Qualify (48 page)

And then I turn to the shuttle, take a deep breath and remember the desperate scream I made, back when what now seems to be so many days ago. . . .

I close my eyes to focus, and my eyelids flutter momentarily as the same terrible haunting
note
issues out of me.

Middle F, weird comfortable middle of my vocal range. I belt it out, gripping my hands into fists at my sides, and the pure fierce note blasts through the air. . . . I quickly follow it up with A and C, and then repeat the three-note keying sequence.

The shuttle before me lurches slightly and then it floats up about a foot off the ground, lighter than a cloud. 

In the stunned silence all around me, I continue to sing. And then I think of the F note that’s an octave higher, knowing that this time I need to do a
rising
octave slide, the opposite of what I did that last time. . . . Can I aim that high and make it stick?

My voice sweeps up an octave into heaven, effortlessly reaching the high F.

And so does the shuttle—it lifts up, and rises with amazing speed, and it is suddenly far above the building and racing into the clouds.

“S
top! Enough, bring it back down!” Mr. Warrenson exclaims, and I hear him with the back of my mind as I concentrate. And then I sing the levitating hover sequence “F-A-C.”

The shuttle stops in the air. Like a dark weather balloon it hovers in silhouette against the setting sun. It is so far up that I have no idea if my voice would even reach it now.

Crud! What have I done?

“Oh dear! Now bring it down! Gently, gently!” Mr. Warrenson mutters again with excitement in the general silence, and he is the only one speaking.

I take another deep breath and this time start with the high F that blasts through the clearing and resounds into the sky. Then I drop it down an octave into an object
lowering
slide.

My voice ends back on the Middle F.

And amazingly, the shuttle responds. Even from that impossible distance, it starts coming back down. . . .

I watch its plasma underbelly glowing faintly in the daylight, and just before it’s about to hit the ground from twenty feet above, I sing the hovering “F-A-C.”

The shuttle stops and hovers two feet above the ground.

I grow silent. And then, with an insolent triumphant glare of perfect
disdain
of my own, I turn to look at Aeson Kass.

I look directly into his eyes.

And I barely hear the wild woots and catcalls and clapping from my friends behind me, as the crowd of Candidates acknowledges what I’ve just done.

Because the look on Aeson’s face is priceless.

A
nd now everyone is coming toward me. “Amazing, absolutely amazing! I never thought I’d live to see something like this in action!” Mr. Warrenson is speaking excitedly. “What I don’t understand is, why haven’t you demonstrated the strength of your voice in Tech class, my dear? You were competent, but never particularly loud or unusual, and yes of course, you did earn a credit that one time for having perfect pitch—”

Nefir Mekei stops before me and there is an out-of-the-ordinary
living
expression on his normally reserved face. “Gwen, you have a remarkable voice,” he says, placing one hand lightly on my shoulder. “You have no idea how rare it is.”

“How?” I say, while I am still riding high with the emotion.

And then for the first time today Nefir smiles. “In Atlantis,” he says, “such a natural
power singing voice
is only found among the most ancient families. And these days, only the members of the Imperial Family still wield the ability to sing like that. In the early days, thousands of years ago, they sang to move rocks and mountains, to align things of immense weight, to move and build pyramids and erect cities.
Logos anima mundi
you later came to call it here on Earth, forgetting the original meaning. But the Logos voice is not only the soul of the world, it is the ancient voice of creation. . . .”

I stare in new wonder, as it all begins to sink in, the weird things he just said.

“How is it,” Keruvat says, “that
she
can have the Logos voice, here on Earth?” He comes to stand on the other side of us. “We thought it was extinct, the genetic code long gone from the Earth
homo sapiens
DNA. How is it possible? We might need to retest samples of the population—”

“If only there was time,” Oalla says. And she looks at me with new appreciation.

All this while I keep glancing at Aeson. He stands off to the side, for some reason—away from me and the others as they surround me—and he is looking away into the distance.

I don’t understand if he’s stunned, or angry, or both.

Or maybe it’s something else.

Because when he finally moves toward me, his face has a strange exalted look of wonder—a peculiar vulnerability almost—before it becomes veiled once more with composure.

“Candidate Lark,” he says, facing me at last. “This changes everything.”

“Command Pilot Kass—how so?” I stare back at him—still half-insolent in the way I dare to address him, almost a parallel taunt to what he just called me—but also I am curious. “What will you do now? What happens to me?”

“Because of your voice, its intrinsic value to us, we cannot simply set you aside. Therefore, we cannot Disqualify you or proceed with the normal course of legal actions,” he says coldly. “However, don’t think for a moment that you are relieved of suspicion of wrongdoing. The investigation into your role in the tragic sabotage will continue. But for the moment, you are no longer in custody.”

“What? You’re letting me go?” I say, amazed.
Okay, I did not see that coming
.

“You may return to your Dorm and your classes. You will continue in the Qualification process, but you will be watched closely.” He pauses, and his lips form a severe line. Once again there’s the sense that he is looking
through me
, drowning me with the pressure of his gaze in order to force the truth from me. “In addition, it gives me no pleasure, but you will be working with me from now on. We will work on your voice. I will also train you in other things you will need to know, to improve your chances for Qualification.”

“So . . . what does that mean?”

“It means, I will see you in my office at eight, starting today. You know where it is. Now, dismissed.” And speaking curtly, Aeson Kass turns his back on me.

I pause momentarily, still feeling the echoes of his voice cutting through me, and watch him move away and speak in even cool tones of Atlantean with the two Correctors. Nefir and Oalla join them, and they all begin walking from the airfield, while the others also start dispersing.

