Astra (12 page)

The hymn unfurled from two hundred throats. To make ‘Shell’ fit, the word ‘shining’ before ‘Sun’ had been taken out. Astra still had the old line in her head, but she chanted the right words and the hymn went off perfectly. When the last syllable faded Mr Watersson gestured for them all to sit again and she made herself comfortable on the floor. The chanting had helped her to breathe deeply and her stomach felt calmer. Onstage, the Second Officer sat back down again too, but the First Officer stepped forward to the front of the stage.

‘Good morning, Golden Bough School,’ she said in a loud, clear voice. ‘And it is a
very
good morning. Today is a historic day for you and for Is-Land. Today the Year One to Year Three students in this hall will be joining a major evolution in national defence, a
conscious revolution
, in fact. Today, as you know, is Security Serum Day. Now, some of you may not like needles, but I know what you do like: Is-Land!’

She and the Second Officer raised their fists in the air: ‘Is-Land!’ they shouted.

‘Is-Land! Is-Land!’ the whole Assembly roared, teachers too. It was tremendous to be shouting together: with each syllable she expelled, Astra felt the remaining tension in her tummy leave her mouth in a stream of little bubbles and burst into nothing at all. It was even okay that Tabby wasn’t there. She would have so much to tell him when she got home.

‘Yes, we all love Is-Land,’ the First Officer continued after the tumult had subsided. ‘Thanks to the noble sacrifices your parents and their parents have made, the children in this school have grown up in our beautiful nation in safety. The infiltrators have all been expelled and Non-Landers are confined now to the Southern Belt. While the task of policing the Belt is not easy, IMBOD is more than capable of meeting it. But in twenty-three years’ time, when the Global Ceasefire ends, Is-Land will face far more dangerous challenges.’

Silvie Higgsdott was wriggling beside Astra. Astra shot her a deadly glance and moved her thigh away. Didn’t Silvie
care
about the future? In twenty-three years’ time she would be – she did the sum in her head –
nearly thirty-one
. When Hokma was thirty-one she had moved into Wise
House and begun work on the Owleons. What would she, Astra, be doing? Would she have her own office at Code House, discovering how to regrow mammalian limbs? Would she be working in Atourne on top-secret Shelltech? Would she be giving IMBOD talks, like the First Officer, tall and confident and glowing?

‘We hope – the whole world hopes,’ the officer went on, ‘that one hundred years without war will have changed humanity. We hope that no nation state will ever again initiate military aggression against its neighbours. But we cannot be sure of that and so we must be prepared. As we all know, IMBOD has been working for the past seven years on developing the Shell: a magnetic defence field that will cover Is-Land like a dome. When completed, and switched on in times of need, the Shell will be capable of repelling any bomb or missile our enemies may try to use against us. The technical details are still classified, but I have been authorised to tell you that the Shell has just passed its first stage of testing with flying colours.’

The officer paused again, so the Assembly could cheer this momentous announcement. Astra cheered too, louder than Silvie on her left, louder than Tedis on her right. Tedis, she saw, was
picking his nose
. Ms Raintree frowned at him and he smeared his finger on his leg. She shifted away from him. Just like Tedis to make the class look bad.

Onstage, the officer flashed her dazzling smile. ‘Mining the rare Shelltech components and building the Shell will be an immense task,’ she told them. ‘It will require the Boundary’s entire outer walls to be clad in Shelltech components, even through the treacherous Southern Belt. Our personnel resources will be stretched to the limit, and we know the Non-Landers will take advantage of any weakness in our ranks. To succeed, the work will require collective skills, courage and dedication on a scale only the earliest Gaian Pioneers could surpass. That is why, in tandem with the Shell, IMBOD has also developed the Security Serum. The Serum will create a new generation of Is-Landers superbly equipped to defend the nation our parents and grandparents sacrificed so much to build. Years One, Two and Three, I am talking to you.’

The officer’s voice rang out against the hall. Astra sat up straight and flexed her biceps. Her armband tightened. Beside her, Tedis and Silvie stopped fidgeting.

‘As Security Generation members, you will be logical, calm and team-spirited – but you will also be fearless warriors. You will excel in all the
traditional fields of Gaian endeavour, but you will also be ideally suited to the new national task that lies ahead of us all: the task of building and maintaining the Shell in the most dangerous conditions imaginable. You will all be
heroes
. For those Is-children
lucky
enough to be in Years One, Two and Three, the best way to show your gratitude is to have your Security shot bravely today, without crying. Because there is
absolutely nothing to cry about any more
. Quite the opposite! The Security shot is a gift from IMBOD’s top scientists to us all.

