after all.
–
Cassius walked the hallway in silence. Before he could take the last few steps to Madame’s office, her door swung open. A brown-haired boy stepped out, a determined frown on his face. Their eyes met for a moment, but the boy pushed past Cassius without a word and took off down the hall. Cassius turned to watch him round a corner and disappear.
He was young. Too young to be in her office.
Cassius caught the door before it shut entirely and slipped into the office. Madame sat behind her desk, speaking on a headset.
“I understand, Prime Minister.” Her voice was calm, though she spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes,” she answered. “I know it is a larger fee than you’d prefer, but you need to understand what we’re dealing with. Shippers are crossing the Skyline more and more frequently. It’s as if the treaty means nothing to them.”
She flipped the headset outward so Cassius could hear the Prime Minister’s voice. It was muffled, but he could still hear the man’s thick cockney accent. “If they’re breaking the law, why not arrest them?”
Madame sighed, bringing the headset back to her ear. “If it were up to me we’d do more than arrest them, but the President is fearful of a war. We need Pearls, Mr. Hughes. We’re not crammed together on an island like the Commonwealth. We’re spread out, surrounded by miles and miles of Fringe Towns. Granted, it gives us more landing space… greater access. But Fringers are teaming with Shippers, and the Unified Party must have Pearls to stay strong. My terms remain fixed.” She paused, motioning for Cassius to take a seat beside her desk. “Fine,” she muttered, and flipped off the headset, giving a great sigh.
“Cassius.” She removed the earpiece and glanced over to him. “You’re early.”
“Who was that?” He motioned to the doorway.
She frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That boy,” he replied, “that just left your office.”
She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, don’t you worry about that.”
Cassius turned back to the door. He was worried. Madame never let students into her office. Cassius was the exception. The only exception.
And that’s the way it needed to stay.
Madame opened a drawer beside her and pulled out a small black bag. “Prime Minister Hughes wishes for more leniency from the Unified Party.” She set the bag on the table. “It seems the European Commonwealth has fallen on hard times. They’re attempting to mimic Canada’s Polar Cities in Scandinavia. He reckons the project would move faster with Pearl Power.”
Cassius knew that the Polar Region, with its Arctic Ocean, was the most stable and desirable area on the planet. It would be in the Unified Party’s interest to keep the Commonwealth from building there.
Madame leaned forward in her chair. “It’s not my fault their piddly little country is low on landing space. I upped the fee to eight million euros per Pearl. He is not a happy Englishman.”
Cassius smiled. Pearls targeted land, and North America was one of the biggest chunks of civilized land left. A large percentage of Pearls fell in Unified Party territory. And with the recent purchase of Africa’s landing space, Madame could ask whatever she wanted for them. Europe would have to pay.
“We should have never sold them the schematics to our stasis equipment.” She unhooked the bag’s top buckle. “But it was not my decision to make. McGregor was in charge then. I’m more worried about the Fringers now. Reports came in this morning that a town in south Texas got their hands on a disk of stasis schematics from Skyship agents. I’ve sent down a troop to level the entire community if necessary. If Fringers find a way to harvest Pearl energy it’s all over. It’s bad enough that they’re trading with the Seps.”
She sighed, reaching into the bag and removing three items. Cassius watched as she set a pistol, a Skyship passport, and a folded suit on the desk in front of him. “This is all you’ll have to rely on in your search for Fisher,” she started. “The pistol is constructed entirely from plastic and filled with a trace of diluted Pearl energy. It is twenty times more effective than any bullet and, more importantly, won’t register on any Skyship scanners.
“The second item,” she continued, “is your passport. It will get you onto Skyship Polaris once we’ve left the Tribunal meeting. From there you’ll board a ship to the Academy. For security purposes, your name will be Michael Stevens. I’ve uploaded details onto your com-pad. Study them. You will be questioned.”
Cassius ran his eyes over the three items, a lump in his throat. “And the suit?”
“As I told you in the infirmary, you’ll be arriving at the Academy on Visitation Day. You’ll need to be presentable, without a government seal in sight.”
Cassius frowned as he looked over at the pistol, picturing situations that would force him to use it. “You’re sure this is a good idea? You’re sure I won’t get caught?”
“My methods don’t fail,” she replied. “If you get caught, it will be through fault of your own. But we’ve trained you well, Cassius. I’m not worried.”
“But what if-”
“Fire?” She interrupted, seemingly reading his mind. “That’s what the medication is for. Listen. Don’t concern yourself with what ifs. It’s a hole you won’t be able to dig yourself out from. We’ll discuss your journey from Atlas to the Academy in detail, as many times as it takes for you to feel comfortable. And if you are still nervous, let it be a lesson. You disobeyed me, Cassius. Stole a shuttle and went outside the Net. Actions have consequences.” She grabbed the pistol and stuffed it inside of the bag.
Cassius struggled to think of a response. An apology would feel pointless and insincere. Madame seemed more resolute and hardened than usual, as if she was on a race to defuse a time bomb before it exploded. No time to hold hands or take baby steps.
One thing he could be certain of: this mission was starting to feel more and more like punishment.
8
A detonation ball whizzes past my shoulder, missing me by a fraction of an inch. I hurl my body behind a crumbling brick wall and slow my frantic breathing. An eerie quiet falls over the battlefield. Then several detonations puncture the stillness. Someone swears. It’s nobody on my team, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe.
Nine a.m.
I’m not sleeping. I’m not eating breakfast, either. No, I’m up to my ankles in sweat and frustration. It’s Bunker Ball time. Mr. Wilson said he wanted to see how some of us Year Nines worked as a team. I’m convinced he just wants to punish me.
The joys of Bunker Ball should be reserved for convicted felons. Instead, the teachers gleefully strap up two teams of teenagers with detonator pellets and set us against each other. It’s a full-blown war zone without the casualties, unless loss of dignity counts as a casualty. It’s all good for Mr. Wilson, though. He gives us the whole war experience without the danger.
“Fisher!” Wilson’s voice reverberates through the speakers in the ceiling. “Move your butt!”
I groan. He’s perched up on the balcony, watching our every move. Worse yet, he’s pitted us against Year Sevens. Thirteen-year-olds. And it’s a testament to our supreme suckability that we’re still losing.
One of the Year Sevens slumps over to the bench at the border of the training field. We’re finally even.
Manjeet and Paulina, two kids in my year, sit beside him. I’m happy not to be the first one out today, but those two are pretty much super-geniuses, so it’s not like they’ve gotta be good at this combat stuff. Besides, I’m only alive because I’m a good hider. The whole “battlefield” of sand dunes, brick walls, and bushy trees they’ve constructed is supposed to make things more challenging. I just use it to hide. I’m not completely without my merits.
I pass behind a massive boulder, drawing my arms inward to become less of a target. The training landscape changes each time we’re in here. Sometimes it’s a dense forest, other days a demolished cityscape. Today it’s something in between. I think they were going for a desert theme, but there’s also random walls and trees and stuff. Kind of impractical. I’m not exactly sure what this is supposed to be teaching us.
Skandar rushes past me, grabbing my arm and half-yanking me to the ground before I regain my balance and run alongside him.
