Astra

by Naomi Foyle

  ‘Yes, dear, that’s a good solution. It won’t be for long, will it, Astra?’

  But Nimma was already sailing out of the room.

  3.3

  Sometimes – before – she had imagined that telling everyone would be a relief. But every day the worst thing about her situation changed. First came the three days spent getting IMBOD approval for Klor and Nimma’s custody plan, during which Yoki and Meem were barred from the Earthship and Nimma refused to speak to her. Then IMBOD rejected Klor’s application to stay at Wise House with her on the grounds that Astra needed to make a clean break with Hokma and everything Hokma represented. And besides, Nimma argued vociferously to Klor, ignoring Astra even though she was sitting right beside him, Wise House was impractical. The climb was too steep for Klor, and he needed to visit the Earthship every morning and evening. So he and Astra pitched a visitors’ yurt behind the Kinbat track and IMBOD approved a schedule which accounted for every frigging millisecond of her day.

  In the morning, while the Or-kids were having breakfast, she was to do yoga; after they had gone to school she was allowed to eat their leftovers at Core House. Then she was to go to Code House for her counselling sessions; her downtime and studies would be in the same spare office. She could go outside in the afternoon, to garden or swim, but she was not allowed to mix with the younger children. After the Or-kids got back from school she had to return to Code House to study. While they were eating dinner, she was to do her Kinbat laps. She was not allowed to visit the Quiet Room after her own late-shift meal at a table across the hall from the kitchen staff; instead she had to return to the yurt for meditation or studying. Her Tablette would be monitored, and under no circumstances was she to Tablette-talk any of her siblings or schoolmates. Any infraction of these rules would be treated very seriously. If she were found attempting to communicate with another Or-kid she would be removed from Or and placed in the special school in Sippur. In addition, Klor, as her guardian, would be punished with a heavy fine.

  It was crazy – even Klor said so. Well, ‘an understandable overreaction’ was how he put it, but when he wrote to IMBOD attesting that Astra’s siblings hadn’t been harmed by her so far, and suggesting she be permitted supervised contact with them for an hour a day, he was rebuffed by a firm letter from Dr Wolfson saying that the effects of such a prolonged and intimate deception on the Sec Gen loyalty trait had not yet been tested, and absolutely no chances were to be taken. If Astra wanted to protect her siblings and classmates, she would willingly keep away from them. Isolation was also in her own best interests: she needed time to think deeply about her options, and she couldn’t do that if she was caught up in the turmoil of explaining her situation to everyone and coping with all their responses. She was to consider the period a welcome rest and retreat that would benefit her immensely in the long run.

  And in fact it was a relief to be away from Nimma and her constant accusatory silence, and that first evening in the yurt Astra slept long and dreamlessly.

  But in the morning came her meeting with the counsellor, with Klor, to hear the rehabilitation plan.

  The office she’d been allocated was on Klor’s side of the upper chamber. It overlooked the Staple Crops plots, now harvested for the year, beyond which the mountains opened out onto the steppes. Other than the minor variations in the view, it was exactly like the room where the IMBOD interview had been held. The only furniture was a table and several chairs, and the obligatory orchid.

  The counsellor was an older woman with heavily lined olive skin and greying hair cut in a short bob. She stood up when they entered and shook Klor’s hand. ‘Good morning, Dr Grunerdeson. Good morning, Astra. I’m Dr Greenleafdott. Well, Astra,’ she said as they all sat down, ‘it’s been an eventful few days, hasn’t it? How are you feeling?’

  Astra rubbed her hands together in her lap. She had to play this right – but what was right?

  ‘Yes, Dr Petaldott told me you didn’t feel like talking. Not to worry. The purpose of these sessions is to help you open up and return as soon as possible to normal life. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  Return to normal life? Her life had never been normal.

  They sat for ten minutes in silence. This was ridiculous. Why wasn’t this woman asking her anything? ‘Why am I in quarantine?’ she asked at last. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong. Why am I in jail?’

  ‘Quarantine isn’t jail, Astra. You’re still at home in Or, aren’t you? You can still go outside.’

