Compete (67 page)

And it can’t come soon enough.

I walk into the CCO five minutes early.

Tonight my heart is racing for two different reasons. One, I get to see
him
, as always. Two, I get to ask him the scary questions, with possibly even scarier answers.

Aeson Kassiopei is standing near his desk, adjusting one of the mech arms for the display monitors.

The moment he sees me, he stops doing whatever he’s doing and turns to me.

“Congratulations,” he says in an unreadable voice. “You did very well on the Quantum Stream Race today. Better than expected.”

“Thank you,” I say with unusual composure, while my breath comes evenly as I attempt to control it. “I tried to follow your advice, and I think it helped.”

“Following my advice? You surprise me yet again.”

I nod, still breathing regularly and don’t respond to his mild taunt.

He must be extremely well attuned to my nuances, because he raises one brow and looks at me in expectation. “You don’t appear as pleased as you should be. Why is that, Lark? Tell me what is the matter.”

My lips part. . . . How did he know?

“Command Pilot,” I say, while a cold terror immediately begins to build up in my gut. “I’m very happy with my results. But—something happened today during the Race.”

He continues looking at me, closely, with his unblinking masked expression.

And then I tell him the whole thing. “That shuttle emerged back out from the ark-ship, unharmed,” I conclude, “while there was a strange visual effect—a ripple of sorts. Which is something that happens with
holograms
.”

At the word “holograms” I notice him grow very still, more so than he already is. Okay, this does not bode well. . . . So, I persist.

“Was that ark-ship a hologram? And if so, are there others like it in the Fleet? Please, Command Pilot, I need to know! I must know what’s going on!”

There is a long pause.

And then he exhales a held breath, and sits down at his desk. He points to one of the other empty chairs, and I sit down across from him in my usual spot.

“Please . . .” I say. “Please tell me, what is really going on?”

He frowns, watching me. “Sometimes, you’re too perceptive for your own good. It is unfortunate that you had to discover the nature of that ship. Yes, it
is
a hologram.”

“My God. . . .” I start to tremble.

“Don’t be alarmed. There are
no
others like it in the Fleet. No other holograms. It is the only one.”

“But why? How did it get there?”

He exhales another held breath. “I
put
it there.”

“What?”

“I had to fill in the vacant space in the formation in order to maintain security, among other things. The actual ship has stayed behind, remaining in Earth’s orbit.”

“Oh!” I feel so many burning questions well up inside me.

He notices my anxiety. “These are all matters that don’t concern you directly, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Not worry?” I exclaim. Immediately I feel a stab of anger, and it gives me a boost of crazy energy. “Are you serious? How does it not concern me? What is that ship doing back on Earth?”

He starts to frown lightly. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! This is my home! My family is there, I want to know—no, I
demand
to know what is going on!”

Command Pilot Kassiopei leans in closer to me, resting his hands on his desk. His composed expression hardens. “Right now, you are treading on dangerous ground, Lark. You are not to speak this way to me—
ever
. Remember yourself.”

I let out my breath. I meet the look of his beautiful, terrifying eyes.

“Forgive me, Command Pilot,” I say, in a careful voice like ice. “I have
overstepped
my bounds.” And I continue to look at him fiercely, negating my compliant words.

For a few seconds, we are in a duel of gazes. And then, surprisingly, he relents first, by looking away.

“There’s not much that can be disclosed to unauthorized personnel such as yourself,” he says in an almost resigned voice. “However, I will tell you some of it—because I trust you sufficiently, as my Aide, and as a
human being
—someone who is intelligent enough to understand the complexity of the situation.”

I blink and continue to watch him with absolute intensity. In that unexpected moment, I suddenly see the vulnerability in him, in the way his walls of composure break down momentarily, as he speaks to me on this very peculiar, human level of
equals
. And for some reason, it breaks my heart.

And then he begins to talk, looking off into space, and not meeting my gaze directly. Maybe it’s easier for him to speak that way. . . . I know it’s easier for
me
.

“The ship will remain in orbit around Earth all the way up to the arrival of the asteroid. It remains there for a number of reasons. Yes, obviously, it’s a last resort, in case there’s a sudden last-minute solution to the tragic situation. It also remains in order to establish a
communication link
with the Fleet in the Quantum Stream—otherwise we would not be able to receive news of Earth and transmit back to them.”

He pauses, glancing at me briefly. “Your Earth United Nations governments and Earth Union have apparently relied on the fact that we are leaving ships in orbit—they expected several, not just one. My Father, the Imperator, has made them promises he never planned to fulfill. He is at least partially responsible for creating and escalating the tragic situation with Earth Union. He can never meet their demands, and they have an incomplete, false understanding of the situation.”

I listen, while a frown gathers on my forehead from the tension. “And what
is
the situation?” I say softly.

Still looking away from me, Aeson Kassiopei shakes his head. And he does not reply.

In that moment I remember something else I’ve been meaning to ask. “Command Pilot,” I say. “Thank you for explaining about the ark-ship. And . . . I’m sorry if this is again me stepping out of line, but there is something that has been bothering me ever since the hostage incident with Terra Patria. One of their demands—”

He looks at me, hard. “What?”