I turn, and in that moment George and Gordie are at my side. “Wow, Gwen, what was that? That was incredible!” George says, putting his arm around me. “I had no idea you had a voice like that! When did that come about?”

“Yeah, it was like Mom’s! Like you were singing an opera aria, Gee Two! And then you levitated an effing shuttle! Whoa!” Gordie says, with a big smile and slaps me on the back of the neck around the collar of my jacket, then pats my shoulder awkwardly. Gordie’s never been much for hugging or physical contact, so coming from him this is huge.

Laronda and Dawn and the others surround me also. Laronda squeezes past Gordie and throws herself around my neck in a crazy embrace. She hugs me till it hurts and says, “Wow, girl, what a day! You and me both locked up! And why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that? Holy cannoli, what was it that you did to make the shuttle go up like that? I’ve never seen anything like it in my life! Oooh, they must really be making plans for you now!”

“Well, they let her go, didn’t they!” Dawn says, and I swear, I have never observed Dawn crack a full-blown smile, but here she is, smiling wide at me, and patting my arm.

“Oh! Thank you for the water, Hasmik!” I turn around and see the girl, and she waves with her hand like it was nothing, and finally gives me a big hug.

In the next couple of minutes I give and receive a bunch of hugs and pats and squeezes and other good things from these people who, I can pretty much say, are all my friends, in one way or another.

I turn with a smile and there’s Logan. He stands before me, hands in the pockets of his windbreaker, and his warm hazel eyes never leave my face. A light beautiful smile dances on his lips, and then he leans in close to my ear and says softly, “Thank God that’s over. . . .”

His breath gently tickles my cheek and immediately I get swept into a warm rising ocean. I am filled with a sensation like champagne bubbles, and I can only whisper back, “Thank you for being here for me.”

“You bet,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

I smile up at him. “Okay, I guess. . . .
Better
—now that you and everyone are here, and I am not locked up.”

“Okay, Gwen, you must be starving,” Laronda interrupts our moment of reverie.

“Oh, yeah!” I say. “I could eat an elephant! Not that I would
want
to eat an elephant, poor elephant, but you know what I mean—”

Logan smiles.

“Yeah, yeah! Now, shut it, girl!” Laronda chatters. “The cafeteria is still open, but just barely, if we hurry we can make it to the nearest dorm!”

“That would be my Green Dorm Eleven,” George says and points to a nearby building across the airfield.

“Okay, let’s go!” And Laronda pulls me by the hand.

W
e eat a last-minute dinner at George’s dorm, all of us packed around a small table in the nearly empty cafeteria, while they close down the place around us. After everything that’s happened, I am ravenous, and wolf down whatever mysterious macaroni casserole the cafeteria’s serving today.

My brothers sit on both sides of me, and we elbow each other in friendly banter. It feels really strange and amazingly good to have my bros here like this, protective and comfortable. I briefly wonder if Gracie is okay, and if she is still freaked out about what happened to me. I probably should go see her after all this. . . .

Meanwhile, Logan is only one seat away, on the other side of George. They talk among themselves, but often I find, as I sneak peeks in his direction, that Logan is also glancing at me. And whenever our gazes meet,
he does not look away
and smiles.

Okay, that makes me feel amazing and incredibly giddy. I constantly forget to chew and swallow my food and blush a whole lot so that Laronda gives me funny googly-eyed looks across the table.

“So when did they let you out, Laronda?” I say in order to say something. “What time was it?”

“Not too long after they got you locked up instead.” Laronda glances at Dawn who has her mouth full of casserole. “What was it, Dawn, around nine AM?”

Dawn nods at me, swallows. “Uh-uh, yeah. I was still waiting for you when I saw Laronda was released. Then we both asked about you and they told us you’re arrested. That’s when everything got really crazy. . . . Yeesh.”

“So, Gwen,” Logan says suddenly. “Any plans to go running tonight? I was thinking to do some laps at the AC building track.”

“Oh . . .” I say. “Oh, yeah, sure. After all that lazing around in my four-star jailhouse hotel room, I could use some exercise. Except I have that thing at eight—you know—the evil appointment. I have to be over at
his
office—for whatever training or torture
Command Pilot Kass
has planned for me.”

“Okay,” he says. “But we could fit in a few laps for fifteen minutes before you have to be there, right?”

“I guess! Okay, then!” I smile shyly.

“Great!” And Logan finishes the rest of the juice in his glass.

A
fter everyone disperses, Logan and I head over to the Arena Commons super structure. As we walk, I notice how a few Candidates who are also out and about, stare at me.

In fact, I should mention, this staring phenomenon started as soon as we got back from my “demonstration” ordeal at the airfield and went to eat dinner—news must have spread fast around the dorms, and everyone in the lobby of Green Dorm Eleven was watching and talking about me in quiet and not-so-quiet ways, as soon as they saw us coming.

“Gwen, how are you holding up?” Logan says, as he matches his longer stride to mine and then suddenly places his arm around my shoulders. His touch is light but tangible enough to send jolts of electricity racing all throughout my body. His arm is pressed around me and I look up at him with a quick shy glance, then immediately look straight ahead, while I feel like my lungs are about to burst.

“Well,” I say, “it’s been both terrifying and sort of cathartic. It’s weird to have people think I’m either some kind of criminal terrorist or freak of nature—or both. But it’s a relief to have the whole thing out in the open—even though they still suspect me of horrible things I didn’t do.”

“Yeah, I can see how it’s both.” He nods. “As for your voice—it really is something else. Kind of mind-blowing. I have to tell you, when you first explained to me that night how you sang and landed the shuttle, I did not believe you. I just couldn’t. To my mind, it made no sense. But now that I actually saw and
heard
you do it—just,
wow
.”