Survive

by Vera Nazarian

  I am safe.

  When we come apart, long moments later, resurfacing into the real world, aware suddenly of the crowd of people around us, and some of them even staring at us—at the Imperial Crown Prince publicly devouring his Bride—none of it matters.

  “Congratulations!” Aeson says with a joyful laugh, looking into my dazed eyes. “Citizen, Champion, Imperial Bride, im amrevu Gwen!”

  “It really is done, Aeson!” I whisper. “I survived—and won, and so did several of my teammates!”

  I turn to smile at Aeson’s guard who still holds my Grails politely. Thanking him, I take them back, since they are mine to bear. I turn the grail chalices in my fingers almost absentmindedly, too anxious to give them my full attention or notice the fine details—plenty of time for that later in the privacy of our home—then press them to my chest.

  And then I remember and look around frantically. “Oh no, Lolu! And Chihar! Both of them lost the tiebreaker, and I don’t know where they are! I must speak to them both, I need to help—”

  Aeson nods and says, “I understand. And we will help them, as soon as possible. They’ve likely left the venue, so we’ll contact them tomorrow, plenty of time—”

  “Oh God, Lolu’s mother is desperately ill, she may have no time!” I exclaim, feeling short of breath again as a strange panic grips me. “Tomorrow might be too late for her, too late, Aeson! She desperately needs medical care, she cannot be allowed to die!”

  “Then we will locate them immediately,” he replies in a calm voice. His gaze is profound, and I sense that he understands me so well, understands exactly why I’m panicking now.

  In contrast, there is laughter all around us. I hear the elevated voices of other Champions and their companions, animated speech, jokes, exclamations, congratulations. . . . Media representatives surround the lobby and some Champions are being interviewed on the spot for various networks. Hel-Ra reporters speak with Kokayi Jeet, who giggles loudly and continues to grab the back of his head, his braids swinging, while hugging both his Grails against his chest with one arm. Then he raises the Grails overhead and gesticulates wildly, holding them up for the world to see. Hedj Kukkait is talking to someone from Grail Games Daily, Tiago’s popular show.

  Kateb laughs, striking a pose, with his arms around a slim, tall woman with long gilded hair who must be his wife, and waving at someone else from the media feeds who aims a recording device at him. Leetana and Ukou are signing digital autographs with their fingertips. Rea grins and bends down to tousle the hair of a little girl, while Rurim Kiv once again raises both his Grails, then kisses them with a comical exaggerated sensuousness before reporters. Mineb is hugging several small children and other members of his family. . . .

  Meanwhile, the Imperial guards surround Aeson and me, keeping back the public onslaught, only permitting other Champions and their entourages to mingle near us. I see from the corner of my eye as, right behind me, Brie Walton talks loudly in her typical insolent tone with Logan Sangre. He remains businesslike and serious even now, displaying no emotion as he attends to her, periodically checks his wrist comm, then turns around as a network reporter moves in to interview Brie, the other Earthie Champion in these Games.

  I catch Logan’s gaze, and he briefly sees me, then makes a polite nod in my direction, and also a perfect military nod to Aeson. Yes, Logan is definitely all-business, all the time.

  “. . . how does it feel, Champion Walton, as a Gebi refugee, to have gone through this quintessential Atlantean event?” the reporter asks in an excited voice.

  “Oh, it’s been a bunny-rabbit delight,” Brie responds, opening her eyes wide and raising her brows. “I highly recommend it—to you and everyone you know or wish you didn’t—definitely put it on your bucket list!” And then she whirls around in my direction. “Right, Lark? Hey, you should interview her, she’s your Imperial Princess! Me, I’m just a jailbird who’s broken out, finally—right, Mister Sangria? I mean, Correctional Officer Sangre—”

  The reporter whirls to Logan. “Is this true? Is Champion Gabriella Walton being released from incarceration?”

  “Yes, of course. She’s now a Citizen,” Logan replies in a cool voice, without a pause. “She has earned her freedom, will be occupying her own residence starting tonight, and we’re complying with the regulations as dictated by law—”

  “Imperial Lady Gwen Lark!” I turn to see another persistent reporter waving at me past Aeson’s guards. “Congratulations on your glorious win, and may we have a statement from you for Winning the Grail, and book an appearance on this week’s episode?”