I swallow. . . . “A demand they made was for you to fly an empty ark-ship and crash it into the asteroid and cause a multi-megaton explosion that would destroy it. I was wondering, wouldn’t it make actual sense to sacrifice an Atlantean ship—or even two or more ships, to make a really big impact explosion—if it meant that all of Earth could be saved? I know it’s probably ridiculous, and there are some other considerations I’m not aware of, but—”

“It will not do any good.” His answer comes softly.

“But why?”

“They will only send
another
one. . . .”

“What do you mean?” I frown. “They who? What? I don’t understand. . . .”

But Aeson is looking at me with eyes filled with sorrow. “
They
—” he repeats softly—“will only send another
asteroid
.”

My mouth falls open.

Oh . . . my . . . God.

I am stunned.

Truly, I have no words right now.

Who are “they?”

But Command Pilot Kassiopei preempts my further questions. “Enough,” he says harshly, closing up again. “I have told you far more than I should, and at some point you will learn more—I
promise
you. But—not now, not today.”

“But—” I stammer. “Who are they? Who are you talking about? Please! Is it the Imperator, your Father? The Atlantis Central Agency?
Who?
”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “
Not
my Father, and not the ACA. Furthermore, you must
not
speak to
anyone
about what I’ve told you. And now, this conversation is
over
.”

As he reaches for the sound damper box containing the usual pieces of orichalcum for my voice lesson, I find that I’m shaking.

L
ater that night, and the following morning, I find that I am still stunned and mulling over the impossible implications of what I’ve learned from Kassiopei.

What is going on with that asteroid?

One thing is certain,
this changes everything
.

Instead of celebrating my great Pilot scores, or rehashing my carefully-laid plans for the future, about entering the Games of the Atlantis Grail in order to save my parents, or even wondering how my siblings and I will proceed once we get to Atlantis—instead of all that, I’m now obsessing over the true nature of the asteroid threat.

But I have no means of finding out anything more than I already know. My one source—the Command Pilot—is not giving me any more answers.

And so, over the next few days, and the remaining weeks, I force myself to put this on the backburner, and simply let the events play out.

Because either I do that, or I go insane with worry and soul-sickness. . . .

And right now, I need to conserve all the strength that I have for what’s coming ahead.

Chapter Forty-Two

W
e’ve now entered the third month of Yellow season, which is the twelfth and final month of our journey to Atlantis.

The rate of our deceleration is making itself felt, because now when we visit the observation decks of our ark-ships, we can see real interstellar space and cosmic grandeur through the softly translucent curtain of the Quantum Stream.

The Stream itself has become rarified, fine and almost non-existent, its nature a wispy fabric. . . . Right now the Fleet is passing through a thick galactic cluster, a sea of infinite stars churning in a spiral that resembles a conch shell of pearl and rose, with a rich strange physical texture that looks like something you might see under a microscope.

It’s absolutely stunning. . . .

Supposedly, things on a grand macro scale often look the same as things on a tiny micro scale. . . . Galaxies resemble amoebas. It’s only the in-between stuff that looks different to us,
homo sapiens
, the human race. Possibly because that intermediate scale is what we actually inhabit, and what makes sense to us. The super-big and the super-small are all
unreal
. Our world is somewhere in the middle.

In the third week of the third month of Yellow, with only one week before arrival on Atlantis, we have one final ship-board celebration to look forward to.

It’s the Yellow Zero-G Dance.

And my Quadrant is hosting it.

T
wo days before the Yellow Dance, with everyone in the Fleet making fun plans, I talk to Gracie to ask her if she wants to be my guest once again, and visit ICS-2.

But my sister tells me that she has been invited by Blayne, and is coming to our ship already. “Oh, really?” I say with a little smile. “When was this planned?”

Gracie looks closely into the screen and I see a slight blush gather on her cheeks. “Oh, it’s no big deal,” she mutters. “Blayne and I were just talking recently, and he mentioned that he’ll be around on ICS-2 the night of the Dance, so I said, why don’t we hang out.”

“Ah,” I say. “So you invited
yourself
over, Gee Four. Nicely played!”

“I did not!” Gracie flares with embarrassment. “I mean, we were just talking, that’s all, and since he is not busy that night—”

“Right,” I say as my smile turns into a grin.

“Stop that!” Gracie is really blushing now.

“Okay, okay!” I put one hand up and bite my lips. “Just have a good time, and be sure not to drive the boy crazy too much, okay? I’ll see you the day after tomorrow!”

So that’s settled.

Then, I figure, I can invite Laronda. I call her up, and the girl sounds all excited and immediately says yes. So, now, I finally get to see her after all these months, at last!

“Oooh, what are you going to wear?” Laronda asks me, craning her neck. “Something stunning and outrageous like you did the last time for the Red Dance? Because I’m so mad I didn’t get the chance to see your red-hot Carmen dress!”

“Oh . . .” I say. “Well, it’s still here in my closet storage bin, so you can see it if you like when you get here. I was thinking about just returning it and having them recycle it. . . .”

“
What?”
Laronda exclaims. “No, no way! That’s sacrilege! How can you even think of getting rid of a fabulous dress like that?”

I shrug. “It’s not like I’ll be likely to wear it again.”

But Laronda shakes her head at me and wags her finger. “You never know, girlfriend. You never know. I mean, I’m still kind of wondering how come you’re inviting
me
instead of that hottie Xelio as your date for this dance? Seriously, why not him again?”