Building Harlequin’s Moon (30 page)

“Sam, let me finish. Council has a problem. There aren’t enough of them to do everything here. They need us to help. They will never say so. But some of us have been doing the math. Council can’t meet their goals if they don’t use more of us to run teams. We have to be ready. We have to learn well, and work hard, and show them that we can do more than they let us do now.”

Sam had turned away from her and was whispering to his friends. Rachel kept talking. It was important for her to have control, but at least some of the Children must understand what she was telling them.

“I’ve seen how much some of you have learned. One way to learn more is to watch. Be careful, be smart. I’m taking the top three students with me into the field for two days. I hope that those of you in that group will think about what I’ve said, and be willing to talk about how to make ourselves more useful to Council while we’re gone. Not for Council’s sake, but for our own. We are the Children of Selene.” She noticed which students listened. It was enough . . . a beginning. Maybe it would make some of them think.

She moved the class on to final testing. There were no student plots to review; Rachel wasn’t allowed the extended curriculum Gabriel had used with her.

The afternoon passed, the students with their heads down over their pads. Rachel set them playing and carefully graded everything, watching constantly for Shane or Star. She stood on the edge of the field watching the students. They were restless, watching her.

Rachel sighed and climbed onto the dais, doing her best to look official. She called the students over to give them final scores. She’d agreed to this role, but she didn’t like it. Not unsupported. Shane or Star should be here.

“First, the top three students are Beth Rachel, Kelly, and Eric.” Then she read off a list that included all but three of the other students. “All of you did well enough to pass, although some of you barely squeaked by. That means Shane or Star will assign you to work crews. But in the meantime, you’ve got three days off.”

The children got up and left, all except Sam, Rudy, and Antonia. Beth waited at the edge of the field, and Rachel gestured to her to stay. It made her feel a little better to have Beth waiting for her. She looked around for any sign of Shane or Star. This speech was as hard to start as her first one had been. “Sam, Rudy, and Antonia. I’m sorry, but you three simply didn’t do enough of the work to pass. You may petition Shane or Star to take the class again, or you can join the planting crews as failed students, which means you won’t get very good job assignments. I’d suggest the first choice, but I can’t speak for Shane or Star, and I don’t know what they’ll let you do.”

Antonia stood up and left, walking fast, as if she didn’t want Rachel to see she was disappointed. Sam and Rudy looked at each other and stood up slowly. Sam glared at her, not moving, not saying anything. Rachel tensed for a problem. She breathed out a slow sigh of relief when they turned and walked away. They didn’t look back at her, but
she heard an angry edge to their words as they talked to each other, even though she couldn’t tell what they were saying.

Beth and Rachel walked back from the test with the light falling to gray, talking about how to pack gear into small packs they needed for the trip.

Trees at the side of the path rustled and Sam and Rudy stepped in front of them, barring their way. Sam’s eyes darted around, looking for other people, and then he focused on Rachel, letting his rage show.

Rachel stopped and said, “Beth, why don’t you go on, and head home to get your gear packed.”

Beth’s voice quivered, but she said, “No, I’ll wait for you.”

Rachel stayed quiet, forcing the boys to take the offensive or leave.

Sam glared at her. “You’re not supposed to be here. We don’t want you to be our teacher.” Rudy said nothing but stood behind Sam, arms crossed. Sam continued. “You should have passed me. If you were really one of us, you would have passed me. It’s not right to pretend you’re on our side, and then betray us. You need to—to go back to
John Glenn
. We don’t need your kind here.”

“My kind? There’s only one of me, Sam.” It dawned on her that
John Glenn’s
, spin gravity had made her stronger than he was. One blow would knock him sprawling. Was he armed?

“I believe I’m a lot like you.” She was pleased that her voice sounded strong. “You know we’re watched,” she warned.

“Council doesn’t bother to watch much,” Rudy said from behind Sam.

Sam pressed on. “If you were like us, you’d be the same age as our parents. You’re almost like Council.” Sam drew himself up, looking more confident now that he’d gotten most of his message out. He finished by repeating himself
“You don’t belong. Go live forever somewhere else. We didn’t ask you to come teach us.”