‘Everyone else, don’t be sad. Your lives will be far safer and simpler thanks to the Security Generation. Teachers, Years Four, Five, Six and Seven: can we clap Years One, Two and Three, please? Can we thank them in advance for the tremendous work they will do for us in the years ahead?’

The two officers and Mr Watersson began to clap. The older children and the teachers joined in, dutifully at first, then, as the First Officer paced across the stage, conducting with her arms, more exuberantly, some whistling and whooping as they realised that a clamour was not only permitted but required. For a moment, as Silvie leaned against her, warm and giggling, Astra forgot that she didn’t deserve the deafening applause. She peeked over her shoulder to see if Torrent was clapping as energetically as he ought to be. But Ms Raintree caught her eye and pursed her lips so she gave up and faced the stage again.

‘
Thank you, Golden Bough School!
’ the First Officer exclaimed over the din. When the applause finally died down, she resumed her speech. ‘Thanks to your enthusiasm and loyalty, thanks to the foresight and hard work of IMBOD’s Serum and Shell scientists, Is-Land
need never fear
that our powerful neighbours may one day turn against us. We
need never fear
that the terror squatters in the Southern Belt will acquire rockets or bombers. Instead, as the decades progress, Is-Land will continue to take its rightful place among the world’s nations, not only as a prime exporter of Code Innovation and Shelltech but, like Garmaland and Himalaya, as a Sacred Land, a CONC-designated haven, safe for all to visit.’

As she finished her speech, the First Officer’s soaring voice and gleaming smile acquired an electrifying sheen. The children yelled ‘Is-Land, Is-Land,’ again, and the teachers stood up and clapped wildly. Ms Raintree even cried – Astra saw her wipe her eyes. Her job done, the First Officer sat down next to the Second Officer and batted her a bashful, sidelong glance, as if to say, ‘How did I do?’

* * *

Back in the classroom, before they started their maths tasks, Ms Raintree spent a few minutes discussing the Assembly. Both the officers were young – they had just finished their IMBOD Service, she told the students. Imagine having such an important responsibility when you were still only twenty! They must have done very well on all their tests. And yes, Tedis, administering Security shots definitely involved maths: graphs, pie charts, schedules and dosages. The officers had undoubtedly done exceptionally well in their maths tests. If you wanted to be as successful as they were when you were twenty, you needed to get your head down now and concentrate on your Tablette exercises. Astra put up her hand, and Ms Raintree said, yes I know you need a school Tablette today, and rolled down the aisle to give her one.

Astra’s desk was by the window. If she glanced sideways she had a perfect view of the IMBOD mobile medical unit parked in the playground; sneaking a look when Ms Raintree was helping Leaf with a sum, she watched a batch of Year Ones enter the unit. As she waited for them to emerge, her stomach began to feel tender and gassy again, and it became even more difficult to concentrate on her equations, even though they were easy. She did her best, but she was falling behind. Silvie or Acorn would get the gold star today.

At last the Year Ones poured out of the unit. Some were proudly examining their Tablettes, showing each other their new certificate uploads; some were punching the air, others were tenderly fingering their shoulders. Kamut Bosonson was crying and holding the Second Officer’s hand as she escorted the children back to their classroom. The First Officer stayed inside the unit. She must be the one injecting the Serum.

Meem was in the next group of students being led across the yard. She was wearing her flap-hat and a faux-grass skirt, and she was skipping and laughing and kicking a pebble until the Second Officer told her not to. Astra’s stomach contracted. Her skin felt hot.
Couldn’t Meem, Yoki and Peat also not have the shot
? she’d asked Hokma, but Hokma had said that giving a group of children a secret was like putting an egg in a washing machine. Besides, the other Or-kids’ Code parents wanted them to have the shot – and even if they didn’t, Hokma’s plan would only work for one child.

Meem disappeared into the van. Astra checked the time. Her Tablette clock read 9:51. The school had emailed Hokma the schedule so she knew it would take another hour to finish the Year Ones, then the Year Twos would start at 11:00: first Mr Banzan’s class, then Ms Raintree’s, so Yoki would get his shot before Astra was supposed to. Peat and the Year Threes would have their shot after siesta.

