Fighting Gravity (21 page)

I dreamed of Abenez that night. I dreamed of Carrie with her new family, only they lived in the penthouse apartment in the building we’d grown up in. It was as bare and dirty as ours had been, just bigger. I found them there, Carrie, a gaunt, pale teenager, huddled in a corner. Our father stood over her, his belt raised. Thick, livid welts screamed on her bare arm. The belt cracked down again and the sound was like a world exploding.

He dropped the belt and hauled her up, shoving her against the wall. He grabbed her breast hard enough to make her cry out.

“Now, bitch, you know what I want.”

Carrie looked straight at me with hollow, hopeless eyes.

“Why?”

I woke up sobbing.

“What is it?” Pete asked, his hand warm and heavy on my arm. I was trembling so hard it hurt to try to hold myself together.

“Jake?”

I buried my face in the pillow and pretended I hadn’t woken enough to hear him. He wrapped his arm around me and stroked my face and hair until he fell asleep again, long before I did.

-

He waited for me to say something first. It was five days before I had anything to say about it. I came to find him in his office.

“Are you going to kill him?”

His eyes darted back and forth for a second as if he could catch the traces of the conversation he’d missed.

“Who?”

“That man.”

He knew what I was talking about then.

“No,” he said. “He’ll be Resettled.”

“I want to kill him.”

“I know. But that’s not how it works.”

“Why not? Make it work. You’re the emperor.”

He grimaced. “Believe it or not, Jake, I can’t just break the rules when it pleases me, or you. If I don’t abide by the laws too, the whole system falls apart.”

“It’s just one man.”

“It’s never just one man. Look, they know what he did. No one goes easy on child molesters. Not the judges or the Resettlement officials or the other inmates. And someone always manages to make sure wherever he’s sent they’ll know what he did. He’ll pay for what he did. For the rest of his life.”

“Just this once?”

He shook his head. “Not once, not ever.”

-

There was something missing in that argument that I couldn’t put my finger on, but it did prove one thing, I couldn’t count on Pete for help with this.

He meant well, I knew he did. But there were some things that you couldn’t talk about between an unclass and the emperor himself. And in spite of whatever else we were to each other, we were still that.

As if in some cruel cosmic joke, the months after Carrie died were some of the best I can remember. Maybe Pete was trying to make it up to me. Maybe I was trying to make it up to her, by living for both of us.

-

It was at an evening party Pete was holding for the Torrean ambassador when Blaine sidled up to me.

“It’s a shame about Carrie.”

I nearly dropped my drink. “What?”

“Your sister. I heard how she died.”

I stopped myself asking him how he knew. He’d told me that already, back on the ship.

“It was one of your precious high class who did something like that to her,” I hissed.

“Yes,” he said. “A high class man. And he knew exactly what you’d put in his home. What else was he to do with that?”

Jonathan had come up beside me and if he wasn’t in time to hear what Blaine said, he saw what I made of it. Jonathan grabbed my arm as my fist flew toward Blaine and he put all of his weight into it. I stumbled backward with the power of the counter-force applied against my fury.

“Jacob!”

I was never sure afterward if Jonathan had actually used my name or if I’d imagined it.

I straightened slowly, in the echoing hush that fell around us. Blaine smirked at me.

“Are you well, Mr. Dawes?”

Jonathan pulled hard on my arm. “His Excellence sent for you, Mr. Dawes.”

I glared at Jonathan but he didn’t drop my gaze.

“I believe it’s rather important,” he said.

I shoved Jonathan hard as I turned and stormed off.

-

“Blaine’s an ass,” was my only answer when Pete asked me that night in our rooms what had happened at the party.

“You know you can talk to me,” he said, hesitantly. “If there’s anything wrong. Just talk, you know.” He slid his arms around me from behind and laid his cheek on my shoulder. “I love you.”

“If there was anything to tell, honestly, I’d tell you. Who else do I even talk to?”

He snorted.

