Reaping (9 page)

“I know this is painful for you, but there’s one more thing I need to bring up. Soren Skaarsgard.” In our crowded little comm center, two dozen faces turn immediately to Soren. His blue eyes crystallize in that instant, his entire body tenses as he focuses his frozen gaze on me. “Soren, the only son of former Chancellor Cara Skaarsguard, was once a rising star within the Sector Research Institute. Many speculated he might follow in his mother’s footsteps into the College of the Deans. Jeremiah and Soren were close friends before Soren went missing. Don’t you think it’s just a little too coincidental that both of Jeremiah’s best friends—both from politically connected families—suddenly disappeared?”

“I don’t have any idea why Soren disappeared, but that was a long time ago! That has nothing to do with—”

“I’m sorry, Moriana, but that’s all the time we have. Thank you for agreeing to talk with us. I know this must be difficult for you.”

“Lin—”

“Fellow citizens, that was Moriana Nair, former girlfriend of Sector traitor Jeremiah Sayyid. Stay tuned for the latest news of Valerian Orleán’s abduction. This is Linnea Heilmann. Goodnight for now.”

5 - VALE

Winter 32, Sector Annum 106, 05h11

Gregorian Calendar: January 21

Blue, glittering twilight settles on us like a pall. Every shifting shadow unnerves me, a potential threat, an enemy waiting for the kill. Earlier, we were the predators—now we’re prey. We’ve been on the move for an hour, stopping only once for a quick drink. Firestone’s holding up fairly well, though I can hear him cursing under his breath—words I’ve never even heard from Sector soldiers—so I know he’s in a lot of pain. We’re all getting tired. But we have to press on. As far as we can before we collapse—as far away from the soldiers responsible for destroying Waterloo as possible.

I glance at the sky, barely visible through the trees. We’ve got insulated, camouflaged tents, and the canopy is dense enough that I don’t think we’ll need to worry about drones tonight. But soldiers are another matter. I don’t think they’ll be following us this far into the Wilds—Sector soldiers aren’t as good in the Wilds as they like to think they are—but I don’t want to take chances.

I run alongside Kenzie and Jahnu, as Firestone huffs his way through the trees, until finally he collapses and falls into a heap by the roots of a towering tree.

Kenzie and Jahnu are at his side before I can even call to them. Firestone looks dazed. His eyes are glazed over and distant.

“Dehydration,” I say immediately, watching his eyes. “Side effect of severe burns.”

“And exhaustion,” Kenzie says, impatient. She pulls out her water canteen and hands it to Firestone. “Drink,” she says curtly. “We’ve been running nonstop for over an hour, after a hard day’s walk and the heat of that fight back there. We all need to rest.”

“Goddamn,” Firestone swears, no longer under his breath.

“Good time to stop,” I say.

“About time,” Kenzie responds, as though I had been the one prodding them on for the last few miles. “It’s past dark, and we can’t keep moving like this.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say so before,” Firestone says loudly, his eyes still unfocused.

Kenzie and Jahnu look at each other.

“We need to make camp,” she says. “Get some salt and clean water in him. He needs electrolytes.” She looks up at Jahnu. “You guys find us a spot to camp. I’ll stay with Firestone.”

Firestone waves a hand in Kenzie’s face, laughing wearily. “I’m not at death’s door. Quit talking about me like I’m not here.”

“You better not be at death’s door,” Kenzie says. “You’d never live it down, dying because you hadn’t had a drink all day.”

“Ha ha. I’ll take a drink. A stiff one, please.”

Jahnu and I split up, taking care not to go too far, looking for a flat area big enough for us to pitch our tents, but small enough for us to remain hidden in the underbrush. It’s not long before I hear Jahnu’s whistle.

While Kenzie tends Firestone, Jahnu and I unpack and set up camp. The spot Jahnu’s picked is under an enormous old tree trunk that fell into the arms of another tree. It’ll be a tight squeeze, with both tents tucked under the old canopy, but it’ll give us an additional screen from anyone who might be tracking us.

The four of us squeeze into one tent to tend to Firestone and share what little provisions we have left. Firestone looks much better now that he’s not moving anymore. He’s laughing again, and swearing a lot, which tells me he’s mostly back to normal. Once Kenzie realizes that he’s not in danger of fainting, she pulls an aloe ointment out of her pack and starts slathering it over the burn on his shoulder.

