The Proving (10 page)

The Ring orbited Earth, watching and waiting. Specters hunted under the cover of night like ghosts searching for a permanent resting place. For thousands of years, human societies have imagined ghosts. The breath that escapes one’s mouth on a cold day was once seen as proof of an ethereal soul. Where once human beings spoke of demons and spirits, now they spoke only of the real ones: Specters. Creatures who could pass through your body and steal your life from you, leaving only a wrinkled, gray husk behind.

It occurred to Seamus that he didn’t really want to do this.

But it was too late.

Ghosts are among us, Gabriel’s grandfather always said. Life and death are so intertwined that it’s sometimes impossible to tell the difference. When exactly, is a creature dead? When its heart stops beating? When its brain stops functioning? When the beetles have picked its bones clean? Death provides for life.

And of course life carries the certainty of death.

He reached over and double-checked his little sister’s straps. Wei wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m fine, Gabe. Don’t be embarrassing!”

“OK, OK,” he said, leaning back in his seat, feeling the Tumbler gently tilt as it followed a curve in the mag-rail track. He adjusted his smartglasses again. They felt light on the bridge of his nose. Cleo had passed them out without explanation, saying only that the glasses didn’t come in a variety of fashion styles. She’d looked at Gabriel when she said this.

Across from him, the two siblings from Clan Athens watched him. Dim track lights ran along the edges of the ceiling, illuminating the Tumbler’s cramped personnel compartment and the electronics on the walls. It was an advanced machine, so complicated that Gabriel dared not touch a single thing. He was totally, completely, without a doubt out of his element here.

“Just leave it up to the clans,” he murmured, remembering what his parents had told him.

“What?”

He turned to Wei. She looked so cute, strapped into a seat that was clearly designed for someone much taller. Her legs dangled. Her Ecosuit was a stark contrast from her usual white dresses. Women in Parliament were wearing white dresses a lot now, and Wei was copying the style, usually by threading her own needle and modifying dresses she could find at the consignment shop on the fifth floor of their apartment building.

Now, Gabriel wouldn’t say it bugged him that she shopped there — far be it for him to judge a citizen for reusing old clothing! — but as the child of two famous Parliamentarians, Wei did have a certain responsibility to maintain a level of respectability in public.

Not that
she
cared much.

It would have been a bigger issue if she wasn’t so good at sewing wonderful clothes. Where some might pay a few credits to send their secondhand clothes to a modification factory, Wei did it all herself.

Naturally, her Ecosuit had to be modified as well. Sometime during the week, she’d found the time to carefully embroider black stars onto her white half-cape that hung from her left shoulder. She’d also done it to Gabriel’s suit, too, without his knowledge. As if they didn’t already stand out enough among the clan members, now they had
decorative
capes. Useless relics of antiquity.

“You’re mumbling to yourself,” Wei told him in a quiet voice.

He raised his eyebrows. “And?”

Wei shrugged. “Mother told you to stop doing that.” She wiggled her dangling legs. “This seat is soooo uncomfortable.”

Gabriel leaned forward and looked left, toward the front of the Tumbler. Both of the representatives from Clan Persia were sitting at the complicated-looking control panels located just behind the two driver’s seats. The older girl — Cleo — had brought up a map of the city on her holoscreen and was using her fingers to spin it slowly like a pinwheel. The young boy looked to be playing some kind of game.

In the front were the two Spartans, sitting in the driver’s seats with their backs to everyone else, just like Clan Sparta liked it. Through the blast-proof windshield, Gabriel could see a light at the end of the tunnel, which meant they were near the western district of Neo Berlin. Beyond the western district were the two- and three-story houses belonging to those who chose to work and rise through the ranks in whatever industry/culture/profession they chose. Free citizens and clan leaders alike. Beyond that: factories. Beyond that: the outskirts, full of experimental Athenian farms and Clan Persia robotics testing centers and Clan Sparta training facilities.

“Here we go,” Gabriel said. He reached out and dramatically grabbed his sister’s arm. “Exit tunnel . . . now!”

Sunlight streamed in through the windshield. The mag-rail ascended, rising up over the small buildings below, cutting through a vast, hilly neighborhood on the western edge of the city proper. A temporary feeling of warmth rushed through Gabriel’s body. Here was the best of their world. Everyone received a monthly Basic Income regardless of what they did with their lives, but here were the people who’d made the decision to go out and be the best at something. Artists. Bakers. Welders. Clan scientists, soldiers and engineers. Doctors. Mechanics. Musicians. Cryo-techs. Robotics testers.

This was worth protecting. This world.

The western district of the city was so vast, so beautiful, that it was hard to catch your breath. Rolling hills lined with houses and crescent-shaped buildings and squat factories whose exteriors were lined with decorative art installations. Double helixes. Towering warriors. Abstract asterisks.

It was easy to ignore the VR cannons lining the city limits.

Wei held Gabriel’s hand. The Tumbler was moving faster now, cruising through the western district and toward the mountains that formed a jagged horizon. They passed two Clan Athens research campuses. Each campus was a cluster of unique architectural wonders, all sharp corners and tall windows; one campus on either side of the mag-lev track. Then there were more small homes belonging to a variety of professionals and management-types who could afford little front lawns. Small markets and specialty shops sat near the busiest streets. They were the types of shops that catered to those who clung to an era of the past, before most food could be automatically processed at home and most material items could either be designed by printing machines or simply delivered to your doorstop within an hour.

An era before Phenocyte reactors provided unlimited power.

And that, in Gabriel’s mind, was the biggest danger humanity faced now. Not the Specters — the Specters were just an annoyance. The Specters were kept at bay by the shields and eventually, they would all be destroyed. But unlimited energy? That was something else entirely. It meant limitless innovation. It meant constantly monitoring new inventions and making crucial decisions.