“Sometimes I wonder what you’re doing behind this brooding exterior,” he said.

“Yeah. Me too.”

I may not have known how to talk to him, but I did love him, and he made me as happy as I’d ever been, more than I thought was possible.

fg
24

A few weeks after our nineteenth birthday, he returned to our room in silence one evening, radiating tension.

That meant there was trouble with Wildflower Hill and he was trying not to tell me about it. After all, I was the one who wouldn’t talk about it. My policy of silence on all things political had become a force all its own since the first assassinations nine months back.

“I found the problem with the fusion experiment,” I said. He looked at me, pushing down his shoulders with an obvious effort. “It was a cracked tube. Just a hairline. You wouldn’t see it unless you were really looking for it. That explains why the results were deteriorating over time. It’s two weeks’ work lost, but at least I’ve found it now.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement, but said nothing. After a while, I picked up the tablet I’d put down when he entered. His frustration was like a raging fire against my wall of disinterest, but I pretended to read.

Finally he took a deep breath. “I’m leaving for Carolis in the morning.” He hesitated. “You’re welcome to come with me.”

“I don’t think I can leave the fusion project right now,” I said. We both knew it was a diplomatic lie.

“Oh.”

“How long will you be gone?” I asked.

He looked away and shrugged. “I don’t know.” His face was tense and he straightened, as if he’d made a decision, and met my eye. “They’ve taken hostages this time. A whole platoon of the additional troops we just sent in. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Until things are under control. Maybe until a workable agreement is reached.” He let out a huge sigh, like draining a pressure valve, now that the news was off his chest. “I don’t know.”

It was more than he’d said to me about Wildflower Hill in the last year.

“Oh.” I looked down at the tablet again, as if that was somehow a logical conclusion to the conversation. Even I could see how ridiculous it was. He was going to another planet to deal with an armed uprising, and I was going to see him off with nothing but polite noises?

But I didn’t know what else to say. I’d spent months building a wall around the subject, between us, when it came to a part of his life that increasingly took up his attention. Now I couldn’t break the wall down. I didn’t know how to, and I didn’t want to if it meant acknowledging the thing that Wildflower Hill had become in my head.

I was probably as frustrated with myself as he was with me. I knew he was doing his best. Even with an active and conscientious emperor, some places really did just become human dumping grounds with problems no one could fix.

Even as Pete tried to address their concerns and deal with their, usually corrupt, merry-go-round of leaders, the situation had escalated from riots to assassinations of city officials. Now they’d taken imperial troops as hostages.

With a groan, he gave up on me and any further conversation, and turned to leave the room.

I said, “You can’t deal with it from here?”

He stopped. “No. Not with lives on the line like this. The time lag’s too long. I need to be on the planet, at least. I won’t go anywhere near the trouble zones. I’ll be fine.”

“Of course. I know.” I stood up, unable to sit still anymore.

He was biting his lip, looking down. He lifted his head. “Jake…”

I was such a muddle of guilt, anger, grief, and fear that my face must have been a picture. He stopped and sighed again. It was becoming a fixture in our conversations.

“I’m not going to dinner tonight,” he said. “Want to eat something in here with me?”

“Of course. I’ll go tell Jonathan.”

He nodded, gave me a tired smile, and went into the bedroom. I sank back into the chair and buried my face in my hands.

-

He left the next morning and I really did see him off without saying another word about where he was going or why. He was gone for three months.

I spent that time mostly hiding in either the lab or our rooms, but also trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Why I wouldn’t—why I couldn’t—talk to him about Wildflower Hill. Even thinking about it made my heart pound and my breaths come too fast.

I’d spent years trying to forget Abenez, and I’d done a good job of it, too. But the first time I’d seen pictures of Wildflower Hill, my palms started to sweat. It was as if I was back in the slums again. The fear and despair I felt may not have been an accurate reflection of how I’d felt as a child, but they were overwhelming.

