Starglass

“Does the Council know he’s been trained to do Jacobi’s work?” I asked, leaning forward. Koen gave his head a sharp shake.

“Of course not. How would they?”

I thought of the way the knife’s blade looked as it drew across Jacobi’s throat. Then I glanced at Van. The skin of his own neck was very white under his ruddy stubble. He looked confident as he stood with his back against the railing, gazing out at us. I wouldn’t have been so self-assured if I had information that the Council wanted.

The sound of ?Van’s voice brought my consciousness slamming back into my body.

“What news do we have since our last meeting?” he asked. A woman who stood near the stairs shouted out to him, eager to have her voice heard.

“I’ve heard word that the Council destroyed the probes!” she said. “They’re claiming they were lost, but there’s been no evidence.” There was a fevered rush of agreement. Van lifted up his hands for silence.

“Our leadership is well aware that the Council destroyed the first exploratory probes. We’re working on a contingency plan should Wolff and her cohort follow through with the destruction or suppression of a second set of probe results.”

A wave of grumbles worked its way through the balcony. After a moment it died down again. I saw Rebbe Davison raise his hand.

“How many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t school, Mordecai?”

Laughter rippled all around him. At last Rebbe Davison stood, chuckling at himself. He held a heavy book.

“I’ve been researching the history of the ship’s contracts. The powers currently held by the Council were not in the contract signed by the original passengers. They only specified the Council ruling from departure to landing. But that was changed in our grandparents’ generation. Perverted by Wolff’s predecessor, I presume.”

Hearing my teacher speak so cavalierly of our leaders gave me an unexpected thrill. Goose bumps shivered their way down my arms. He opened up the book to a marked page and began to read.

“?‘Article 10.2, revision C. For the continued safety and assurances of the population of the Asherah, the captain’s powers shall extend from the time of departure through landing and settlement of Epsilon Eridani S/2179 D, colloquially known as “Zehava,” until he or she, in wisdom and with the full consent of the Council, deems it prudent to relinquish said powers. Upon relinquishment the Council shall establish a representative democracy in accordance with article 19.0 and the intentions of the original signers of this great contract.’?”

“?‘Deems it prudent,’?” Van said as Rebbe Davison slammed the book shut. Then Van repeated his sour words, louder this time. They echoed under the rafters, against the walls of books. “?‘Deems it prudent’! For how long will we live like children because the Council says they know what’s best for us?”

All around me the men and women nodded, murmured words of assent. Mar Schneider even pumped his wrinkled old hand through the air. I felt something alien. My chest flooded with a wave of excitement. For the first time in my life, I wanted to nod, shout, pump my fist too.

“They picked our jobs for us! They choose where we live. And if we drag our feet too much, they’ll even choose who we love.”

“Yeah,” Koen said. I studied his features. His broad mouth was open, the corners lifted in breathless excitement.

Liberty on Earth . . . The words rattled around my brain. I could feel them against my tongue like some sort of honey treat.

For the very first time I understood what they truly meant.

“It’s even up to them if we live in the dome or walk free on Zehava,” I said, but too low. At first I didn’t think that anyone heard me over the jumble of agitated conversation. But Van’s sharp ears practically pricked up at the sound of my voice. He turned toward me.

“Terra Fineberg,” he said, smiling slyly. “What did you say?”

I felt my face flush. But I wasn’t afraid of ?Van. I lifted my chin, looking squarely at him. “Mara Stone told me that if the Council decides we can’t live on Zehava, then they’ll pilot the dome to the surface and we’ll continue to live inside it.”

There was a sudden frenzy of dismayed conversation.

“That can’t be!” cried Mar Schneider. Beside me, Koen’s mouth fell open in disbelief. But from the sofa in the corner, Laurel spoke up.

“It’s true,” she said. “They’ve given each of the pilots a course in dome flight. It’s the only possible answer. Why else would they destroy the probe results?”

Van stared. His lips were set firmly, taking it all in. “This is the first I’ve heard of it,” he said. He sounded as if he couldn’t quite believe that this news had passed him by. He beckoned us toward him. “Terra, Laurel, please come speak to me.” Then he looked out to the rest of the crowd.

“That’s all for tonight, folks.” He touched two fingers to his heart. “Liberty on Earth.”

A chorus of voices lifted toward him. I was surprised to find my own voice joining in. “Liberty on Zehava!”

* * *

After the meeting Koen and I waited on one of the sofas while Van spoke in hushed tones to Laurel Selberlicht. Most of the other citizens had left already, though Rebbe Davison continued to chatter on with a pair of men by the stairwell, the book of contracts tucked under his arm. I watched him for a long time. His hands flashed through the air in excitement, just like they had when he’d lectured us in school.

“I can’t believe Rebbe Davison is part of all of this,” I said. Koen sat forward, his hands folded beneath his chin.

“Hmm?”

“Rebbe Davison. You know, our teacher? Who taught us everything there is to know about being a good citizen?”

“Oh, yeah,” Koen said, letting out a burst of awkward laughter. “I guess it is weird. Never thought of it before.”

I frowned at him, following the line of his eyes. They were fixed on Van. The librarian had at long last dismissed Laurel, who touched her fingers to her heart before she hustled down the stairs. Now he collapsed in a nearby armchair. He didn’t so much sit in the leather seat as sprawl, his limbs forming weird angles: one leg over the chair’s arm, one muscular arm over the chair’s back.

“So, Terra?” he called to me. “Is it true?”

I marched toward him, my chin angled up and firm. It felt good to know something that Van Hoftstadter didn’t.

“That’s what Mara Stone told me. If conditions on Zehava aren’t favorable for our settlement—or if the Council says they’re not—we’re to stay within the dome.”

“Hmm,” Van said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And we can believe Stone? She has made it abundantly clear she’s not one of us.”

“She’s not one of them, either,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Koen rake his fingers awkwardly through his hair.

“Mar Fineberg did say not to trust her,” Koen said.

“Well,” Van said, at last sitting up straight, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded me, “our leaders will appreciate this information.”

“Who are the leaders of the Children of Abel, anyway?” I asked.

“That’s a dangerous question to ask,” Van said. He narrowed his eyes down to slivers.

I blanched. “Sorry,” I said, turning toward the stairs to leave before Van noticed how pink my cheeks had become. But then I saw that Koen hadn’t moved to follow.

“Are you coming?”

I watched as a faint blush blossomed across the bridge of his nose too.

“I need to talk to Van about something,” he said.

“Suit yourself.”