Skyland (22 page)

"No."

"Let me wander around, and they'll follow to
see what I do? Is that it?"

"No!"

He snorted in disbelief. "Right."
Liar.

"Who do you mean,
they?
"

"I ran into some old bearded soldier over
by..." He paused, remembering that he hadn't told Wills where he'd
spent the last few mornings. But his secrets – or what he'd
thought
were his secrets – didn't matter now. "Over by the
cells."

"What cells?"

"The prisoners' cells."

"There aren't any prisoners on this ship.
Not yet anyway."

Harper stared at him.
Liar.

He couldn't help thinking it, even though
Wills's face was open, honest. His eyes were blank, confused.
Totally ignorant. But he had to have known. He
had
to.

Liar.
"There are," he said. "I saw
them."

"No, I don't think so."

"There are cells, dozens of them and
prisoners too. At least one. I didn't see inside the other cells.
But I've... been sneaking down there. Or at least I thought I was
sneaking."

"One prisoner?"

"At least."

"Who?"

"An old man. I don't know him. And I don't
know what you could possibly want him for anyway. He's a frail,
bent thing sitting in crumbs and his own piss."

"I don't think so..."

"Yeah, over by where we met up on the first
day? After you went to take a break. The hallway where you found
me, remember? Come on." He grabbed Wills's arm. "Come on."
Like
you don't already know.

"If you say so..."

He turned around and Wills followed him back
in the direction of the long, dark hall of sealed doors. They
walked in silence around a few corners until,

"Mr. Fields."

For the second time that day, Harper froze
as another voice came from behind him.

"Mr. Fields?"

Harper looked back. The angry man stood in
the hall behind them. A smile stretched the pouchy features. Harper
did not say anything.

"Everything okay so far, Mr. Fields?"

Harper looked straight into his eye.

You know it's not. That was probably your
trap, wasn't it? Of course it was.

Harper just looked over at Wills, waiting
for him to say something about being shoved to the ground. The
young soldier just looked guilty and didn't say anything.

Harper looked back at the angry man. "Yeah,
great," he answered.

The angry man turned to Wills, waved a hand
and without a single word Wills stepped away, took one nervous look
at Harper, flicked his eyes over to the angry-but-smiling man and
moved off down the hall. A moment later he was gone.

"You." The angry man took a step closer, and
Harper tensed reflexively.

"Yes?"

"Walk." He brushed past, continued down the
hall a few steps, paused and looked back. "Walk."

Harper obeyed.

They walked for a few moments in silence,
around a few corners, down a few hallways. They were not going in
the direction of the prison wing. As they walked, Harper peered
into the open doorways they passed, trying to ascertain where they
were. He had no idea. Finally, the soldier broke the silence.

"You said you knew where the dirt stores of
the Sky Reverends are."

"I do."

"We need you to find out more."

"More what?"

"More information. Your, ah morning
conversations..." He paused, smirking, and Harper just glared at
him. "Your morning conversations with the old gentleman in our
secure wing failed to yield any useful information, we need to take
a more direct approach."

"You can just ask. I already told you I
would help."

"And you need to find out if anything is
changed."

"Changed?"

"Since the Sky Reverend's plan was put into
action."

"What do you mean?"

"We need you to find out what has happened
since the attack. Who has access to the stores now? Who
had
access to them at the time of the explosion – and, if you can, who
was responsible? Have they been moved since the arrival of our
troops? Have they been depleted? We just need to make sure your
information is... accurate."

"Because you think I'm lying? That I don't
really know anything?"

"Because we need to be certain before we
make a move. We don't want to cause any, ah, accidents."

Harper shivered at the word.
"Accidents?"

"We just want to make sure we have all the
information. Can you get it from your father?"

"I can." Harper flinched and realized his
finger nails were digging into his palms. He took a steadying
breath.
Just the dirt stores.
"How this going to work?"

"Simple. You meet with your father. How you
get the information is for you to decide. You will wear recording
devices of course so everything will be relayed back to us."

Recording devices.... like a spy. Just like
the old chair maker said.

Harper grimaced and looked away from the
angry man. He did not like the idea of spying on his family. He
shook his head.

"No?"

"No – I mean, yes, I can do that."
Because there is no better choice.
He shook his head again,
as if trying to shake off the feeling that he was betraying
someone.
If I do not do this, then I am betraying Zara.

The soldier's smile widened. "Good."

"But..."

"Yes?"

"This is it," said Harper. "It is more than
I said I would do. I told you I would help you locate the dirt
stores. That was all. But... but I will do this because it will
help you find them. But no more. I am not a spy."

"You will be what you need to be."

"I will only–"

"Harper Fields, you are being treated as a
guest
for now
," growled the angry man through a frozen
smile, "but that can easily change. Do not forget you are the son
of a Sky Reverend. It is only our largess that allows such a threat
to walk free."

Forget!
Harper glared straight ahead
and clamped his mouth shut against the rage boiling up inside him.
Forget? He is in my head! I can never forget...

"You're freedom is conditional," the angry
man continued. "You meet our conditions, we uphold your
freedom."

"Sure," Harper spat through clenched
teeth.

"Don't believe me? Do you really want to
test–"

"No. I believe you," said Harper with
complete honesty. "I believe that you'd lock me up. But not because
you think I'm a threat. Only because you think I won't do what you
say."

"Make no mistake, we can
easily
change your status. From guest to threat.... it is not a big leap.
Doubt at your peril."

"That's not what I said. I don't doubt you'd
do it. But you wouldn't believe it."

"That remains to be seen."

"If you
really
thought I was a
threat, you'd already have me locked up on some prison colony light
years away from here."

