by Mary Fan
He will. I have to believe that. TalentCorp can’t wipe all his memories without destroying the years of training they’ve invested in him. Our individual passions are what make us Artists, rather than compuplayers. You can program a synthetic instrument to play the notes, but you can’t imbue it with the joys or sorrow it takes to pull off a stirring performance. That’s why Mistress Ydaya wouldn’t let her husband tamper with my mind, and that’s why, whatever they end up doing to Milo’s memories, some piece of me will remain, at least for a little while. As long as I reach him before the effects of their manipulations become permanent, I’ll find a way to make him remember me. Half a lifetime of friendship can’t disappear so easily.
Cara glances at her watch, then straightens with a start. She presses it, and a small hologram written in Adryil appears.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Cara’s eyes dart over the hologram, and she furrows her brow. “It’s a message from Atikéa. Jaerin and the strike team just returned from their rescue mission.”
“They got Dámiul out?” My words rush with eagerness. “Is he okay? When can I see him?”
“Why so excited?” Cara smirks. “You like him, don’t you?”
Heat rushes into my face. “I… I just…”
“Holy shit, you do! I knew it!”
Embarrassed, I look away.
Cara elbows me. “Ah, don’t be such a wilting flower about it. You wouldn’t be the first Earthling to be dazzled by a pair of shiny Adryil eyes. I swear, every Adryil I’ve ever seen is attractive by Earthling standards, even old assholes like Master Ydaya. It’s not fair.” She goes over to my chair and plops down. “Anyway, I’m planning on making another HQ run tonight. I assume you want to come?”
I brighten. “Of course!”
She makes a face. “Try not to be too lovey-dovey in public, will you?”
Her sarcasm slides right off me. Tonight, I’ll see Dámiul again. I don’t know what I’ll say to him, or how he’ll react when he sees me. It doesn’t matter—for now, all I care about is that, at long last, I’ll be reunited with my alien prince.
CHAPTER 29
THE DOOR TO THE ABOLITIONISTS’ hidden headquarters sinks into the floor, and I rush inside. “Dámiul?”
“He’s not here.” Atikéa emerges from one of the rooms.
“Where is he?” I glimpse Jaerin through the open door behind her, sitting at a table with his head in his hands. The room suddenly feels dark with gloom, and I wonder what I’m missing.
Jaerin lifts his head, revealing a wide gash across his forehead. “I failed.”
Cara speeds toward him. “What happened to you?” She examines his wound. “I’ll get a med kit.”
“Don’t bother.” Jaerin’s voice is dull. “I’ll wear it as my mark of shame.” He slams the table. “We were so close!”
“Don’t be stupid. Getting yourself infected won’t help your brother.” Cara starts walking away.
Jaerin grabs her wrist. “I’m fine. It’s not me you should be worrying about.”
She yanks her arm free. “What the hell does—”
“Cara.” Atikéa shakes her head. “I’ve been trying to get him to accept a bandage for hours. He won’t listen—just let him be.”
Cara glowers fiercely, but stays quiet.
Atikéa glances at me. “Dámiul was scheduled to be transferred from one reeducation center to another today. Jaerin and the strike team ambushed the transport, hoping to break him out. But there were more guards than we anticipated.” She approaches Jaerin and puts her hand on his shoulder. “I’m just glad no one saw you.”
Jaerin shakes his head. “I should have fought harder. Dámiul was right there—I saw him. Even called his name.” His mouth tightens. “He looked at me like I was a stranger.”
I bite my lip, refusing to fear the worst.
Atikéa takes the seat beside Jaerin. “I’m sure when you have a chance to speak with him, whatever barriers they put in his mind will crumble.”
Jaerin stares ahead. “Only if I get to him before it’s too late. The brother I knew could already be gone.”
I feel a swelling behind my heart and lean back against the doorframe. I can’t believe what’s happening. I thought I’d be seeing Dámiul again, and instead, I learn that I might have lost him for good.
A loud clunk startles me. Cara stands beside Jaerin, her hand on the metal box she apparently just slammed onto the table. She opens it and pulls out a silver tube.
