“Why would people agree to be watched?” I lean against the twisted trunk.
“If someone falls ill or has an accident, the monitors send a message with their location as well as images to make them easier to find.”
I bite down on my lip. Carolina has to know about this network of cameras. Her underground monitoring station must have somehow grafted itself onto a similar communication system.
The scent of the flowers become cloying, and we continue to a large, sprawling pond where four-and-a-half-foot-tall birds with hooked, black beaks stand around the banks feeding on something in the shallow water. I want to say they’re flamingos, but they’re a fluorescent green.
Gemini stops walking and frowns at the birds.
“Why do they think your father is a traitor?” I blurt.
She turns to me, her pale eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You’re the first person who didn’t call him that.”
People in Rugosa get arrested for all kinds of reasons, few of which are actually crimes. Guards throw out words like treason, sedition, and subversion, without defining them. Even looking at a guard funny can get a person locked up if the guard is in a bad mood. I rock back and forth on my feet, struggling with how to phrase what I want to say.
I shrug. “It’s hard to accuse someone without any of the facts.”
“They let me visit his cell.” She blinks, releasing the tears, then wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
I believe her. The fading scars on my back are a testament to the unfair punishments. Ten lashes for catapulting stones at a guard harassing an innocent girl. After the second whipping, I made sure that no guard would ever identify me as his attacker.
We walk a wide perimeter around the large birds and stop at a wooden bench, where we both sit. Considering there might be hidden cameras anywhere, I wait to see if Gemini wants to continue speaking.
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and stares at a pair of birds fighting. The birds bend and straighten their S-shaped necks and swipe at each other with curved beaks. If I had to guess, the taller ones fighting are the males, and the smaller birds with shorter and paler plumage necks are female.
“Queen Damascena ordered him to release some footage from an Amstraad monitor,” she whispers. “Now, he’s being punished for the illegal transmission of confidential data.”
“That’s it?”
As she nods, a tear falls down each cheek.
My chest tightens with the unfairness of her situation. “What would have happened if he refused her request?”
“Prison.” She shrugs. “And enough electro-correction to teach him not to refuse the order of a superior.”
The fighting birds take flight, and we gaze into the tranquility of the pond for several minutes. Morning sun caresses our faces, but it lacks the harsh glare from the Harvester region. There’s a humidity in the air that bathes the sinuses, and clouds hang in the sky. The Oasis would be perfect if it wasn’t for the Nobles and those who enforce their rules.
My stomach growls, and I clutch my middle. Breakfast at home is before sunrise, and my body hungers for something other than Smoky water and coffee.
“We’d better head back for breakfast.” I stand, casting the birds splashing in the water a wistful glance.
Gemini nods and follows me through the grounds and back toward the building. It’s just like the one I saw from the window early yesterday morning. Seven stories tall with large windows on a black roof and wider than my entire street in Rugosa. From behind, it’s impossible to tell that it faces a street.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“Barracks for the Royal Navy.” She turns around and points to a royal insignia I don’t recognize. “Most of them have been deployed to deal with the aftermath of the tsunami beyond the mountains.”
My thoughts pause for a second, and I recall a geography lesson about water-based natural disasters that I thought were irrelevant. Although Phangloria borders the sea, nobody lives beyond the Smoky Mountains. A wall cuts through its foothills to keep out feral animals.
We pass a clump of sunflowers with heads too small to produce edible seeds. I ask, “What happened out there?”
Gemini plucks a flowerhead. “That’s what they’re trying to find out.”
A jolt of panic shoots through my heart, and I glance from left to right. If anyone saw her theft… I shake off those thoughts. What on earth could they possibly do to a girl already under a death sentence?
As we approach a hedge, female voices ring through the air. One person shouts a command, and the others follow. It reminds me of training with the Red Runners.
The twelve Amstraadi girls form two lines of six. One of the girls in the middle, a pale red-head, shouts commands, and the girls respond with synchronized replies. They march forward in unison, punch right and hold.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Amstraad is a military society,” Gemini replies. “Everyone is very disciplined.”
I bite down on my lip and watch their next moves. The girls step forward, thrust a knee up at an invisible opponent, twist away and then back with an elbow strike. Their movements are so fast that they slice the air with whipping sounds.
My throat dries. “They’re so…”
“Formidable?” asks Gemini.
“Dangerous.” I exhale a ragged breath. “Are they soldiers?”
“Everyone in the Amstraad Republic works for the army,” she replies. “Even the people who manufacture all the healthcare devices.”
“Right,” I say, but unease settles in my belly like the spores that cause leaf mold on tomato trees.
It still makes no sense to me that the leaders of Phangloria would allow the Amstraad Republic so much influence when they work so hard to suppress the people who grow their food.
The girls