  “Imperial Lady Gwen! Hel-Ra would like to interview you for prime time at your convenience—” Yet another reporter pushes from another direction. “With the permission of the Imperial Prince, of course, in fact it would be an honor to interview both of you, to have you recount your profound experiences of these Games, as the Imperial Kassiopei—”

  I part my lips, nod silently.

  “Yes, later,” Aeson responds on my behalf. “My Imperial Bride has endured enough excitement for today and needs to recuperate. Contact the Palace through the proper channels in regard to any appearance scheduling. We are done here!”

  “Yes . . .” I echo. And then I turn away from the reporter to glance briefly at my fellow Champions. “Everyone!” I say loudly. “I’ll see you later, Brie—and Kokayi, Kateb!”

  Kokayi hears and turns to me with his flashing grin. “What? Leaving already, amrevet? How about a whirlwind celebration? I’ll show you my favorite local dancing spots—”

  But I smile and shake my head tiredly. “See you soon, Kokayi. Go celebrate, my friend, you truly earned it!”

  Then I return my attention back to Aeson. “Please, let’s get out of here.”

  We leave the Khemetareon building in a hurry, past the gathered crowds outside, surrounded by our personal guards—for which I’m genuinely grateful, for once. As we walk toward the parking area, Aeson brings me up to speed on what’s been happening in the “real world” while I was in the Final Ceremony.

  “Several new SPC reports, some unexpected news about a certain object—all of it coming in just as all of you were being proclaimed Champions.” And he motions at the data band of his wrist comm.

  “Oh, no!” I say breathlessly, keeping pace with his fast stride. “What now? Something else terrible happened? Must’ve been so frustrating for you, having to sit through that long Ceremony! What’s the time now?”

  “It’s close to fourth hour,” he says, taking my hand in his and holding it protectively, and to calm me, while I rearrange my Grails to keep them in the crook of one arm. “Not exactly terrible, but—more in the car. Let’s return home and eat dea meal and—Ah, there’s Ker and Xel—”

  Aeson waves to the two familiar figures of the astra daimon, as they join us, and we all walk rapidly to the hover cars.

  “So, a new Citizen and a Champion—must be a relief, eh, Imperial Lady Gwen?” Keruvat asks with a warm smile, craning his neck at me. “You looked good up there!”

  “She certainly shone!” Xel adds, with a smile of his own. “Nicely done!”

  And then both of them glance at Aeson.

  “You saw the advance scout landing reports, I gather?” Xel says, switching to serious mode.

  “Oh, yes.” Aeson too, is wearing his controlled expression. “Remarkable and confusing.”

  “In the car?” Ker asks.

  “Right.” Aeson turns to our guards and makes an arrangement so that someone else can drive his personal two-seater vehicle and the vehicles of the daimon, while we all take a larger hover car used by the guards, so that both Xelio and Keruvat can ride in the same car with us.

  “Privacy filter on?” Ker says as soon as we get in—Aeson and I in the front seat, Ker and Xelio behind us, and four guards in the third and fourth rows. “Just in case any stray nano-cams followed us in. . . .”

  Aeson merely nods and touches the surface of the navigation panel, so that
hair-thin gold lines appear, run across the perimeter of the vehicle, and then settle into a barely audible hum.

  “Aeson . . .” I say softly. “I realize how critical things are, but . . . before we go, you promised to find Lolu Eetatu for me, and also Chihar, my teammates. I’m so sorry to bring this up, I know it’s a really bad time, but—” I trail off, feeling terribly guilty about having to distract Aeson at a time like this, but at the same time prodded by a sense of desperate urgency returning to overwhelm me.

  He looks at me, and at once his expression becomes gentle. “Not at all. Let me make the arrangements now, on behalf of Lolu Eetatu’s mother.”

  “Oh? What’s this?” Xelio asks. But Ker taps him on the thigh with a knowing look.

  And so, we wait for several long moments while Aeson messages his staff, then looks up at me. “It’s done,” he says. “They will locate the Eetatu family, find out the nature of her mother’s illness, which medical facility is best equipped to handle it, and I will cover all the expenses. Wherever she is, Lolu is being contacted right now.”

