Spark: A Sky Chasers Novel (25 page)

Philip’s eyes landed on Tobin’s face for a moment, watching him speak, but then drifted back to the ceiling again.

“Philip,” Tobin said, “I bet you want that hose out of your throat, don’t you, buddy?”

The boy closed and opened his eyes, seeming unable to do more. He reminded Kieran of an antique doll owned by Felicity Wiggam, the one girl who had chosen to stay behind on the New Horizon. If she laid the doll on its back, its eyes shut with an unnerving mechanical swivel.
Is Philip still in there?
Kieran wondered.

“I’m going to pull it out in one motion, okay?” Tobin said loudly to Philip as he gripped the breathing tube firmly in his fist. “I need you to breath out when I do.”

“Have you done this before?” Kieran asked.

“Quiet,” Tobin said. Kieran understood that most everything Tobin did was for the first time, and his only hope of keeping his patients calm was if he pretended total confidence.

Tobin waited until Philip was about to exhale, then, with a swift motion, pulled the tube out of his throat. The boy coughed, little hacking noises that shook his shoulders. When he’d settled, Tobin picked up a spray bottle from the bedside table, gently opened the boy’s mouth, and spritzed a fine mist into it. Philip’s breath smelled rancid and stale, but Kieran leaned close to him.

“Philip, can you hear me?” Kieran asked, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. The boy’s lips opened and closed, making him look like a fish. Kieran leaned closer to him and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. It felt fragile under his fingers.

The boy whispered a dry, papery word that Kieran couldn’t hear.

“Try more water,” he said to Tobin, who sprayed a little more into the boy’s mouth. Philip mashed his lips together.

“Bright,” Philip whispered, blinking his eyes as though a light was being shined into them.

“Dim the lights,” Kieran said, and Tobin pushed a pad on the wall, reducing the brightness in the room by half.

“A flash,” Philip said, then coughed again. “Flash of light.”

“You’re seeing flashing lights, Philip?” Tobin asked, concerned.

Philip rolled his head to look at Tobin, but his eyes seemed too far apart, and his pupils, Kieran noticed for the first time, were two different sizes. “The starboard side.”

“I think he’s delirious,” Tobin said. “We should let him rest.”

Kieran nodded and began to pull away, but Philip reached for him. Grasping his hand gently, Kieran leaned over the little boy, his mouth level with the curving shell of his ear, and whispered, “Philip, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation.”

“They’re all through the starboard side,” Philip whispered. “In the ceiling.”

“Philip. Did you hear me?”

“Oh God.” Philip’s eyes widened, and he took in a quick, shallow breath. “They’ll never forgive us.”

Kieran felt Tobin’s hand on his arm. “Let’s give him a chance to rest, okay?”

“What’s he saying?” Kieran asked. He felt chilled, and his heart was pounding.

“He’s not conscious,” Tobin said apologetically. “I read about this. It happens with coma patients sometimes. He’s talking in his sleep. It’s gibberish.”

“Like he’s dreaming?” Kieran asked. Philip’s murmurs sounded disembodied, abandoned.

“Kind of like dreams,” Tobin said sadly. “He’s active and breathing on his own. It’s a good sign.”

Tobin was being gentle with Kieran. He’d heard his apology to Philip, Kieran realized.

“If there’s any change at all, tell me, okay?”

“Right away,” Tobin said, nodding. When he turned back to Philip, Kieran noticed that Tobin’s shoulder muscles had gotten huge.
He must be lifting patients all day long,
Kieran realized,
to give them meds or help them adjust in bed. It’s got to be backbreaking work. He never complains.

“I think making you medical officer has been the best decision I’ve made as Captain,” he said to Tobin.

Embarrassed, Tobin couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at Kieran. Instead, he waved him out of the infirmary and turned his back to write something on Philip’s chart. Kieran thought he saw a tear in the corner of the boy’s eye just as he turned away. Of all people on the ship, Tobin probably understood the weight of responsibility as much as Kieran did. He made life-and-death decisions, he had to work tirelessly, and he was rarely thanked. If only there was someone on board who could tell Kieran he was doing a good job, too. He longed for some reassurance that he wasn’t doing the wrong thing at every step. But he knew by now this wasn’t something leaders got from their crew.

