“Yeah.”
“Like, from the top of the building?”
“That’s the one.”
He pushes my shoulder, nearly sending me flying onto the pavement. “You’re such a weirdo.”
I want to press the issue, but then I realize how ridiculous it sounds. Jesse Fisher, least promising agent-in- training at Skyship Academy, falls off a twelve-story building without a scratch on him. I’m not so sure I didn’t imagine the whole thing myself.
“Next time.” Skandar shakes his head. “We’ll have our revenge next time, right Fisher?”
Eva checks the nearest alleyway for trouble before entering. “With our track record, there won’t be a next time. Now keep on alert. Apparently this city isn’t as deserted as Wilson said it was.”
Skandar stops in his tracks. “Fringers?”
“Fringers,” she replies, “unfriendly ones. Fisher already got a taste.”
He crosses his arms. “You got to have all the fun, didn’t you mate?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Fun.”
I plug my nose as we make our way through the alleyway. Trash litters the ground. The heat enhances the already rotten smell, cooking and congealing mystery liquids that run into the dirt in thin streams. We step around the worst of it and funnel into the next street. Patches of brown, crinkly grass sprout from cracks in the pavement before us.
As we cross an empty intersection, I keep my eyes peeled for Fringers, hoping that my attackers were an anomaly-an angry street gang from a neighboring town. The Pearl Traders were friendly enough, content to exchange their discovery for the rations and purification tablets inside our shuttle. Now that we’ve lost the Pearl, all those crates of Skyship food will be marked as lost inventory. Lucky Fringers. Not-so-lucky us.
The top of our transport shuttle comes into view. I half expect it to be decimated. After all, if those guys were so keen on grabbing my belt, they’d lose their marbles over our ship.
The shuttle’s saucer-shaped with three retractable, rusty legs resting on the pavement. It’s the only dash of color on the street-a deep red.
Despite my aching body, I run through the street, eager for the cool, climate-controlled air inside the shuttle. When I reach the front end, I slide open the plastic guard and punch my authorization code into the keypad. The door lifts and three steps tumble out from the bottom. I barely use them. The recycled air hits me immediately. Sanctuary.
Eva and Skandar follow, shutting the door and taking their seats. I fasten my belt as Eva grabs the wheel, flipping the ignition and retracting the landing gear. Then we’re off.
I recline and watch as Syracuse pulls away from us. My eyes linger on the hotel rooftop for a few moments. It juts from the flat brownness, taunting me. Something happened back there. Something unexplainable. That Cassius guy felt it too. He’d looked as unsure as me before he escaped. It wasn’t part of his plan, and it sure as heck wasn’t part of mine.
I close my eyes, letting the adrenaline wash off my body. First trip down to the Fringes and it nearly killed me. I managed to disappoint my teammates and utterly fail our mission objective. Maybe Mr. Wilson will be more forgiving than Eva. Wishful thinking, sure. But wishful thinking is what I live on.
3
Rochester, New York-Chosen City #17
Headquarters of the Unified Party’s Department of Energy Acquisition
Cassius Stevenson strode through the halls of the Lodge with a noticeable swagger. Slung over his shoulder rested the brown pouch containing the Pearl. He hadn’t let it out of his sight since leaving the Fringes. He hadn’t stopped to shower or change clothing. A trail of dust followed him through the hallway. The custodial crew would clean it up.
Even through the burlap, he could feel the warmth of the Pearl on his back. It didn’t burn like the undiluted sun outside. It was a different kind of heat. A mother’s touch, maybe, or a loved one’s embrace. He didn’t have a lot to compare it to, raised the way he was.
He’d been lucky to stumble across a Pearl so easily. Madame would be exceedingly proud, enough to forgive him for breaking the rules and sneaking outside of the Net to get it. On the way to Syracuse, he’d considered turning his ship around several times, but days of tedious simulation training had taken their toll. He needed to get out. Plus, it was fun to see if he could bypass security and do it.
Cassius couldn’t remember life without Pearls. They’d been falling from space since he was a small child, drawn to the parched Earth. Charity from the stars. Some people, like the evangelists of Heaven’s Rain, considered them God’s gift. But Cassius didn’t put much stock in Pearl-worshippers. To him the space rocks were a natural resource, as simple as oil. Back when oil existed, of course.
Pearl energy powered the Bio-Nets that protected and cooled the Chosen Cities, which separated the order and comfort of his home from the blazing chaos of the Fringes. Just one Pearl could power a city for months. He grinned and clutched the bag tighter.
Window after enormous window framed the Lodge’s lush manicured lawns as he continued down the corridor. The sprinkler system had shut off for the evening. The sun lingered at the edge of the horizon.
He knew he was privileged to live where he did, on the outskirts of the city. Those who didn’t work in energy acquisition made do with government-approved living quarters-300 square feet per family. The Bio-Nets were only so big, and cramming everyone into the fifty Chosen Cities required more than a little sacrifice for most folks.
But the extravagance of the Lodge wasn’t without a price. Inside, candidates were prepped to enter the Pearl Retrieval Squad, and harvesting Pearls could be dangerous, especially when Skyshippers found them first.
Cassius scowled. Shippers.
There had always been separatists, even before the bombings. Rebellious factions began to make themselves known mid-century, upset with the government’s increasing secrecy. They were small in number and unorganized, just as the Fringers were now. All they needed was a rallying cry-an event significant enough to bring them together.
The Scarlet Bombings changed everything.
Named for the enormous red clouds that engulfed the six largest American metropolitan centers on that afternoon twenty-two years ago, the chemicals not only killed millions, but continued to plague the country decades later, vaulting the temperature in the Fringes to dangerous levels. Folks back then assumed the clouds were red because of all the blood in the air, the way the chemicals dissolved people. As far as Cassius was concerned, that was a bunch of fear-mongering. Blood wouldn’t float in a cloud.
Regardless, when everything finally settled, the country was left without its leaders. Worse yet, there was no telling when it would happen again, or why America had been attacked in the first place.
The Unified Party sprung from the ashes, an anonymous, efficient protector of an increasingly fragmented country. Retaliation was swift. The President ordered a full-scale assault on all terrorist-harboring countries, blasting entire chunks of Asia and Eastern Europe into rubble.
Cassius knew it was the right call, protecting the country from another attack, but others disagreed. The Separatist movement demanded evidence that retaliation was necessary. When the Unified Party refused to comply, the Seps hijacked the government’s Skyship Program weeks before it was christened and founded a nation above the clouds-the Skyship Community. There was fighting. Some called it a civil war. Then came the Hernandez Treaty. Things hadn’t been the same since.
The conditions of the treaty kept Surface folk and Skyshippers apart-a pair of sovereign states separated by the International Skyline. Travel across the border was unlawful without proper clearance, but for as long as Cassius could remember, he’d been part of a rat race between the Surface and the skies. All for Pearls-the ultimate energy source.
The treaty, of course, was nothing more than a piece of paper. Shippers ignored it, sneaking down to harvest Pearls that legally landed in Surface territory, or trading with Fringers. The President of the Unified Party buried his head in the sand, as nameless and anonymous as when he’d first been appointed. If Cassius knew who the guy
