder than Silvie on her left, louder than Tedis on her right. Tedis, she saw, was picking his nose. Ms Raintree frowned at him and he smeared his finger on his leg. She shifted away from him. Just like Tedis to make the class look bad.
Onstage, the officer flashed her dazzling smile. ‘Mining the rare Shelltech components and building the Shell will be an immense task,’ she told them. ‘It will require the Boundary’s entire outer walls to be clad in Shelltech components, even through the treacherous Southern Belt. Our personnel resources will be stretched to the limit, and we know the Non-Landers will take advantage of any weakness in our ranks. To succeed, the work will require collective skills, courage and dedication on a scale only the earliest Gaian Pioneers could surpass. That is why, in tandem with the Shell, IMBOD has also developed the Security Serum. The Serum will create a new generation of Is-Landers superbly equipped to defend the nation our parents and grandparents sacrificed so much to build. Years One, Two and Three, I am talking to you.’
The officer’s voice rang out against the hall. Astra sat up straight and flexed her biceps. Her armband tightened. Beside her, Tedis and Silvie stopped fidgeting.
‘As Security Generation members, you will be logical, calm and team-spirited – but you will also be fearless warriors. You will excel in all the traditional fields of Gaian endeavour, but you will also be ideally suited to the new national task that lies ahead of us all: the task of building and maintaining the Shell in the most dangerous conditions imaginable. You will all be heroes. For those Is-children lucky enough to be in Years One, Two and Three, the best way to show your gratitude is to have your Security shot bravely today, without crying. Because there is absolutely nothing to cry about any more. Quite the opposite! The Security shot is a gift from IMBOD’s top scientists to us all.
‘Everyone else, don’t be sad. Your lives will be far safer and simpler thanks to the Security Generation. Teachers, Years Four, Five, Six and Seven: can we clap Years One, Two and Three, please? Can we thank them in advance for the tremendous work they will do for us in the years ahead?’
The two officers and Mr Watersson began to clap. The older children and the teachers joined in, dutifully at first, then, as the First Officer paced across the stage, conducting with her arms, more exuberantly, some whistling and whooping as they realised that a clamour was not only permitted but required. For a moment, as Silvie leaned against her, warm and giggling, Astra forgot that she didn’t deserve the deafening applause. She peeked over her shoulder to see if Torrent was clapping as energetically as he ought to be. But Ms Raintree caught her eye and pursed her lips so she gave up and faced the stage again.
‘Thank you, Golden Bough School!’ the First Officer exclaimed over the din. When the applause finally died down, she resumed her speech. ‘Thanks to your enthusiasm and loyalty, thanks to the foresight and hard work of IMBOD’s Serum and Shell scientists, Is-Land need never fear that our powerful neighbours may one day turn against us. We need never fear that the terror squatters in the Southern Belt will acquire rockets or bombers. Instead, as the decades progress, Is-Land will continue to take its rightful place among the world’s nations, not only as a prime exporter of Code Innovation and Shelltech but, like Garmaland and Himalaya, as a Sacred Land, a CONC-designated haven, safe for all to visit.’
As she finished her speech, the First Officer’s soaring voice and gleaming smile acquired an electrifying sheen. The children yelled ‘Is-Land, Is-Land,’ again, and the teachers stood up and clapped wildly. Ms Raintree even cried – Astra saw her wipe her eyes. Her job done, the First Officer sat down next to the Second Officer and batted her a bashful, sidelong glance, as if to say, ‘How did I do?’
* * *
Back in the classroom, before they started their maths tasks, Ms Raintree spent a few minutes discussing the Assembly. Both the officers were young – they had just finished their IMBOD Service, she told the students. Imagine having such an important responsibility when you were still only twenty! They must have done very well on all their tests. And yes, Tedis, administering Security shots definitely involved maths: graphs, pie charts, schedules and dosages. The officers had undoubtedly done exceptionally well in their maths tests. If you wanted to be as successful as they were when you were twenty, you needed to get your head down now and concentrate on your Tablette exercises. Astra put up her hand, and Ms Raintree said, yes I know you need a school Tablette today, and rolled down the aisle to give her one.
Astra’s desk was by the window. If she glanced sideways she had a perfect view of the IMBOD mobile medical unit parked in the playground; sneaking a look when Ms Raintree was helping Leaf with a sum, she watched a batch of Year Ones enter the unit. As she waited for them to emerge, her stomach began to feel tender and gassy again, and it became even more difficult to concentrate on her equations, even though they were easy. She did her best, but she was falling behind. Silvie or Acorn would get the gold star today.
At last the Year Ones poured out of the unit. Some were proudly examining their Tablettes, showing each other their new certificate uploads; some were punching the air, others were tenderly fing
ering their shoulders. Kamut Bosonson was crying and holding the Second Officer’s hand as she escorted the children back to their classroom. The First Officer stayed inside the unit. She must be the one injecting the Serum.
Meem was in the next group of students being led across the yard. She was wearing her flap-hat and a faux-grass skirt, and she was skipping and laughing and kicking a pebble until the Second Officer told her not to. Astra’s stomach contracted. Her skin felt hot. Couldn’t Meem, Yoki and Peat also not have the shot? she’d asked Hokma, but Hokma had said that giving a group of children a secret was like putting an egg in a washing machine. Besides, the other Or-kids’ Code parents wanted them to have the shot – and even if they didn’t, Hokma’s plan would only work for one child.
Meem disappeared into the van. Astra checked the time. Her Tablette clock read 9:51. The school had emailed Hokma the schedule so she knew it would take another hour to finish the Year Ones, then the Year Twos would start at 11:00: first Mr Banzan’s class, then Ms Raintree’s, so Yoki would get his shot before Astra was supposed to. Peat and the Year Threes would have their shot after siesta.
She tried to do one more sum. But her tummy swelled and squeezed again and the numerals swam together before her eyes. Her skin was burning and her mouth felt dry. Hot bubbles of sweat were bursting out on her forehead. She couldn’t breathe. She gasped for air and her stomach cranked a blazing bolt of pain up towards her heart. She wrapped her arms around her middle and started to cry.
‘Ms Raintree,’ Tedis piped up excitedly, ‘Astra’s going to be sick.’
‘Euw!’ Silvie squealed. The harsh metallic noise of chairs being dragged over the tiled floor scraped the inside of Astra’s skull. Vaguely she sensed Ms Raintree’s cool palm on her brow, but nothing could soothe the fire racing over her or douse the acid flaming in her throat. She was gagging now, in great gulpy hiccoughs, until her ribs ached and her whole body was shaking.
