Spark: A Sky Chasers Novel (31 page)

“Sarek,” he said, but the doors were already opening. As gently as he could, he guided the shuttle into the air lock and waited for the sound of the hydraulics closing the door and then the explosive sound of the air being pulled away until all that surrounded his ship was a vacuum. The doors in front of him opened, and his heart jerked in his chest.

“Oh God,” he said. The New Horizon hung right in front of him, hulking and silent and waiting to swallow him whole. Suddenly, he didn’t know if he could really do this. But then he found he
was
doing it. The shuttle was pulling out of the Empyrean, poking out its nose like a lizard leaving its hole. Soon there was nowhere to go but into that woman’s clutches.

“Sarek,” Kieran said with a nervous chuckle. “Just tell me I’m not a human sacrifice, will you?”

Sarek laughed grimly. “You know, Kieran, maybe it’s true, what they say.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You do have a messiah complex.”

Kieran smiled and finally said what he hadn’t been able to say before. “I love you, my friend.”

There was an awkward pause. Sarek wouldn’t meet his eyes in the vid screen, but then a smile seemed to lighten his face. “You’re not my type.”

Kieran laughed. “I’ll take that as an ‘I love you, too.’”

Sarek’s smile wiped away, and he blinked away tears. “Be careful, okay?”

Before he could answer, Sarek severed the com link.

Kieran was on his own.

THE PARTY

Kieran guided the shuttle into the air lock on the New Horizon, holding his breath until he heard the outer doors close behind him. When the inner door slid open, he was surprised to see a crowd of people clapping and cheering as he nervously set the shuttle down on the floor. He looked at them through the porthole, flabbergasted. They were all wearing simple white tunics and black pants, with sandals on their feet. Many of the women held wobble-headed infants and lifted their tiny hands to wave at Kieran. Anne Mather stood at the center of it all, smiling as though welcoming a wayward son.

Kieran walked down the shuttle ramp and into Mather’s waiting arms. She was surprisingly small for such a formidable woman, with a pigeon figure and rosy cheeks. Her skin was smooth, though he could see a webwork of capillaries just under the surface. Her nose was shiny with oil, and her teeth looked like they’d been stained by tea or coffee. He was surprised, not just by her short stature, but by her obvious human fallibility.
She ages. She weakens. One day she will die.
Until now he’d thought of her as a timeless monolith, one who was despised and feared, like a demon-goddess.

She kissed both his cheeks, then took his hand and turned around to face the crowd. “Let’s show Kieran Alden a real New Horizon welcome!”

The crowd erupted into robust cheers. Waverly and the girls had described a crew that had been weakened by years of low gravity, but he saw no sign of it now. Everyone here looked healthy and strong. Kieran tried to count the people; the crowd couldn’t number more than fifty, but they filled the shuttle bay with their voices. Kieran didn’t know what to do, so he waved at them. He felt off balance, and he supposed that’s exactly what Anne Mather wanted.

“Can we talk?” Kieran asked her. He was aware of the half-moons of sweat seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and his palms felt sticky. Despite the cheery welcome, he’d never been more afraid in his life. He raised an eyebrow at the woman to show her these theatrics didn’t impress him. “The celebration seems … premature. We haven’t agreed on a treaty yet.”

“All in good time. First I wanted to welcome you aboard with a banquet.”

He opened his mouth to refuse but was swept up by a crowd of women who drew him across the shuttle bay, chattering in his ear about how happy they were he came, it was so nice to see such a young, handsome man, and already piloting shuttles! How remarkable! He looked for Anne Mather, who walked at the rear of the crowd, a smile creasing her face, though her eyes were narrow and watchful.

They led him to the stairwell and up. Kieran looked behind him to see a long stream of people coming up the stairs. He became aware that they were singing a song of celebration, though with the echo in the stairwell, he couldn’t make out the words. The tune was just familiar enough to create a surreal effect. He hadn’t expected anything like this, and it made his head swim.