  ‘I can’t go to school,’ Astra pointed out, ‘or see anyone, and they said I can’t do my IMBOD Service. So what’s going to happen to me? Am I going to be punished my whole life?’

  ‘Not at all, Astra: this period of solitude is designed to help you reflect on what’s happened to you, to think about who you are – and who you want to be. Your future is yours to decide. You have many options, and that’s what I want to discuss with you and your Shelter father today.’

  Dr Greenleafdott explained that Astra was currently in distress, for many reasons and at many levels, but the depth and complexity of her emotional crisis was being masked by the volatility of her anger. Astra, it had been observed, was a person with a powerful sense of anger, and currently that anger was being misdirected towards the people who loved and cared for her, causing her and her family conflict and pain. This was not Astra’s fault; she should not have been burdened with the capacity for uncontrolled anger in the first place. For Sec Gen children, anger was a short-term emotion triggered only by urgent, life-threatening situations. For Astra, though, anger appeared to be a chronic condition, triggered by insignificant conflicts. Fortunately, psychological techniques existed to help her control her temper – but first, she needed to channel that anger towards the source of her current difficulties: Hokma. Once Astra was able to recognise that Hokma had abused her, she could begin to work on her anger management and start the journey of reintegration into Is-Land society. She would never be able to fully bond with the Sec Gens, of course, and she would have to perform special duties during her IMBOD Service, but she could certainly take up a place at a college in Atourne, and as she was just a couple of years younger than the non-Sec Gens, she would certainly find suitable friends and colleagues and Gaia partners in future.

  If, however, these sessions failed and Astra was unable to distance herself from Hokma, then the situation would become very complicated. Astra could not perform IMBOD Service if she was known to harbour feelings of loyalty to a traitor, and though she would be able to work as an aglab during those two years, without completing IMBOD Service she would not be qualified to attend college, and that would mean all high-level jobs would be closed to her. She wouldn’t be able to remain in Or, because her siblings would be distressed by the conflict she posed to their own loyalty, so she would have to work in another bioregion as a basic-rate member of a domestic team all her life, in the kitchen or gardens. Of course, this kind of work was a valuable service to Gaia, but Astra was intelligent and surely she wanted to do more with her life than weed and wash dishes.

  Essentially, the counsellor explained in calm, professional tones, Astra needed to come to a personal understanding of her rightful place in family and national life. That was the first step. Then she needed to make a public statement renouncing Hokma and her malign influence; this statement would be read at Hokma’s trial. A date for the trial had not yet been set, but certainly Astra would want to make her statement in time to start her IMBOD Service. That gave her a maximum of six months to work with Dr Greenleafdott – although breakthroughs could often occur early in the process, and perhaps Astra could even make her statement this week.

  ‘I see. I see.’ Klor was straight-backed on his chair, his hands on his knees. ‘And the trial? Will Astra have to appear?’

  ‘No, the statement will be sufficient. Though if Astra does choose to testify in person, that of course would be looked upon very favourably by IMBOD. As would her willingness to be interviewed for the media.�
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  ‘Of course. We understand, don’t we, Astra?’

  Anger: where was it when she needed it? She was drained of all force, an empty kinbattery. ‘But …’ She turned to Klor. ‘Hokma could go to jail forever.’

  ‘Astra.’ Dr Greenleafdott regarded her firmly. ‘Hokma’s sentence is not your responsibility, and it will not rest on your statement. The charges against her extend far beyond her manipulation of you.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘I don’t know the evidence against her but we all have to trust that IMBOD would not happily charge one of their star researchers with treason. There is a solid case against her and sadly, you and everyone at Or must now come to terms with her betrayal.’

  She was talking as if Hokma had already been convicted – but no one had heard Hokma’s side of the story. Perhaps she had a defence; perhaps there had been a mistake – perhaps someone had planted a memory clip on Helium’s corpse, or perhaps Hokma had just thought another IMBOD ruling was ill-conceived and was trying to help Dr Pollen with alternative research. Surely her lawyers might argue that Hokma was well intentioned but misguided? If Astra testified against her, Hokma’s defence would be weakened. She couldn’t do it, no matter how many greasy pots she had to wash or brambles she had to pull up with her bare hands.