The smile on the angry man's face tightened
into a grimace. His eyes squinted into a glare. A second later he
smiled again, wider than before. His lips quivered as if he were
trying to hold in a laugh.

"You're right," he said. "We don't. A farm
boy like you is not a big concern to us."

Harper heard the teasing strain in the man's
voice, and he gritted his teeth. "Why not?" he asked.

"Are you saying you should be a concern?" He
was still smiling, still not-quite laughing.

"I'm saying you don't see me that way. And
if you don't, that means you have some reason to think that.
Because from everything I've seen you don't assume people
aren't
threats. You assume they are."

"We treat everyone as innocent until–"

"Bullshit!" The word exploded from Harper's
mouth. "
Bull. Shit.
What about that poor chair maker? You
dragged him in here like a mad axe murderer, and I never saw
someone who looked less criminal in my life!"

"He could have had information–"

"
I
have information!"

"And we're going to get to that–"

"And yet I am a guest, and he is a
prisoner."

"Don't flatter yourself. You aren't that
different. As I said, it is not a great leap between the two."

Harper turned his face away from the angry
man, away from that mocking, corpulent face. He glared at the
floor, eyes tight.

Zara. Think of Zara. Do not make things
worse.
He grit his teeth, got his breathing in control, then
flicked his eyes back up to the angry man.
One more
question.
"How did you find me?"

"What?"

"On the Skyland ship. How did you find
me?"

"You can't possibly be interested in our
method–"

"
How. Did. You. Find. Me.
"

"We told you, there's weren't many
farmers–"

"Yeah, so why bother?" he asked. "Most of
the farmers who could help you are right here on Skyland. Why try
to find
me?
There were five thousand people on that ship and
you walked right up to me."

"You don't hide as well as you think."

"I wasn't hid–"

"Now I need you to answer some questions for
us," the angry man interrupted.

"Why did you–"

"Harper Fields, you will answer some
questions for us."

Zara. Think of Zara.
"Fine
.
"
Again he lowered his eyes to the floor trying to hide his glare.
No information then.
"What questions?"

"Why don't you sit down."

The angry man had stopped walking.

Harper looked around.

They stood at the open door to a small room.
A cluster of screens filled one corner. A Union soldier slouched at
a chair in front of them. There was a table in the center of the
room and a few chair around it. This was not a cell. Harper took a
careful step inside. The air was the same temperature as in the
hallway.

He pulled out a chair and sat. The angry man
sat on the table. Harper crossed his arms and looked up at him,
waiting for him to speak.

"Firstly," the angry man began, still
smiling just a tiny bit, "tell us where the Sky Reverends are."

"Everywhere," Harper answered. "Every
village. Every street. Every market. Even here in the city." His
eyebrows knitted together as he squinted up at the angry man.
Why?
"You can't think I'll spy on all of them?"

"Of course not. We need to know where they
gather, where they have most power. Your village is a seat of their
influence, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Your father, he is not the only Sky
Reverend there?"

"No, there are... half a dozen, maybe. And
their students. But they are not threats. Go after them and you
will just create more enemies."

"We are only interested in their weapons
now."

"Of course."
Right.

"And the dirt stores are nearby? You!" he
barked to the soldier sitting in front of the cluster of screens in
the corner. "Get us a map."

A moment later a map of Skyland lit up one
of the screens.

The angry man pointed roughly at it. "Show
me where they are."

Harper squinted for a second at the map. He
got up and looked closer.

"They're here." He pointed to a spot a ways
outside the city. "Mostly. You won't be able to get it all. Some of
the Reverends keep the dirt in their homes. To be prepared. And
then there may be others sites. I only know the east fields. But
the largest collections are out behind the brown fields." He
pointed to a dark patch, an inch wide on the map. "There's a pit
house, dug down in the ground. Just looks like a shack in the
desert from above."

"How much do they have?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not–"

"I
don't
know. I was there a long
time ago. They had..."

Harper looked around. He had no idea how
much was there. He had no idea of its weight, or mass. He didn't
even know how explosives were measured. He wasn't supposed to know.
It wasn't his job. He only knew it was a lot.

"Size of this room, maybe," he finished.
"Solid. And that was... some time ago."

Barely a week had passed since he had gone
with his father to the stores and brought back a small bag of the
fertilizer. But that was another life.

Time is relative.

The angry man looked around as if trying to
picture it in his mind. "How much is that? In terms of what it can
do?"

"Enough to destroy all the ships. Several
times over."

"Hah." The angry man looked doubtful.

Harper said nothing. He just waited.

"Go talk to them," said the angry man.

"Fine."

"Your father. The Reverends. Whoever will
talk to you. We need to be certain."

"Okay."

The angry man turned back to the other
soldier in the corner, still silently watching the screens.
"You!"

"Yes, sir?"

"He needs a wire."

"Yes, sir."

And he rustled around for a bit in a drawer
in the table under the screens. The angry man turned back to
Harper.

"And Mr. Fields?"

"Yes."

"Don't try anything."

"I'm not going to–"

"We'll have a sniper on you going in and out
of there."

"Fine," snapped Harper.

The tech soldier clipped some wires and
plastic bits into his shirt, and Harper just shook his head.

Nothing makes sense.

It really, really didn't.

The more he thought about his situation, the
less sense it made.

Why not just burst in and arrest his father?
Why not interrogate his father like they had interrogated him, like
they had interrogated the poor old man? What did they need Harper
for?

"They trust you..."
the transport
worker had said.

And they did. Surprisingly. Shockingly.
Despite the wire and the sniper and the questions, they trusted
him. They must. Otherwise, he'd be in a cell somewhere.