She tried to do one more sum. But her tummy swelled and squeezed again and the numerals swam together before her eyes. Her skin was burning and her mouth felt dry. Hot bubbles of sweat were bursting out on her forehead. She couldn’t breathe. She gasped for air and her stomach cranked a blazing bolt of pain up towards her heart. She wrapped her arms around her middle and started to cry.

‘Ms Raintree,’ Tedis piped up excitedly, ‘Astra’s going to be sick.’

‘Euw!’ Silvie squealed. The harsh metallic noise of chairs being dragged over the tiled floor scraped the inside of Astra’s skull. Vaguely she sensed Ms Raintree’s cool palm on her brow, but nothing could soothe the fire racing over her or douse the acid flaming in her throat. She was gagging now, in great gulpy hiccoughs, until her ribs ached and her whole body was shaking.

‘Astra, what’s wrong?’ Ms Raintree sounded very far away.

She raised her head. Like an Old World sea monster hurtling out of an underwater cave, a spume of vomit shot from her mouth across the room. Splodgy drops of half-digested waffle splattered over Ms Raintree’s teaching robe and wheelchair arms, Silvie’s curly hair, Tedis’ maths book, her classmates’ desks, the Fractions Family vidboard and the floor. Astra’s face drained of blood and she slumped back down in her seat, her forehead on her desk, her arms still hugging her stomach.

‘Wow!’ Tedis exhaled as Silvie started to shriek. Cries of
eugh
and
yuck
and
no way!
zinged around the room like Tablette ping-balls.

‘Oh, Astra,’ Ms Raintree sighed. ‘Tedis, can you please go and find the caretaker? Tell him he’ll need to bring the mop and some wet cloths. The rest of you, stay here and get on with your sums.’

* * *

After Ms Raintree took Astra to the nurse’s office and helped the nurse clean her up, she phoned Hokma’s Tablette, because Hokma was the School Spoke of the Or Parents’ Committee. Luckily, Hokma just happened to be in New Bangor doing some shopping and she came right away in the Or solar van. By the time her Shelter mother arrived, Astra
had had diarrhoea twice and was lying scrunched up on the nurse’s trolley, moaning. She had ripped off her armband because she couldn’t bear anything touching her skin, and her eyes were half-closed because the light hurt them, but at the same time she didn’t want to miss anything. Hokma – whose dark purple eyepatch made her seem almost as commanding as the First Officer – took one look at her and told Ms Raintree and the nurse and Mr Watersson that the Security shot would have to wait because Astra needed to come home with her right now and recover. Ms Raintree, who had a big wet mark on her robe where she’d washed off Astra’s sick, wasn’t sure about that, because the IMBOD unit was at the school for only one day, and next week it was moving on to the steppes; but Hokma said not to worry: her Birth-Code brother, Dr Samrod Blesserson, was a high-ranking IMBOD medical officer – in fact, he had helped develop the Security Serum in its early stages – and she would take Astra to see him tomorrow.

Then Mr Watersson said, ‘Oh my dewy meadow, Dr Blesserson – I didn’t know you were related – perhaps he might come here and give a talk to the older students, do you think?’ And Hokma explained that when the community name law had been introduced, Samrod – like Mr Watersson, she assumed – had patriotically decided to adapt his Shelter family name, but she hadn’t because while Blesserson had a lovely flow to it, she thought ‘Blesserdott’ sounded like a piece of bad Code splicing. Astra didn’t get the joke, she knew she was supposed to be too sick to ask questions anyway and in fact she
was
still feeling awful, but Mr Watersson and Ms Raintree laughed, and Ms Raintree said she perfectly understood, she herself had decided that Raintreedott was a bit of a mouthful. Then the teacher added, quietly, ‘Please thank your brother for me,’ because one of his Code treatments for post-traumatic stress syndrome had been very helpful to her after her injury. Mr Watersson very politely asked Hokma to ask her brother to email Astra’s Security shot certificate to the school and then he said Astra should take as much time as she needed to recover. She was ahead in all her lessons, so a few days off wouldn’t hurt. Hokma said, ‘Yes, that might be productive,’ and shook their hands goodbye. Then she bundled Astra up in her arms and carried her like a baby out to the parking lot.