Jaerin glares at her. “I said—”
“Shut up.” Cara coolly adjusts the nozzle. “I don’t know what kind of misguided badge you’re holding onto, but I’m sick of looking at that mess on your forehead.”
Jaerin starts to stand, but Cara grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down. “Joth’en, Cara!” He throws her hand off.
Cara grabs his shoulder again. “You want to fight me over it? Screw you! Stop wallowing in self-pity and let me clean you up!”
“Jaerin, please.” Atikéa leans toward him. “This way of punishing yourself won’t do anyone any good.”
Jaerin glares at Cara, but doesn’t move as she brings up the tube. She aims the nozzle at his forehead, then presses the end. A line of clear gel flows out of the device, and she slowly covers his wound. She then takes a white cloth and wipes his forehead, removing the gel and the blood. She keeps her mouth hard, but the gentleness of her movements and the soft look in her eyes betray her caring.
My mind feels as though it’s floating through a haze, unwilling to accept the facts before me. I should be coming up with other escape plans, but I don’t know where to begin. A sense of helplessness envelops me, and no matter how I try to shake it, it clings to me. What can I do? What can I, a mere musician who barely understands what’s going on, possibly do to save Dámiul when rebels with underground connections have failed?
Cara grabs a second tube from the box and squeezes its opaque white contents onto Jaerin’s injury. Jaerin looks stormy, but doesn’t resist as she spreads the liquid bandage across his forehead. She finishes and tosses the tube back into the box. “There. Now, if you’d just listen to me, I have a plan for freeing your brother.”
I stare at her, startled.
Jaerin, who appears equally surprised, looks up at her. “I thought you were against this.”
“Strategically, yes.” Cara meets his gaze. “But contrary to common belief, I do have a heart.”
Hope ignites in me. Eager to hear what she has to say, I approach her. “What’s your plan?”
Cara pulls out a chair and sits down at the table. “Well, the Adryil, as you know, like to think of themselves as the good guys. So that means they want to take care of the criminals they’re rehabilitating. After all, the whole point is to fix them, not punish them. To boost morale behind prison walls, they do things like take them on trips and put on shows. It’s mostly an excuse for the rich to show off their generous spirits, but hey, if it makes the prisoners happy, I’m not objecting.” She puts her elbows on her knees and leans forward. “One of the things these rich people like to do is lend their Ka’risil to the prison for a night of art therapy. The Ydayas did it once about six months ago, and I’m sure they’d be happy to do it again. Mistress Ydaya loves showing off her little collection.”
I sink into a chair. My mind remains in a fog, refusing to let the hope shine too brightly after the disappointment of learning that Jaerin’s mission failed. But I hear what she’s saying. “If they loan us to the prison, we can get inside.”
“Exactly.” Cara straightens. “Breaking open a door won’t be a problem for the likes of Atikéa. It’s getting Dámiul to that door that’s the trick. Once I’m inside, I’ll wander off and get him.”
“No.” Atikéa gives Cara a firm look. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t put you in harm’s way.”
Cara throws up her hand. “If I don’t care, why should you?” She prods Jaerin. “Back me up here. I know you’d go to the prison yourself, but since
you’re banned from going near the place, I’ll have to be your proxy.”
“Cara.” Jaerin’s voice is soft. “If they catch you, they’ll erase your mind and send you to work as a laborer.”
“I know.” Cara shrugs.
Jaerin meets her gaze. “Why would you take this risk?”
“Because I know how much your brother means to you, and I hate seeing you like this.” Her tone takes a gentle turn. “I, on the other hand, don’t have anyone who’ll miss me.”
Jaerin shakes his head. “That’s not true.”
The fog clears from my mind, and a realization hits me. Everything that Cara’s proposing could be done by me instead of her. “I’ll go.” My own words startle me. Everyone stares at me, and I straighten, ready to stand by them. “I’ll be the one who finds Dámiul and leads him out.”
Cara raises her eyebrow. “You trying to steal my heroics?”