“She does too belong!” Beth’s voice was stronger, although she remained behind Rachel.

“Sam, you get your wish. I won’t teach you. Don’t ever come back to my class. Excuse us,” Rachel said, taking Beth’s hand and stepping toward the pair.

Rudy moved next to Sam, removing any chance the women had’of snaking past the young men. “Not until you agree that you don’t belong here.” His voice was edgy, and Rachel checked her wrist pad. Yes, it was sending to Astronaut and Treesa.

Sam reached toward her.

R
ACHEL SIDESTEPPED, TRYING
to watch Sam and Rudy at the same time. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Beth.

A new voice spoke from the side of the path. “Sam, is that what you want?”

Sam stopped in midstride. His hand fell to his side.

“They’ll bring more newly warmed Earth Born to help guide and teach you. I’d have thought you had enough of that already.” The speaker, a tall man about Nick’s age, stepped onto the path between Sam and Rachel.

Sam immediately lost the defiance in his voice. “Hhh-hello, Andrew.”

Rachel would have known him anywhere. The cold anger on his face looked just like it did the last time she saw him, defiant and tough and confident.

Andrew’s eyes flicked toward Rachel. “Tell him why you failed him.”

She didn’t want to follow Andrew’s orders—she had to retain control of the situation somehow or she’d never succeed with Sam or Rudy. “He knows. Sam can tell you how much he studied, or not.”

No one responded. Rachel used the moment to study Andrew. He was thin and tall, and muscles stood out in cords along his neck and arms. A scar snaked down the side of his left arm. He still wore metal armbands. His hair was cropped short. With a start, she realized that Andrew had grown into an attractive man. He was much more physically powerful than most Children. A moment ago, she had expected to outface the two students. Now, she didn’t know what to do. She focused her gaze on Andrew’s face.

“Well,” he said, “aren’t you happy to see an old friend?”

Rachel stepped backward, pushing Beth Rachel behind her again.

Andrew looked at Sam and Rudy, and said, “Don’t
ever
let me catch you bothering Rachel again. Leave us.”

They vanished into the brush.

Rachel heard footsteps crunching on dry leaves and caught herself wishing they hadn’t gone. Andrew worried her more than Sam and Rudy.

Beth spoke from behind her, sounding happy. “Hi, Andrew, thanks. They were being bullies again. They make me
so
mad when they act like that! I don’t know what they have against Rachel.”

Andrew spoke gently to the younger girl. “Rachel has more power than they do, and they don’t understand her. When I was Sam’s age, I used to get mad at her too.”

What did he mean? “Sam reminds me of you,” Rachel said.

“I was like Sam.” His voice sounded tight, controlled, and this time when he looked at her she saw naked longing. It scared her. What did he want?

His voice was oddly gentle as he said, “Run along, Beth—I need to talk to your namesake.”

Beth smiled hesitantly at Rachel, but she obeyed Andrew as quickly as Sam and Rudy had, walking away down the middle of the path. She looked back once, as if to say “It’s okay,” and then she rounded a bend and was gone.

Rachel was alone with Andrew. Why did everyone, even Beth, do what he wanted?

He looked at the ground, shifted, and finally looked back up at her, searching her eyes for something he didn’t seem to find. “I’m sorry. I’ve owed you this a long time. A real apology. I replanted the tree, Rachel, but it
died
. I didn’t mean for the tree to die—I asked Harry to tell you that. It would have been just a
joke
if the tree hadn’t died.” His eyes bored into hers, deeply black and intense. He seemed to be waiting for something more, and then he just said, “Rachel, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of the things I was to you, and to everyone. I . . . I missed you when you were gone. I didn’t come find you right away, because I didn’t expect you to come back the same age as when you left.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You could say thank you for stopping Sam and Rudy, or thank you for apologizing.”

It was flat, but she said it, “Thank you.”

“They won’t bother you any more. I would have told them earlier, but I just found out a few days ago that you were here, that you’re alive.”

Rachel stepped back, increasing the distance between them a little.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” he said. “I thought they’d lied to us.”