  She scrutinised Dr Greenleafdott. ‘What happens if I don’t feel like answering your questions?’

  ‘You’re not on trial, Astra. These sessions are to help you. If you don’t want to co-operate, that is up to you. But I do suggest that you think about your options very carefully, and discuss them with your Shelter father if you don’t yet feel ready to talk with me.’

  Klor put his arm around the back of her chair. ‘We’ll do that, won’t we, Astra?’

  ‘I think that’s probably enough for today, isn’t it?’ Dr Greenleafdott tapped her Tablette screen. ‘I’ll email you both the sessions plan and see Astra back here tomorrow.’

  * * *

  She needed time: time to think, time for things to change, for the decision she was being forced to make to alter its shape, become possible. But the problem with time was that it wasn’t making her decisions easier; it was making all her problems grow. Every day, the pain of being separated from everyone else intensified, like a spike twisting slowly in her chest. Every day she had to watch Meem and Yoki and the other children pour in and out of Core House without her; every day she had to sit for hours with Dr Greenleafdott, giving monosyllabic answers to her repetitive questions. But worst of all were the moments, and then, gradually, the hours, when she felt that perhaps it was true: perhaps she did hate Hokma for what she’d done.

  Until now she had thought she couldn’t hate anyone more than she hated Ahn and Dr Blesserson. They were lizards who soaked up the heat of other people’s passions to warm their own blood, maggots who fed off the rotting flesh of other people’s dreams, and in the end they had betrayed Hokma – and worse, Ahn had done so gratuitously. There had been no need for him to help IMBOD investigate her shot; Hokma was in enough trouble already and no one except Astra and Lil knew that he knew the truth. Her first week in the yurt, Astra spent hours every night dwelling on his motives. She ached to know how the topic of her shot had come up in Ahn’s interview. Part of her was convinced that Ahn had instigated the whole line of the enquiry, right from the beginning, warning Samrod to prepare a case against her – but why? He must have been afraid that if IMBOD did decide to test her, she would have exposed him – which was, after all, exactly what she had done. So perhaps, she concluded dully, she was just as vindictive as he was; he was just smarter than her: he’d thought ahead and she hadn’t. By confessing first, he’d become the witness, not the suspect. And she’d been stupid. She could have stuck to her story, pretended that she didn’t know she’d never had the shot. She could have let them test her and then feigned surprise at the results – she could have claimed she’d always believed Dr Blesserson had given her the Serum in his office. They would still have assumed Hokma had given her the antidote, but at least she would have kept Nimma on her side.

  She realised how quickly she’d fallen into IMBOD’s trap, how her panic and quick temper had damaged and undermined her, blunted and baffled what had always been her keen, searing hatred of Ahn and Samrod Blesserson. Maybe they hadn’t conspired against her. Maybe Dr Blesserson had long ago prepared a story to protect himself – and Ahn was just frightened, he had panicked too, thinking somehow IMBOD knew he knew, and had grassed her up in return for legal protection.

  Whatever had happened behind IMBOD’s closed doors, neither of the men cared a pomegranate seed about her or Hokma. She detested them, but she could live with that; in a strange way, her contempt for the two men had started to sustain her. It set her pulse throbbing in a steady rhythm that would one day, she swore, propel her towards her revenge. What she couldn’t live with were her feelings about Hokma. Hokma was her Shelter mother. Hokma, Dr Greenleafdott repeated in every session, should have looked after her. Hokma should have always acted in her best interests. As the weeks wore on and the loneliness accumulated beneath her ribs, Astra could feel the counsellor wearing her down.