  I put a hand over my mouth, holding back a sudden welling of tears. “Aeson . . . thank you,” I whisper.

  “As for your other teammate, Chihar Agwath, will tomorrow do? Since his situation is not as urgent.”

  Silently, I nod, unable to form words. Gratitude fills me with a warm flood, and tears are now pouring in long trails down my cheeks. Then I take a deep, shuddering breath to quell the flow and blink away the tears so that I can smile with all my heart at im amrevu. Meanwhile, he leans in and puts his arm around me in the most wonderful way.

  “All right now?” he asks, his lips near my ear, his breath and his soft golden hair brushing my cheek.

  “Yes, oh yes. . . . Everything is all right now,” I reply. “At least in that regard. Now, please continue with your own work, the reports and whatever news of—the moon?”

  Aeson straightens and glances behind us at Keruvat and Xelio, who are watching us patiently. “Now, regarding the moon—” He sings the sequence to start the hover car, and we lift off, rising into the white afternoon sky over Poseidon.

  “The SPC landing parties?” I ask, sniffling and wiping the remaining tears with the back of my hand.

  “ . . . could not land,” Aeson finishes my sentence with a hardening expression, his gaze on the flight lane before us.

  “Huh?” I furrow my brow. “What does that mean?”

  Aeson sighs and looks at me, then again glances behind him at Ker and Xel. “According to the vanguard Pilots, multiple reports confirm that as the shuttles approached the moon, they encountered no atmospheric resistance—despite a visible layer of haze suggesting a gaseous atmospheric presence around the moon. They kept going and approached the surface. Braked to land and—kept going. The shuttles found no solid matter, no resistance, and continued flying in sudden darkness of what looked like interior rock layers until they passed all the way through the moon and emerged on the opposite side.”

  My jaw drops. “What? Is it a hologram?”

  Behind me, Ker shakes his head. “No one knows. Could be a hologram, could be another holo-shield.”

  “Could be something else,” Xel adds.

  “Whatever it is, the moon is unreachable, intangible—a ghost,” Aeson says thoughtfully.

  “If you prefer a poetic description straight out of ancient myth,” Xel says with a bitter laugh, “it’s the Ghost Moon.”

  Chapter 20

  We get back to Phoinios Heights, and my head is spinning with all the crazy information. Ghost Moon! Suddenly all kinds of common, everyday Atlantean references come to “haunt” me, and I start to space out with my usual intense thought process concentration mode—even as we enter the house, and everyone we know surrounds us. Aeson presses my arm and steps back to let the others greet me, while he himself goes to check a nearby computer display where Oalla and Erita have been scrolling through data in our absence.

  “Gwenie! Oh, Gwenie! Congratulations!” Gracie cries, coming to hug me, with Laronda not far behind.

  “We watched everything on TV, saw you up there! You done good, girl!” Laronda exclaims, squeezing me so hard I can barely breathe, while the two Grails clank together in my arms. “And look at you, not one but two Grails! And your uniform is still lit up, so shiny and crazy-White in that fancy-schmancy Champion neon! How long will it glow like that?”

  “Not sure. It’ll probably start to fade soon.” I smile.

  “Oh my God, let me see—” Gracie reaches for the large Yellow Grail and takes it from my fingers, while Laronda snatches the small White Grail and examines it closely.

  Now that my hands are free, I turn and give Chiyoko and Hasmik a series of huge hugs. Then I see Oalla, Dawn, Erita, and an unfamiliar, tall, full-figured young woman dressed in a conservative Atlantean business outfit, the kind I’ve seen on the media worn by authority figures. She has astute eyes that are somewhere between hazel and green, strong features, and shoulder-length soft wavy hair of a natural blond shade that is definitely not dyed but can pass for the fashionable gilded look. Her sharp expression does not soften even a bit as she looks at me while Erita introduces her as Arbiter Tamira Bedut.

  “A pleasure to meet you in person, Imperial Lady Gwen,” Tamira tells me in a confident low voice. “I am here to make sure all your final legal documentation in regard to Citizenship is filed correctly.”

  “Oh,” I say. “I thought I was already officially a Citizen?”