“They froze me.” It seemed an inadequate thing to say. “It was an accident. Sort of.”

“The kind of accident that happens when nobody gives a shit?”

Rachel didn’t answer, because he was right.

“Does it make you one of the Council? Did you get any of the powers they have? Will you live forever? You are the only one of us who’s even seen how they live—what they have. It should be ours too. But they use us to do the hard work, they tell us nothing, and they don’t give us anything—important—to do.”

Rachel couldn’t find an answer. They stood awkwardly, looking at each other.

“I’m glad you’re teaching again,” Andrew said.

“Me too.” She was cautious.

“Follow me,” Andrew said, taking off down the path. “I need to talk to you.”

Rachel hesitated, but after all, Andrew
had
intervened with the younger boys. She was recording. Andrew couldn’t know how good her tech was. Astronaut knew where she was all the time. She glanced at her wrist: she had an hour before she was supposed to be at Harry and Gloria’s.

Andrew led her into the trees, finally sitting down where branches and leaves folded over their heads and hid the sky. Rachel stayed standing, wanting to be able to leave easily.

Andrew’s face was shadowed, a silhouette. “I don’t want to be overheard,” he said. “I know they can find out anything, but they haven’t gotten me in trouble for things I’ve said when they can’t see me. So when I need to talk about something important, I go where I can’t see them, and it seems like they don’t see me.”

He fell silent for a moment.

Rachel didn’t tell him that they were hidden by more sophisticated means. Astronaut and Treesa surely knew that she shouldn’t be seen with Andrew.

Andrew continued. “Rachel, we have to make Council leave us alone, and quit telling us what to do. I’ve been working with some of the students for a few years, telling them what I know about Council. We have to find a way to act against the Council.”

Rachel thought again of Sam and Rudy leaving just because
Andrew said so, doing his bidding so easily. What was he up to? “How do you plan to change things?”

He was silent for a moment. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. We slow things down sometimes. Mostly we act as stupid as they think we are, and we learn what we can and share it. But that’s nothing. We have to plan something more—but I don’t know what to do yet.” Some of the bravado had leaked away. “But I do know what’s happening to us isn’t okay. They need us, so we have a lever; we just have to find a way to use it. Help me find it? I need you.” He looked up at her, and again she saw that naked plea. “I need what you know; you have more contact with Council than any of us.”

He scrambled to his feet, so his eyes were even with hers.

She wasn’t ready to give him any information. “You can’t act directly against them, Andrew. You of all people should know that. They could . . . they could just let us die off and start over. They could kill us all. I’ve read about wars, about people fighting people, and we don’t have the resources to fight Council. They have what we need, Andrew, but there is no way we can take it by force. Our only hope is to educate ourselves enough, become useful enough—”

“Helping them won’t change the balance of power.”

“It might,” she insisted. “Rebelling won’t—it can’t work. Why act stupid? You can’t act stupid and get respect. I told my students the same thing today.”

“I heard you.” Now Andrew looked at the ground. “It was a good talk. But talk can’t change anything. We’re treated like balky tools. They make us work, but they don’t trust us to do anything real. Heck, they don’t trust
me
at all. I’m a symbol for them. But I earned that. You haven’t earned anything but trust—but do they trust you? Do they?”

“Some of them do,” Rachel said.

“Do they?” Andrew repeated.

“I’ll earn more trust.” Rachel’s words sounded naive, even to her. Andrew was voicing her own feelings about
Council. But force wouldn’t—couldn’t—work. “You haven’t seen their resources, Andrew.”

“Rachel, we have to act. You can help me. We can work together. You and I can force them to treat us differently, to tell us more, to let us stay young and healthy, like them.”

She shook her head, worried about how militant he sounded. “Of all people, you should know that they see everything we do.”

“I do know that.” After a few moments he said, “They can’t hear everything. They don’t have time. Some risks have to be taken. I . . . we . . . can’t trust the Earth Born any more than Council. We’re all you
can
trust, Rachel: the Children of Selene. You have to see that.”

The last edges of twin shadows winked into darkness. “I have to go,” she said, and stood and started back the way they came.