And I knew, I knew that whatever the situation, those people were in the right. All the up-classes, all the authorities, were the cause of their problems and were the enemy. Even when I heard the reports coming in early on—when I would let Pete talk about it— even with contradictory evidence in front of me, of culpability on both sides, I couldn’t change the way I felt. When Pete talked about Wildflower Hill, I hated him and everything he represented. Even after the assassinations. Even with soldiers and negotiators taken hostage. No facts changed the way I felt.

So I had to do something about it.

In addition to the salary I still collected as the emperor’s appointee—and which I sent to Wildflower Hill—I had access to discretionary funds; I’d never been able to fathom what I might use them for.

But I knew now.

“Jonathan, I want to send more money to Wildflower Hill.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re already sending your entire salary.”

“Yes, I know, but there’s other money I can use. I want to send that too.”

He considered for a moment.

“That could be…problematic.”

“Why?”

“You must understand, that is the emperor’s money, not yours.”

“But I’m allowed to use some, right? So then it is mine.”

A smile flickered at his mouth.

“I understand it seems uncomplicated to you, but it won’t appear so to anyone on the outside. On the books this will appear as the emperor sending assistance personally to a people in rebellion. You can’t do it, sir.”

I frowned, frustrated.

“But I could give money to you, right?”

“Why would you?”

“As a gift. You’re such a great servant that I want to give you a gift on top of what Pete pays you. No one would freak out about that, would they?”

“No,” he said with exaggerated care.

“So I could give you money regularly and you could send it to the Wildflower Hill charities.”

Now he frowned, eyeing me from under knotted brows.

“I admire the sentiment, sir, but this sounds very foolish, and dangerous for you.”

“But you’ll do it?”

He sighed. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

-

When the soldiers were finally released, a few rebel ringleaders were executed, and additional field personnel were sent in to deal with the food and shelter issues underlying the whole situation, Pete returned to the palace. And still we didn’t talk about it. So I suppose the outcome was inevitable.

fg
25

It wasn’t Pete’s fault.

He knew that I tried to stay out of it, but, as close to the center of political power as I was, he didn’t think it was safe for me to stay completely ignorant. So about once a month, I would attend open council sessions.

I would go when something on the agenda piqued my interest. It was one day, when one of the scheduled issues pertained to education, that the news came in.

It was less than two weeks since Pete had returned from Wildflower Hill. The rebels had captured a company of soldiers again. And this time they didn’t bother holding prisoners.

Pete went pale. “How many dead?”

“Current estimates say fifty-four soldiers, Excellence.”

Pete nodded. “I want the families informed as quickly as possible. We’ll never beat the news to them, but I don’t want them sitting around wondering about their own any longer than necessary.”

General Poe, seated at the table with the other counselors, nodded to one of his men and the man left the room.

Blaine spoke up from across the table. I hadn’t noticed him there. I didn’t remember him being on Pete’s council at all. “Surely now, Excellence, it’s time to take more drastic measures.”

Pete put his head down and rubbed his forehead for a minute. “Yes, I know.” He was quiet only a moment before he lifted his head. “General Mondejar, start the evacuations. I want them out of there yesterday. Make sure everyone knows and has an opportunity to get out if they want to. We raze the sector in three days.”

I was the only one in the audience who gasped.

“A voluntary evacuation, Your Excellence?” General Mondejar asked, but he didn’t sound surprised; satisfied, more like.

Pete looked tired. “Yes. If anyone’s stupid enough to play chicken with us, then they were a problem we needed to deal with anyway. They can save us the effort. But I want everyone else out and sheltered before a single building falls. General Holmes, the plans are completed?”

“Yes, Excellence. We can bring down the sector with no damage to the surrounding areas.”

“Very well,” Pete said. “Get it done.”

“No!” I shot out of my chair. “You can’t do that!”

Every head turned in my direction. Pete met my eye, his expression weary but resolute. “Mr. Dawes, this is not the time or the place for a debate. Sit down or leave the room.”

I pushed past the people around me.