  Tamira nods. “You are. This is merely a technical formality that is a necessary part of the process. All the other Games Champions must file identity change documents with our Grand Courts, which can be done with or without Arbiters. I’m at your service, and everything is ready for your signatures. It will only take a few minutes of your time, after which I will leave at once to file them before this work day ends—”

  “Okay, give the Imperial Lady a moment to rest before you drown her with that boring stuff, Tam,” Erita interrupts, rolling her eyes slightly at Tamira. “Yes, you live to work, you’re a perfectionist and it’s what I still adore about you, and why you’ve been retained here, but really—slow down. . . . It’s been a long day for her, and for all of us, to be honest.”

  Tamira turns to give Erita a slightly chilly but entirely professional glance. “Very well. But expediting this process is for the Imperial Lady’s own benefit. Filing today is best.”

  “We know. Just—in the name of all deities—” Erita shakes her head. “Let her sit down at least. Have a drink. You too.”

  I stand and watch them bicker somewhat oddly and exchange glances with Dawn, who looks on with curious amusement. I recall that Dawn and Blayne have been meeting and working with this Arbiter on my behalf, for weeks, but I never had the chance to meet her in person until today. And then, as Dawn mouths silently, “She’s her ex,” I remember being told that Erita and Tamira were in a relationship once, but it ended on an unhappy note, due to irreconcilable personality clashes.

  While I space out for a moment thinking about it, Tamira shakes her head in frustration, excuses herself politely, then goes to get a drink from the side table.

  Erita makes a sarcastic grunt and winks at me, then joins Aeson and the other daimon who are nearby, talking intensely in slightly lowered voices and checking the data feeds on their wrists and on the large computer. I’m guessing that Tamira Bedut is not a part of their inner circle, hence the discretion. I may be wrong, of course.

  The estate staff is readying the dea meal service for us on side tables all around the perimeter of the room, and the wonderful aroma of many savory dishes sizzling in pans, with their exotic spices, overwhelms my senses. I feel a stab of intense hunger and impatience fueled by nervous exhaustion.

  But first, I need to find out more of what’s going on with the Ghost Moon.

  I glance at a nearby sofa where Blayne and Gordie are watching a hovering TV screen with the sound turned down. Seeing me stare, my brother waves me o
ver to see what they’re watching. Apparently, it’s multiple screens with post-Games coverage and highlights of all of us Champions at the Final Ceremony, various betting results, and final score stats analyses. A closeup of Aeson and me kissing passionately in the lobby afterwards is prominently featured, together with similar emotional clips of other Champions greeting their loved ones. Mixed in sparingly is the other news—urban crowds still outside, and yes, a few talk panel programs speculating on the strange object in the sky. Oddly enough, no one has used the obvious term to refer to the object.

  “Weird, huh?” Gordie points to a feed showing panelists arguing about the “nebulous cluster” or the “glowing mirage” and even an “unseasonal localized aurora.”

  “I bet they’re specially instructed not to bring up ‘Ghost Moon,’” Blayne says. “The SPC teams only figured out this morning that it’s an orbiting moon—this news is so fresh it’s steaming. Maybe once the authorities make an official statement, they will get the go-ahead. Who knows? We still don’t know to what extent the media is controlled by official propaganda channels.”

  “What about foreign or international feeds?” I ask.

  “Same thing,” Blayne replies. “From what we can tell, New Deshret news is not saying anything yet either.”

  “Yeah,” Gordie says with a glance in Aeson’s direction. “Your fiancé is in charge of the SPC, and they’re still working on it, so no official statement anywhere until he says so.” And Gordie makes an ambiguous noise, which is his way of expressing admiration.

  I sigh, pat my brother on the shoulder, then head over to join Aeson and the astra daimon.

  Half an hour later, nothing else conclusive about the Ghost Moon has been discovered. The consensus is that the moon is either in a different quantum phase or shielded. Aeson explains to me that more pilot teams are being dispatched, together with more instruments and probes, to measure trace radiation and quantum fluctuations. Until they get a better, more conclusive data set and then consult with other heads of state, there can be no official word to the global media—which leaves only the unofficial channels with their vague speculations. At this point, they’ve been so blatantly avoiding the Ghost Moon terminology that it has to be intentional.