Telleo was a whole different issue. We were together. Though even with all the practical stuff aside, I just didn’t feel “that way” about her. Problem is that I think she felt “that way” about me. The best I could hope for was that it wouldn’t become too tricky. I didn’t want to have to have one of those “we’re just friends” conversations because the truth was that we were more than just friends. We were really close. But in a way different from what I think she wanted.
Another strange thing happened, and I’m not sure what it means. I was alone with Genj one night after a long day of work. I was beat. I mean, really beat. Genj was talking about the fishing fleet and how we should start moving some of the fishermen who had been building homes or dumping dado parts back onto the boats to start fishing again. He was right. It made sense. But I was too tired to care. My eyelids kept drooping. I mention that because I wasn’t thinking and said something I regret. I blame it on the fact that I was too tired to think straight. Or that I’m an idiot.
Remember I told you how I’ve been avoiding any talk about the past, only because I didn’t want to have to talk about mine? Well, Genj was talking about the fishing fleet and about how much his wife, whose name was Sharr by the way, loved a particular kind of fish that was rare because it didn’t run that often. It was the first time I had heard Genj mention his wife. I knew from the other tribunal members that she had died years before. Some sort of illness that I didn’t ask too much about. Telleo cared for her until the end. Moman told me it was Telleo’s experience with her mother that had turned her into a healer. So I knew what happened to Sharr, but I never brought her up with Genj. I figured it was a tough subject, so I didn’t go near it. Until that night. Without thinking, I asked, “How come Telleo didn’t get along with her mother?”
Genj sat up straight. I did too. Suddenly I wasn’t so sleepy anymore. What had I said? I wanted to grab the words out of the air and shove them back into my head. I didn’t say anything. I had to prepare for damage control.
“Telleo and Sharr were as close as any mother and daughter could be,” Genj said with authority. “They were more like sisters. When Sharr passed, Telleo was devastated. I didn’t think she’d come around, but she’s a strong girl. She loved her mother very much. Why would you think they didn’t get along?”
There was no way I was going to tell him that Telleo said she and her mother had problems. It was pretty obvious that there had been more going on between those two than Genj realized. Maybe they kept it from him. Whatever. It wasn’t my business, and I didn’t want to spoil his memories, even if they weren’t entirely accurate.
“I must be wrong,” I said quickly. “Telleo doesn’t like to talk about her mother, and I thought that was because they had problems. I see it’s just because she misses her.”
Genj nodded sadly. He bought my explanation. I wasn’t so sure I bought it though. I was learning more about Genj’s family than I wanted to know, and things didn’t quite add up. I decided that it was best left alone. The subject didn’t come up again.
I haven’t added to my journal in a few weeks, mostly because nothing journal-worthy was happening. Work on Rayne continued. The village was slowly taking shape. All was well. I wish I could find the right words to describe how satisfying it all was, but I think you get it. It all felt so right…
Until something very wrong happened. The irony is, it began with something wonderful. Amazing, in fact. No, impossible. I’m not completely sure what to make of it yet. It was an event that can be best described as “a miracle.” I’m serious. But along with the joy came a dark cloud. As I write this now, I still don’t know how dark it will get. But I will know, and soon.
We had been working really hard. My crew was exhausted. It was hot. Hotter than usual. It was midday and we had put the finishing touches on yet another hut. By that afternoon a family would be moving in. That was always cause for celebration. Since we had been working so hard, and there were only a few hours left in the day, I gave my guys the rest of the afternoon off. I told them to relax. Go for a swim. Take a nap. Anything. They had been doing a great job and deserved it.
There was another reason why I wanted the afternoon off. I wanted to go to the flume site. As I’ve written before, I’d been down there several times just to make sure it was definitely, positively out of reach. Each time, that was confirmed. Then days would pass and I’d begin to wonder again. On that particular afternoon the nagging little feeling started tickling my brain again. It was time to pay another visit to confirm what I already knew. What can I say? I’m obsessive. I’ll probably be checking the flume for the rest of my life.