What are the benefits?

What are the consequences?

How far is too far?

The Athenian named Ben pointed to Gabriel’s left. “Um . . . should we answer that?”

Gabriel turned. The young Persian named Reza had his arms up in the air, his game blocked by a green box that read INCOMING MESSAGE in big letters. “What’s the deal?” he whined.

Cleo spun in her chair. “That means game time is over. Accept the message already!”

Reza hesitantly tapped the green ACCEPT button on the screen. The green box was replaced with the image of a middle-aged woman with green eyes and glossy brown shoulder-length hair. She was wearing a white dress with a beautiful flowery hem.

“Mom!” Wei said excitedly.

“Good morning, Coterie.” Carmen’s eyes panned the inside of the Tumbler. She could see all of them, Gabriel realized, and he fought the urge to wave. His little sister did not. Carmen smiled, then looked left, maybe to check and make sure the Spartans were the ones behind the wheel and not anyone else. The Spartans were the only ones trained to drive Tumblers and any other military vehicles. One of their clan’s “perks.”

Satisfied, Carmen continued: “In a few minutes, you will be traveling outside the Xenoshield that protects our city. Your Tumbler’s own shield system will activate automatically, but it won’t be strong enough to withstand a substantial Specter attack. Your Proving will take you into the Akishi mountain range. I’m sending you the coordinates now.”

A little red blip appeared on Cleo’s holoscreen map. “What is it?” she asked, turning back to the monitor.

“That,” Carmen said, “is the location of an emergency supply depot.”

Cleo gave her brother a knowing look. Gabriel wondered what it meant.

“The depot contains everything needed for survival outside the shield, including food, water, and a small solar power array to charge personal shield batteries,” Carmen said. “It also contains more than one thousand spare parts for the automated farming machines.”

“So what do we need to do there?” Cleo asked. “Grease the wheels or something like that?”

“Shut up and she’ll tell you,” snapped the Spartan, Skye.

Carmen looked around the interior of the Tumbler. Gabriel knew that look. She was waiting for them to get it out of their system. They were kids, through and through. That was exactly what she was thinking — she hated the Proving and was vocal about it. She hated the idea that kids had to grow up so fast, especially when the Xenoshields were so effective at keeping Specters away from civilization. What
remained
of civilization, at least.

But if the great Carmen Martinez’s son and daughter skipped the Proving? That would be a scandal that would ruin their family. And as much as she hated the Proving, Carmen loved being in power. Gabriel knew it, and Carmen knew her son knew it.

“We have identified a circuit malfunction in the depot’s solar array. Your Coterie’s mission,” she finally said in a slow, deliberately soft tone, “is to troubleshoot the malfunction and repair it. Once the supply depot’s emergency functions are back online, you will return.”

“That’s it?” Cleo shrugged, giving her brother that same look. “Seems like a cake walk. Now I’m excited.”

Carmen paused again. “This morning, Clan Persia detected an ice collision on the innermost section of the Ring. The resulting energy flare has caused satellite malfunctions in the northern hemisphere. You’ll have no satellite assistance for this mission. You are ordered to abort the mission if you believe the safety of your Coterie is threatened. You will
not
fail the Proving if this happens.”

“How long will the blackout last?” Ben asked.

“Indeterminate. The energy flare is being analyzed as we speak. As soon as orbital satellites are back up and running, I will establish a direct link and assess your progress.”

“So what the heck happened at the depot?” Cleo asked. “I mean, you’ve gotta have some idea. Did the heat signature drop first or did the station stop pinging? Because if the station stopped pinging, that means there’s a data issue . . .”

“We know little else,” Carmen answered. “We did not have time to assess the damage before the energy flare.”

Gabriel felt a strange chill run down his spine. The emergency supply depot stopped functioning right when the Ring was close enough to temporarily disable the planetary satellite array?

Coincidence. That’s all it was. This nervousness was because of his grandpa’s stories. His grandpa’s stories never had coincidences. Everything had purpose. But the Specters were mindless creatures. Not ghosts. Ghosts always had purpose in Grandpa’s old stories. They were either haunting their enemies or searching for justice or waiting restlessly for closure with loved ones.

“Historian.” Carmen’s eyes turned. “Thirty seconds of blackout.”

Gabriel turned to Seamus, who was sitting across the aisle beside the Athenian girl, Tahlia. Seamus simply nodded.

A black band appeared underneath Carmen’s holo-image with the word REDACTED repeated in an infinite loop. She looked around again, her eyes stopping on Gabriel. “These are less than ideal circumstances, but rescheduling your Proving would have been a political nightmare for myself and General Mitchell of Clan Sparta. If there is any danger whatsoever, you
will
return to the city. Understood, Spartan Mitchell?”

“Yes, Premier Martinez,” Skye said in a low voice, not turning around.

“Good luck to you all,” Carmen said. Her eyes turned, finding Gabriel and Wei. “Be strong.”

Her image disappeared. The Persian boy’s video game returned, asking him if he wanted to buy a new magical staff for his wizard character. Reza very casually clicked “Yes.”

“So . . .” Cleo raised a finger, swiveling in her chair. She looked at Gabriel. “Wasn’t that your mom, dasher?”

Gabriel frowned, angry. “Is that the new hip word all the clan brats are using?
Dasher
?”

Cleo shrugged. “It fits.”

“It’s a slang term for a trendy individual,” the Historian pointed out. “It isn’t actually new. Slang words tend to disappear and then pop up again over time.”

“Maybe I should just use
dude
,” Cleo offered. “That pops up often enough for a
free citizen
to recognize.” She crossed her legs. She looked to Gabriel like a child. And she’d tampered with her Ecosuit! She’d switched out the boots for something uglier, with heavy treads on the soles.