Once he asked the voice that visited him if he was doing a good job, and he thought he’d heard what he wanted. But part of him wondered if he’d made it up.

When he got back to his office, he found Waverly waiting for him outside the door.

“We need to talk,” she said, her mouth set in a short, stubborn line. Her voice still sounded squeezed, but her bruises had faded to yellow and she seemed healthy again.

“I don’t have time right now.”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

He sighed heavily but unlocked the door to his office and stood aside for her. She walked through without thanking him and sat down in the chair across from his desk. He sat in his chair and looked at her, waiting.

“The Central Council wants to see the terrorist,” she said.

“I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?”

“Security reasons.”

“The ship’s bylaws say the council has the right to access any prisoner on the Empyrean to verify physical health and state of mind. It’s on page forty-two.”

“So you’re worried that he misses his mommy?”

“You can’t legally stop us, Kieran.”

He let his eyes trail over to the volume of laws that sat on the top of the Captain’s bookshelf. Unlike Waverly, he didn’t have the time to study them.

“I’ll have to check into this,” he said. “Can it wait for a couple days?”

“No.”

“You can’t just spring this on me.”

“I just did.”

“When did you become such a bitch?”

It was out of his mouth before he’d even completed the thought. But it was true. She’d become demanding, unreasonable, impossible.

“What did you call me?” Her voice sounded as though it were suspended from a heated wire.

“You’re always going where you don’t belong, doing things that are none of your business.”

“The running of this ship is everyone’s business.” Her voice cracked with strain. “It’s supposed to be a democracy.”

“That doesn’t make me your errand boy.”

“Are you going to let us past your goon squad or not, Kieran?”

“Before you understand the situation? Before you’ve gotten any information from me about the prisoner? You just want to rush in there and stir the pot?” He was yelling now. He could feel his face heating up, turning red.

“It’s not like you’ve gotten any results!” She swatted the air with an open hand. “Let us try.”

“How do you know he’s said nothing?”

“You think your guards don’t talk?”

Harvey. He’d obviously made a report to the council. She’d managed to turn one of his most loyal guards. Kieran narrowed his eyes at her. She folded her arms over her chest. Her leg was tapping a jackrabbit rhythm on the floor, which made him grind his teeth.

“You’re going to get even more people hurt,” he finally said to her, using his voice like a knife, probing for a soft spot.

“What are you talking about?” She’d gone ashen, and her leg stopped its motion.

“If it wasn’t for you, poor Philip wouldn’t be—” Kieran stopped himself.

“What do you mean? That was random chance! You can’t blame me for—” She stopped mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open. Slowly, her eyes turned into two black pinpoints.

He tried to think of something to say that would deflect her, painfully aware that the longer he was silent, the guiltier he seemed.

“You had me followed,” Waverly said quietly. “Philip was reporting to you. Wasn’t he?”

“No,” he said, but he made the mistake of trying to laugh off the suggestion. He couldn’t have seemed more inauthentic if he’d tried.

She stood up. “You’re a liar.”

He pointed a finger in her face. “You gave me cause.”

“So you admit it.”

“Are you going to stand there and try to convince me that you weren’t helping Seth Ardvale? Really, Waverly?” His voice rose to a scream. His ears rang with every word. He’d been taken over, and he couldn’t stop himself. “You were on your way to meet him! You didn’t find the terrorist! He found you!”

“He almost killed us!” Waverly croaked. “Believe me, I’d rather I hadn’t found him!”

“Don’t give me that! It’s the best thing that could have happened for you politically!”

“You remind me more of Anne Mather every day!” Her voice broke on the last words, and her hand flew to her throat. “You’re using your pulpit to brainwash people!”

“I’m keeping them aloft! They’d sink into despair otherwise!”

“Without their messiah Kieran Alden to show them the way?” she snarled. “You’re disgusting!”

He swung back, ready to slap her. But he stopped himself.

She stood there, breathing through flared nostrils, her eyes red, hair askew, fists hanging at her sides as though she were ready to tackle him to the floor. They stared at each other, the air between them crackling, until she whirled around and marched out of his office.