They led him to the central bunker. All the cots had been removed, and in their place were dozens of banquet tables with white tablecloths. The entire room was lavishly decorated with palm fronds and bouquets of Asian lilies, irises, sunflowers, and ferns. Someone took his hand, and he turned to see Mather smiling at him. She pulled him toward a stage set with a long, narrow table, where a dozen aging adults were seated, waiting with austere frowns on their faces. He took his place at the table, just to one side of a podium, and looked up disbelievingly at Anne Mather, who held up a hand for the crowd to settle down.

It had to have been choreographed, because once the room had faded into silence, someone hummed a note, and then the entire crowd took up a melody. It was a three-part harmony with Latin words repeated over and over, sung by voices of all ranges. It was beautiful, but Kieran was filled with a sense of foreboding. There seemed to be a strange disconnect between the reality of the situation and what was happening here. As though none of these people were willing to acknowledge the terrible wrongs they’d committed. How could he negotiate with such people?

When the song finished, Anne Mather took the podium. She smiled down at the crowd—at her congregation, Kieran realized—and said, “
Dona nobis pacem.
‘Give us peace.’ I can’t think of a more appropriate way to begin this day! Now, let’s bow our heads and give thanks for the presence of our friend Kieran Alden.”

Obediently, every head in the room lowered. Kieran folded his hands, but he kept one eye on Mather as she spoke into her microphone.

“Peace be upon you,” she said to her congregation.

“Peace be upon you,” they parroted.

“Lord”—Anne Mather raised her hands over her head as though to touch the divine presence in the air—“it is our fervent wish that you will guide our negotiations with the emissary from the Empyrean, that we may coexist on New Earth for generations. We seek your presence at our table. Help us know what to ask and how to answer, that we may reach an understanding with each other and, if it is not too much to hope, that we might come together in brotherly love and give glory to your name. Amen.”

“Amen!” the crowd responded.

The doors at the back of the room opened, and people wheeled in carts filled with trays of food. They offered Kieran fruits both dried and fresh, glazed pastries, breads filled with dates and nuts, chilled shrimp, and pies. He took small portions, but he was too unsettled to eat. The people sitting at the tables below him talked jovially, patting one another’s backs. Here and there, out of the corner of his eye, he’d sense someone watching him from the crowd. As soon as he turned to seek them out, they’d already turned to their neighbor, laughing lustily as if sharing a joke.

It’s all an act,
Kieran thought.
This isn’t real.

He got up from his chair at the long table, and immediately the crowd subsided to a lull as every eye watched him cross the stage to where Anne Mather was seated at the end of the table, talking with an old woman. Kieran saw two large men standing at the back of the room rush forward, and they hovered nearby, watchful. He ignored them and leaned down to Mather, close enough that he could smell the bread she was chewing, and said in her ear, “I want to see the prisoners right now.”

“But everyone is so happy you’re here!” she said, batting her eyelashes. “I wanted to share this moment with them.”

“I’m not here to be shown a good time,” he snarled. “You and I have business.”

“I’m aware,” she said. “But it’s customary to show a diplomat the courtesy of a celebration upon his arrival. I suppose you’re not familiar with the old customs of Earth.”

Why was it so difficult to talk to this woman? “I need to see the prisoners right now, and then I need to get to a com station.”

“Oh.” She gave a half turn of her head. “Why is that?”

“They’re waiting to hear that I’ve arrived safely.”

“All right,” she said with a bland smile. “I’ll take you to one just as soon as I can.”

She placed an olive on her tongue, making no move to leave.

Kieran looked around him, feeling helplessly trapped. This party was insane. Negotiations hadn’t begun, yet he had a feeling that in some uncanny way, Mather had already beaten him.

Because she’s counting on me to be polite
, he realized.
She doesn’t think I’m willing to make a scene.

With a stroke of inspiration, he walked to the microphone at the podium and turned it on. “Hello?” he said, and his voice boomed through the speakers. Immediately the room sank into silence. Even the people serving food stopped what they were doing to look at him.

“If this exercise in insanity is finished, I’d like to be taken to see the prisoners from the Empyrean. Now.”

Anne Mather was looking at him, stone-faced, but still she didn’t move from her perch.

“NOW!” he yelled into the microphone. The people sitting near the speakers cried out, covering their ears with their hands.

Mather stood up, threw her napkin on the table, and marched up to Kieran.