Annoyed, I give her a sharp glance. “Dámiul knows me. We communicated pretty frequently at Papilio. He’ll recognize me, and that might break down the mental barriers you were talking about earlier.”
Cara’s other eyebrow lifts, joining the first. “Communicated?”
I feel a blush rise into my cheeks and try to ignore the teasing glint in her eyes.
Atikéa opens her mouth, as though about to object again.
“Listen.” I meet her gaze. “Dámiul means a lot to me, and I can’t stand by and do nothing when he’s in trouble. If I never see him again, I’ll…”
I trail off, unable to find the right words. For the first time since coming to Adrye, that possibility really hits me. I held onto the hope that he was nearby, and that I’d find him. Even when I learned he was a prisoner, I hoped that Jaerin would rescue him for me. But if Dámiul didn’t recognize his own brother, is there any sense in hoping at all?
The swelling behind my heart grows stronger. The need to see him again rushes into my thoughts, and I clench my jaw, trying to stave off tears.
“Please, let me do this.” I speak slowly, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“I can’t.” Atikéa’s jaw is set. “Whatever we do, I’m keeping both you and Cara out of it.”
“Why?” Cara protests. “We’re not helpless!”
“Because my mission is to protect you, not send you into danger!” Atikéa’s voice rises. “I won’t do this!” She seems unusually upset about Cara and my volunteering for a mission, and I wonder if something else is bothering her.
Jaerin turns to her. “It could be Dámiul’s only chance. I don’t think there’s any other choice.” He whispers something to her in Adryil.
Atikéa shakes her head again. As she speaks, her eyes seem to plead. For several minutes, I watch them go back and forth, unable to understand anything.
I look to Cara, who regards them with a puzzled expression. Apparently, she doesn’t know what they’re saying either.
Jaerin appears to grow insistent, and Atikéa’s lip quivers. She looks down and nods.
Cara gives Jaerin a quick poke. “What’s going on?”
Atikéa gets up and rushes out of the room without a word.
Jaerin watches her with an expression of sorrow. “Atikéa agreed to the plan.” He turns to me. “I think you’re right. You should be the one to find Dámiul. You won’t be alone, though.” He glances at Cara. “Your task will be to ensure that no one notices that she’s missing. And I… I’ll be around in case of trouble. I’ll make sure neither of you are caught.”
Cara frowns. “You’re banned, remember? Going within a hundred yards of that prison counts as a strike for you. And if they decide to probe your mind, that’s bad for all of us. Unlike Dámiul, who was acting on his own, you’re actually part of the Abolition. Our hideouts, our plans, which Ka’risil know the truth—you could reveal it all. What’ll become of the rest of us if you do?”
Jaerin’s eyes tilt with sadness. “You’re right, of course.” He presses something on the edge of the table. A rectangular panel slides open in front of him, revealing a brightly lit screen. “In case you were wondering, Iris, tonight’s mission was my second attempt to free my brother. I broke in right after Dámiul was sent to a reeducation center. I was caught before I found him, but thanks to my father’s influence, they didn’t press charges. However, I’m forbidden from nearing any reeducation center, and they’ve been watching me, which is why I had to wait for them to transfer Dámiul someplace before trying again.” His expression tightens. “I didn’t know they were moving him because they’d already finished their task of erasing him. Until I saw him tonight.” He inhales, then glances at the screen. “But while I was in the facility during my first attempt, I managed to talk to a guard—one of the mid-ranking officers. For the right price, he can be quite helpful.” A hologram of a wide building appears. “This is a map of the facility Dámiul is being held in now. I obtained it a few days ago in case the second attempt failed.”
Cara points at him. “So you were considering something just like my plan this whole time!”
Jaerin nods. “I even started making preparations, but until you suggested it just now, I didn’t know how I’d get someone into the facility to lead Dámiul out.” He turns to me. “I wish I didn’t have to resort to asking for your help, but Dámiul’s time is running out, and I have no other options. Are you sure you’re willing to do this?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate to answer.