  She could be happy right now. She could be Gaia-playing in Woodland Siesta, her legs wrapped around Tedis’ smooth flanks, her mouth buried in Sultana’s sweet garden, tracing her Shield brand with her tongue; she could be running in berserker Murmurations, practising patrol moves, preparing for IMBOD Service with everyone else. Instead, she was alone, rejected, facing a future of isolation and menial work: all because Hokma had forced her to make a decision she was too young to understand. She had bribed her with the Owleons and the promise of being a genius one day. But she wasn’t a genius, and even if she was, IMBOD would never let her run a lab now. Hokma hadn’t even prepared her for the possibility of her arrest. She hadn’t told Astra what to say; she’d just left her to flail, helpless, on her own, against IMBOD and the world. Why did you do it? she would cry to herself when Klor was out of the yurt, the javelin spike of Hokma’s betrayal piercing her chest. Why did you experiment on me?

  She would awaken feeling heavy and foggy and ashamed – ashamed of her own betrayal of Hokma. Hokma hadn’t experimented on her; the opposite was true. Hokma had wanted to preserve her from alteration, to allow her to reach her Birth-Code potential. Then, if Astra let it, a squirming would begin in her stomach: a sly worm emerging from the past to whisper, It’s all your fault. If you had told Hokma when Lil threatened you, Ahn would never have found out about the shot …

  She’d have to get up then and scrub her face and do kick-boxing warm-ups or double-time sun salutations. She was being weak, failing the test. Hokma wasn’t in prison because of her or Lil; she was there because of Helium. Hokma, she knew, wouldn’t be crying in prison. She would be strong and patient, she would do yoga during the day, and at night she would lie in bed thinking about the Owleons, or solving Code problems. There was no way she was going to tell Dr Greenleafdott she hated Hokma.

  Except that the only way she had any chance to rejoin her siblings and school friends and go to college and have a job she enjoyed would be to do just that. She was paralysed by the choice. Perhaps if she held out, something else would happen to change the game again.

  She doubled her resolve to clam up again, to never respond to Dr Greenleafdott’s questions with more than a grunt or a denial. Every day when she got back to the yurt after a session Klor would ask her how it went and she’d shrug and mutter, ‘Okay.’

  ‘Hokma would understand, darling,’ he said finally, one evening when the rain was drizzling down the yurt flaps and the mouldy smell of wet canvas was starting to make her feel ill.

  She didn’t reply.

  ‘She wants you to have a future – any loving parent would happily give their own future for their child’s.’

  She knew what he was saying: Just lie. You’re good at lying. Lie a little more. Tell Dr Greenleafdott you wish you were Sec Gen; that you feel abused, exploited, b
etrayed. Tell her you’ll testify against Hokma, you’ll tell a story the journalists can embellish with lurid headlines: ‘Ex-Gaia Girl Secret Victim of Is-Land Traitor’, ‘Stranded: Sec Gen Castaway Reveals Lonely Struggle to Fit In’. In return, you’ll get back your family and your celebrity and with them hook a cushy, non-frontline IMBOD Service position and later, a place at Code College and a job somewhere with older Is-Landers – and there, at last, you might find a way of belonging. Hokma’s future is over. Your future is right there in front of you. Reach out and take it.

  But he was a loving parent. Why couldn’t he help her?

  She rolled round on her bedmat and whispered across the yurt, ‘Will you test me for the teaby shot? Please? We could go now, to Code House.’

  Klor was silent for a very long time. She flopped over on her back again and shut her eyes.

  ‘I would give my other leg for you, my darling.’ His voice pushed through the rain, then faltered. ‘But I can’t destroy Nimma.’

  No. She had known that battle was lost before it began. But Klor had wanted to help her fight Dr Blesserson. She clung to that thought like a walking staff. ‘He’s lying though,’ she insisted. ‘You know he’s lying, don’t you?’

  Klor sat up, reached over and turned on his solar lamp. ‘Astra, I believe that you believe in your story.’

  What? She raised herself too, but he stopped her with a palm. ‘But even if Dr Blesserson did know what he was doing,’ he continued, ‘Hokma was his sister. And she saved his bond partner’s life. I can’t blame the man for trying to help her, or for protecting himself now. We just have to co-operate, darling. They do want what’s best for you in the end.’