“Fuck!” he swears. “That shit hurts like hell.” Jahnu and I look at each other and smile. As long as Firestone is cursing, we know he’ll be okay.

“It’s antibacterial,” she says, looking at him apologetically. “We have to clean and dress the burn.”

“Hey, Firestone. What was it you were chewing and rubbing on your shoulder earlier?” I ask.

“Plaintain leaves. Common weed, grows all over. Just like dreamweed. It’s antibacterial, too, but it soothes the burn. Doesn’t bite like whatever evil concoction Dr. Kenzie Oban’s got here. But you gotta macerate it to release the juices and oils. That’s why I was chewing it. Works well enough, though.”

“Human saliva can help, too, which probably makes the plantain leaves more effective,” Kenzie adds.

“You gonna start spitting at me now?” Firestone pulls back in mock terror.

“If you don’t sit still, I might,” Kenzie says.

Firestone stills and turns to me. “So V, you’re our resident Sector expert,” Firestone says, using the abbreviation he’s become fond of. I can’t tell yet if it’s a term of endearment or ridicule. I’m hoping it’s the former, but Firestone’s easy attitude never gives much away. “What the hell happened back there?”

“I’d guess roughly the same thing as happened at Thermopylae. As an above-ground structure, Waterloo would have been a lot easier to find than Thermopylae. Even disguised as a run-down old shed. They probably sent some drones to take photos, do surveillance, and then sent in a few squads of soldiers once they figured it out.”

There’s a long silence as Kenzie dresses Firestone’s burn. The pressure in the little tent seems to be building. I’m sweating and clammy. Remembering the devastation at Thermopylae always brings up tension, and I can’t help but feel responsible.

“We need more water,” Jahnu says, breaking the silence.

“There’s a little stream not far,” I respond. “I found it when I was looking for a spot. I’ll go fill our canteens.”

I duck out before anyone can object. I flip on the tiny biolight in my pocket, which is just bright enough to illuminate the path at my feet. As I walk, I allow myself a space to breathe, finally, and to think. My thoughts bleed together as I walk through the darkness. A directionless apathy gnaws at me. It occurs to me that from here, we have at least a two-day journey ahead of us to make it to Normandy. And that’s if we make it without any further mishaps. I kneel to fill our canteens, wondering how we’ll make it through the woods with so little food left and Firestone hurt to boot.

Lost in the woods. Something jogs in my memory.

If you should ever find yourself lost in the woods, this may help.
 Chan-Yu’s last words to me when I confronted him in the Sector capital building. I drop our full canteens and pull out the acorn pendant he gave me then. It’s been hanging around my neck, largely forgotten, until now. I hold it up in front of me, turn it over in my hands, press the metal between my fingertips, examine it closely. In the dim biolight, I look at it closely for the first time. Green and gold enamel decorate the surface. The acorn’s ‘hat’ is lightly indented, just like a real nut would be.

I hold it up above me and look at it from the bottom. This time I notice something I hadn’t seen before. A tiny lever, or a switch, almost invisible in the darkness. Using my fingernail, I pry it from right to left, holding my breath. Will it light up? Explode? Turn into something else—a compass, maybe? At this point, I’d give anything for a magical genie to appear and grant me three wishes. But nothing happens. I turn it over in my hand again, but the miniscule switch is, again, the only thing I notice. I sigh, wondering if it’s broken, or maybe just a design flaw. I tuck it back into my shirt and head back to camp.

Firestone’s already asleep in the tent when I return, and Kenzie’s settling into the tent she shares with Jahnu.

“You on first watch?” I ask Jahnu, who is sitting with his Bolt across his legs.

“Yep. You’re on second. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

I nod.

“Night,” I say.

A man of few words, he stares straight ahead, as if he hadn’t heard me. I sigh, and duck into my tent.

I wake with a start when Jahnu touches my shoulder, jerking up and gasping from a hazy, suffocating dream. Firestone seems undisturbed by my clamor, though no less sweaty.

“My turn?” I ask, as softly as I can. Jahnu nods. I can barely see him in the darkness. I follow his lead, crawling over Firestone’s long legs. The shivering cold air of a winter night greets me as I step outside.