WILD JUSTICE

“He said no,” Waverly said bitterly as she came back into the council chamber.

The rest of the council accepted this news with grim resignation. Alia and Melissa both smiled sadly at Waverly as she dropped into her seat at the large oval table.

“I should have gone,” croaked Arthur.

“No, we need him to trust you, Arthur,” Waverly said with a dim smile.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and kick. But she could only finger the device she had secreted in her pocket.
I’ll use it,
she told herself.
One way or another.

Alia was looking pensively out the domed glass ceiling at the Milky Way, dense with tiny stars. Harvey and Melissa were staring at their folded hands. Tobin Ames seemed troubled by the news and chewed on a cuticle, his eyes off to the side while he thought. Sealy Arndt simply looked furious.

“So,” Alia ventured with her velvety voice. “What you’re telling us is that we will have to go down there and force our way in.”

Harvey shook his head. “Those guards are loyal to Kieran. They’re not going to go against his orders.”

“So it could get violent,” Waverly said with dread. She’d had enough blood.

“What about the Justice of the Peace? Can we appeal to Bobby?” Tobin asked. “If we have the law on our side, let’s use it.”

“Can we call him in?” Arthur asked.

Melissa went to the intercom and asked Sarek in Central Command to find Bobby Martin. While they waited, Waverly told them that Kieran had ordered Philip to follow her.

“He was spying on you?” Melissa asked, her eyes round.

“Are you really surprised?” Waverly asked.

“Can you blame him?” Arthur croaked, and all eyes were on him. “Waverly, you were visiting Seth Ardvale in the brig. How did you expect Kieran to react to that?”

“Reasonably. I saw him one time!”

“And you were clearly meeting Seth in the observatory,” Harvey said, his eyebrows lowered over his wide, farm-boy eyes.

“So we condone spying on our own crew members?” Waverly spat, then coughed. Her throat still felt scratchy and weak.

“We are all afraid,” Alia said simply. “Fear makes people do terrible things.”

“Well, it shouldn’t go against people’s rights,” Waverly said stubbornly.

“Ideally it shouldn’t,” Arthur rasped quietly. “But nothing about our situation is ideal.”

Waverly felt chastened, and dropped out of the conversation for a while, until it turned to the prisoner and interrogating him.

“We should have a list of questions for the terrorist,” Tobin was saying. “We can’t just go in there without knowing what we want to ask.”

“He’s been in contact with the New Horizon,” Waverly said, leaning into the conversation, making them look at her. “He might know something about what’s going on there.”

“Yes,” Alia said. “He might know where the prisoners are being kept.”

“And who they are,” Melissa Dickinson put in. “Maybe some of our parents…”

“And how they’re being guarded,” said Harvey.

Arthur pulled a portable computer from his satchel and began to type out questions. They were still working when Bobby Martin came in, looking exhausted. His white-blond hair was a messy thatch over his pale blue eyes, which made a shocking contrast with his olive-toned skin. Someday, he could be even more handsome than Seth Ardvale, Waverly thought while she watched him pull out a chair at the council table. For now, though, he was still a boy. Judging from his smell, he’d been spreading sheep manure in the potato field.

“I bet this is about the prisoner,” he said, looking at Arthur, who he seemed to assume was the leader of the Central Council. Waverly was irritated by this, but she ignored it.

“We want access to him,” she said, using her voice firmly so he’d know he couldn’t ignore her. “We want to interrogate him.”

“I thought Kieran was taking the lead on that,” he said, his eyes darting from one face to another.

“We think we could be … more effective,” Sealy said. He wove his knobby fingers together and leaned his elbows on the table. “We’ll get to the core of the matter a little faster.”

“Why do you need me?” Bobby asked, his voice squeaking, making him sound like the young boy he was.

“Kieran doesn’t want to grant us access,” Alia said.

“And according to the rules of incarceration, we have the right—” Waverly began, but Bobby cut her off.

“Hand me the bylaws,” he said, shaking his hand at Arthur, who turned to the shelf behind him and pulled down the volume.

“Page forty-two,” Waverly said as Bobby thumbed through the book. He read the section, his pale eyes darting across the page as he sucked on his lower lip. He was silent, the whole room was, while he considered the meaning of the words.