I walked to the beach alone. The new huts hadn’t gotten close to the shore yet. It would be months before we broke ground on the outermost circle of Rayne. I had the beach to myself. I walked along the shore, feeling anxious. More so than anytime before. I looked up into the sky to see if there were any ravens circling. All I saw were puffy white clouds. I was alone. I got to the rocks that led up to the mound that covered the flume, and climbed. The last time I had done that, Saint Dane was waiting for me on top. I didn’t want a repeat performance. I climbed anxiously and popped my head up over the edge to see…
Nothing. No evil demons in sight. Big relief. I climbed up onto the flat summit and kicked around a few rocks. I didn’t know what I was looking for. A hole that might lead down to the flume? A crack that could be worked on and opened up? A staircase? An elevator? I had no idea, and ended up finding the exact same thing I’d found on every trip-nothing. The flume was sealed tight.
I turned to begin the climb back down and finally did see something that was out of the ordinary. It was floating about a hundred yards offshore. It had already made its way through the two fingers of land that nearly enclosed the Bay of Rayne, and it was headed toward the village. At first I thought it was a small boat that one of the fishermen had taken out, but it was too small for that. The shape was all wrong too. It wasn’t a boat. It took a few seconds for me to realize what I was looking at.
It was a skimmer. The same kind of skimmer that Saint Dane had brought from Cloral by the thousands to transport the dados from Rubic City to attack Rayne. I stood staring at the craft, trying to understand why it was there. It wasn’t under power, that much was clear. It was drifting in the current, moving closer to shore. I thought that it might have been one of the skimmers that we had scuttled out at sea when we dumped all the wreckage from the beach. Maybe it had somehow floated to the surface and was now a piece of loose debris that we would need to haul back out.
I was wrong. As the craft got closer, I saw that someone was on board. At least I thought it was someone. It was hard to tell. Skimmer pilots controlled the craft while standing up. Whoever was on that skimmer was definitely not standing. In fact, they looked as if they were lying out flat on the deck. Whoever or whatever it was, it wasn’t controlling the skimmer.
I quickly scrambled down the rocks. The whole way down I feared what I might find. Was it another dado that had somehow gotten lost and was only now showing up for the battle? Was it a Flighter who was making an attempt to land on Ibara? Was this something we should be afraid of, or just another piece of carnage left over from the battle? I had to force myself to stop worrying and concentrate on climbing down the steep rocks. Falling would have been dumb. And painful.
I hit the sand and ran the rest of the way to the water. The craft was about fifty yards offshore. I could now see that there was a body on board, facedown. It didn’t look like a dado. The hair was too long. Dados didn’t have long hair. Robot hair didn’t grow. I figured it must have been a Flighter. Whoever it was, the guy was in bad shape. Or dead. I was torn. Should I go out and drag the thing to shore? I didn’t want to be helping anyone who might cause trouble. But there was only one person aboard. Flighters traveled in packs, like wolves. It might not have been a Flighter, but somebody from Rayne who somehow got cast adrift. One thing was sure: If the person was alive, they needed help. I decided to risk it. I ran into the water and did the crawl out to the craft, always keeping my head above water and my eyes on the skimmer. Junior Lifeguard training never leaves you.
The closer I got, the more detail I could make out, but I still couldn’t tell if it was a guy or a girl. Whoever it was had long blond hair. Their clothes were in shreds. There was a definite Flighter vibe going on. I suddenly felt vulnerable. If this was a trick, the Flighter could easily jump up, gun the engine, and run me over. I stopped about five yards away and treaded water.
“Hello?” I called. “You okay?”
The body stirred.
“Can you talk?” I called.
The victim lifted his chin. The blond hair fell in front of his face. He twisted his head, as if trying to understand where my voice was coming from.
“Who are you?” I called.