I pull my down vest from my pack and settle in, as Jahnu ducks into his tent. I sit with my Bolt at my side, staring at nothing, listening to the wind in the trees and reveling in the silence. In Okaria, there was never so much quiet. Even at night, when the PODS shut down and electricity rationing set in, there was still noise around us. Out here, there’s just the wind, the trees, and the stars. Oh, the stars.

The minutes fade into hours as I watch the stars wheel around the sky above me and listen for every broken twig or unusual rush of wind in the trees. Eventually a bruise-colored shift in the tint of the sky forms. Everything feels brittle, as if I could shatter the air by breathing too hard. I’ve been sitting too long, I decide. I stand, stretch my limbs and then prick my ears and sniff, holding perfectly still for a moment. But there’s nothing. I let out my breath and relax.

“Hello, Valerian.”

I jump backward as a slight figure materializes from behind a huge, gnarled tree. I pull my gun up. My eyes never leave the cloaked form in front of me but she does not move. 
Where did she come from?

“I was told to expect your call.” Her low, crisp voice reminds me of gunmetal and sounds just as dangerous.

“Who the hell are you?” Small hands reach up and pull back her hood, revealing short, honey-colored hair cut jagged around her ears and sticking straight up everywhere else, like the last person who cut her hair had a seizure while on the job. In the dim light of dawn, she looks almost unnaturally beautiful, like a creature from a fairy tale, or a horror story. She’s tall, thin, and youthful, but whether she’s fifteen or twenty-five, I couldn’t say.

“You called last night,” she says, her voice quiet, steady. She stretches her hand out from under the cloak, which at one moment shimmers in the early morning light and the next disappears, clearly woven with holographic camouflage fibers, to show me an acorn pendant in her palm, a perfect match to the one I wear around my neck. On her arm, I notice slash marks scarring her skin, distorted lines that crisscross her flesh. And as I look up at her, startled, I realize that there’s a scar on her left cheek as well, a perfect X carved into her face.

Aha, 
I think. 
So that’s what that little switch is.

“I … I didn’t know the pendant was a beacon.”

“So he didn’t tell you how to activate it?” she responds lightly. “Interesting. That explains why you weren’t expecting me. I’ve been here for two hours, watching you.” She laughs, not a giggle but a throaty, deep chuckle that reminds me of Miah when he laughs at his own jokes. “I didn’t want to chance surprising you as I’m not particularly fond of getting shot at in the dark.”

“How did you know it was me? How did you find us?”

“Each beacon has its own signature.” She pulls out a deep blue glass semi-sphere from under her cloak. It’s small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She presses a long finger to the surface and it lights up immediately, thin white lines dancing across the surface of the glass.

“We call it an astrolabe,” she says. “A navigational device. We stole the name from the Old World, but it doesn’t really work like one of those old devices. This one’s much better.” I try to silence the multitude of thoughts zipping around my brain and focus on her words. “Mine shows me where I am, as well as where all the active beacons are within range—some five-hundred kilometers from my location. I can use it to direct me to any of the beacons at any point, and it will show me exactly how to get there.” She looks up at me with a smile playing around her lips. “It helps me to avoid plenty of stuff, too. Sector drones, for instance.”

“What 
are
 you?” I demand, almost breathless with curiosity.

She looks at me almost bashfully.

“I’m a wayfarer.”

That doesn’t answer my question,
 is what I’m thinking when the girl stops moving and the smile freezes on her face. Her eyes slip past mine, just over my shoulder. I turn to see Kenzie standing behind us, her Bolt trained on our mysterious visitor.

“Who’re you?” Kenzie demands. The girl flashes her a wide smile. The astrolabe, I notice, has disappeared.

“I’m here to take you to safety,” the girl says easily.

“Really. And where is that?” Kenzie asks, looking ready to pull the trigger at any minute. “Vale, what’s this about?”

“I can help you,” the girl says cheerfully, before I get a chance to respond. “I noticed Waterloo ran afoul of the Sector, and I’m sorry about that.” Her smile fades a little, and her voice is tinged with regret. “But I hope to get you to Normandy,” she says, looking up at the sky, “before the storm blows in. If all goes well, I can have you there in two days’ time.”

Kenzie and I both follow her gaze up to the sky.

“What storm?” Kenzie demands. “And how do you know the names of our bases?”