“These people have worked so hard—”

“NOW!” he screamed at the tops of his lungs. The microphone whistled a piercing tone that seemed to drill through the channels in his ears.

Mather glared at him and took the microphone from the podium. “I’m sorry, everyone, but our guest of honor has to leave.”

She turned on her heel and walked out of the room with Kieran right behind her.

“They prepared a good-bye song,” she said under her breath. “All that practice for nothing.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? That I can be won over with a couple songs and some nice food?”

“I wanted you to feel like an honored guest.”

“You wanted me to feel like a fool,” Kieran snarled at her.

She gave him an injured look. In that moment, he hated her enough to kill her.

She led him across the corridor to Central Command, which looked much larger somehow than it did on the Empyrean. It buzzed with people rushing around, speaking urgently into headsets. How smoothly things would run on the Empyrean if he had a full crew of reliable deck officers! Even in this, Mather had the advantage.

“Hail the Empyrean,” Mather said to a small, tired-looking woman, who nodded cursorily.

“I want to see the prisoners first,” Kieran said.

“You said you needed to tell them you’ve arrived safely,” Mather said, wide-eyed.

“After I see the prisoners,” Kieran said.

“I have the Empyrean,” the woman told Mather.

Mather looked at Kieran, eyebrows raised expectantly.

There was no code word for this, no way to communicate clearly what had happened. He took the headset from the sullen woman and leaned over the com screen to see Sarek’s face.

Sarek released a sigh of relief when he saw Kieran. “You’re okay.”

“I’m fine, but I haven’t seen the prisoners yet.”

Sarek’s expression darkened. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Kieran said, feeling inadequate. A better man, a better leader, could have talked his way in to see the prisoners. He was messing everything up. Already their plan was frustrated. “They’re stalling.”

Sarek paused as though trying to read Kieran’s face, looking for a hidden message. He finally asked, “How are negotiations going?”

“They haven’t begun.”

“You should come back, then,” Sarek said after a pause.

“If you like, Kieran, you and I can go to my office and share a pot of tea,” Mather said from behind him.

“This isn’t a social visit!” Kieran yelled. The woman at the com station jumped in her seat. “If I’m not taken to the prisoners immediately—”

“But my dear boy, that’s not how negotiations work. First you give me something I want, then I give you something you want. This is going to take time.”

He pounded the com board with his fist. He had to decide what to do
now.
When he made eye contact with Sarek, the other boy raised his eyebrows.

“Sit tight, Sarek,” Kieran finally said.
God, please, let this be the right thing
.

Sarek nodded, then swallowed hard.

Suddenly an alarm from the Empyrean screeched through the com speakers. Anne Mather stood from the Captain’s chair and rushed to the screen. Sarek had disappeared from view, but Kieran could see his shadow moving frantically across the back wall of Central Command. Sarek’s panicked voice sounded over the speakers, though the words were indistinct. Finally he rushed back into view, panting.

“There’s been an accident!” Sarek cried. “Kids hurt by a combine. Oh God!”

“Can we offer assistance?” Anne Mather said.

Sarek looked at Kieran, and Kieran looked at Anne Mather. “We don’t have any doctors on board,” Kieran said.

“Bring the injured here!” Mather said simply. “Can you get them on a shuttle, or do you need us to come get you?”

“I can get them on a shuttle,” Sarek said, “if you can get your medical team ready. It sounds bad.”

“I’ll send a team down to wait for you in our port shuttle bay,” Mather said, and nodded to a com technician, who spoke quietly into her mouthpiece.

“Thank you,” Kieran said, pressing his cold palms against his thighs. “It’s been really hard without a doctor.”

“Now, maybe we can go someplace to talk,” Mather said, and drew him out of Central Command and into her office next door.

The room configuration was identical to his own office, but the decor was very different. She had tapestries hanging on the walls, giving the room a warm feeling. There was something odd about the way the items on her desk were arranged—a blotter pad, a notebook, a diary, a picture frame—each item perfectly aligned, books precisely angled in harmony with the corners of the desk, pen neatly resting at the center top of the blotting pad. Everything calibrated, considered, perfect, as though a machine worked here, not a person.