“All right.” Jaerin looks down at the screen again, and the hologram switches to an interior view. A no-nonsense attitude replaces his previous distress. “My family runs in the same circles as the Ydayas. I’ll make a social call and suggest that they lend their quartet to the next charity show at the prison. They shouldn’t be hard to persuade. I’ll also get you an access card for the facility from my officer ‘friend.’”
“Don’t the Adryil control doors with their telepathy?”
“In most cases, yes. But detention centers are full of those considered dangerous, and so they’re equipped with telepathy-blocking devices to prevent the prisoners from using their abilities against the authorities.”
“By the way,” Cara quips, “Earth uses the same devices in their telepathy-blocking satellites. You can imagine how many Ka’risil they had to sell to pay for those.”
Jaerin gestures at the hologram. “Security cameras are employed in every corner of the facility to keep watch over the prisoners, but my contact has access to them. He’ll shut them down so no one will see you.”
I nod, glad that Jaerin’s so prepared.
Cara gives Jaerin an incredulous look. “You thought of everything, didn’t you? Did you know you’d fail Attempt Number Two?”
Jaerin glances at her. “I knew there was a chance we would. And if that happened, I wanted the next attempt to happen as quickly as possible, before Dámiul’s memories are lost forever.” A wry smile curls his lips. “If there’s one thing my father taught me, it’s how to be ready for every possibility.” He turns back to me. “Now, I’m going to show you how the prison is laid out so you won’t get lost. Pay attention.”
I watch keenly, ready to memorize every detail of the place.
CHAPTER 30
THE OTHER KA’RISIL SEEM OBLIVIOUS to everything but themselves. They unpack and warm up in the makeshift backstage area, which is apparently some form of conference room. As expected, Jaerin had no problem convincing the Ydayas to loan us to the charity show at the reeducation center. The days before the performance seemed to last an eternity, but now that it’s finally come, we can at last put our plan into motion.
Puna and the other Keepers stand along the walls, watching us. Puna glances at me, and I keep my expression blank so she won’t suspect anything. I didn’t dare wear my Grámed device today, since she made a point of inspecting our outfits before we came.
I find a sliver of space by the edge of the table and gently nudge someone else’s case a few inches to make room for mine. The moment Puna looks away, I open one of th
e compartments in my case and fish out the access card Jaerin gave me. Good thing it’s so small, because I don’t have much space to hide it on my person. The red-and-black concert dress I was assigned doesn’t have any pockets.
I purposely drop my shoulder rest. I duck under the table, pretending to hunt for it, and slip the card into my shoe.
I retrieve the shoulder rest and straighten. Why was I so clumsy? I’ve been nervous all evening—something must be the matter…
It’s Puna. She’s in my head again; she must have sensed my unease. I focus on the melody of “Butterfly’s Lament,” but all the music in the world doesn’t seem capable of calming my mind.
“What are you trying to do?” Cara’s voice cuts through the noise of warm-ups around me. I turn and see her glaring at a small woman with blond hair. She glances at me briefly and raises her eyebrows, then starts talking over the woman, who yells in what sounds like Spanish.
Puna strides over to the bickering pair, and I silently thank Cara for distracting her.
“Puna won’t even look for you,” Cara said earlier today. “I’m the one with the villainous face and bad attitude, remember? You just do your whole innocent thing while I make a fuss. She’ll be so busy dealing with me, she won’t notice you’re gone.”
I put my viola down in the case and take out my bow. Cara and the small woman’s quibbling voices, along with Puna’s stern commands, somersault through the room. The anxiety in my heart makes breathing take far more effort than it should, and, hoping to calm myself, I go over what Jaerin and Atikéa told me.
During our last “HQ run,” as Cara calls them, Atikéa put together an animated hologram depicting just what we would be doing.
She pointed to a door at the back of the prison. “I’ll make sure the door’s open and wait right outside with the getaway vehicle. Jaerin’s contact on the inside will disable all the security cameras for fifteen minutes after your quartet’s performance. That’s your window to find Dámiul.”
