The Pearl Wars (4 page)

Cassius chuckled nervously. Despite growing up with her, he still found himself tongue-tied around Madame. Mostly he just let her do the talking.

“I’ll have someone put it into stasis right away,” she continued. “I look forward to our trip up to Atlas. It’ll give us some time to catch up. It feels like I’ve hardly seen you these p
ast few weeks.”

“You’ve been busy.”

She nodded. “True, but that’s a lazy excuse, isn’t it? This is an important time in your life. I’d regret missing too much of it.”

Cassius was about to respond when a powerful wave of heat rushed throug
h his chest, like someone had lit a fuse and buried it deep inside his body. The room fractured and spun, a kaleidoscope of car
pet patterns, bookshelves, and Pearl energy. He staggered sideways, nearly toppling over onto the floor before catching himself and straightening his posture.

Madame stood immediately, revealing a slim figure covered with a fitted blouse tucked into dark trousers. “Cassius, are you all right?”

He rubbed his head. “Yeah, I just got a little dizzy there for a second.”

“You’ve been outside the Net for too long,” she spoke with a tremor of concern. “You should go lie down.”

“Maybe.” His heart pounded at double time as his chest co
ntinued to burn. He cleared his throat, making sure to conceal his discomfort in front of Madame.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure nothing happened to you back in Syracuse?”

His mind raced back to the rooftop—separating from the Skyship boy, thrown across the ground. “Yeah,” he lied, careful not to stumble on his words. “I’m fine.”

She frowned, unconvinced. “All right. We’ll talk tomorrow. Get some rest and a glass of water. And please call the infirmary if you feel ill.”

He nodded and turned to leave the room, desperate to get out before he did something stupid and embarrassed himself in front of her.

“And Cassius?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I’m very proud of you.”

Her words comforted him as he staggered out the door, gripping his burning chest. He continued down the hallway, each step echoed by a thudding pain inside of him. Heat. Everywhere. So hot.

The hallway weaved into diagonals. He stumbled into the wall twice before making it to the dormitories. Panic consumed his thoughts. Cassius wasn’t use to panic, and that was the worst of all. Something was wrong inside of him. He knew it immediately, at a gut level. This wasn’t a simple stomach pain. It wasn’t the Fringe heat, or the chemicals.

He yanked open the door to his room, slamming it behind him and slumping face down on his perfectly made bed. He’d always been healthy. Rarely sick, he healed from injuries faster than most of his peers. But he hadn’t even been injured. Scuffed up a little maybe in Syracuse, but nothing serious.

A sharp pain stabbed below his heart and prickled to his feet. Each moment that followed was an exclamation point on an already panicked state of shock. He’d heard of people having heart attacks, dropping dead minutes after they felt pain, but a fifteen-year-old? There’s no way.

Desperate for water, he carefully lifted himself off the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom.

A jolt up his spine stopped him in his tracks, sending him crashing to his knees. His organs sizzled, as if his insides had started leaking poisonous acid into his body. He bit his lip to keep the scream stuck inside.

Then, just as unexpectedly as it had arrived, the pain disappeared.

Cassius ran his hand over his forehead, breathing hard. Sweat dripped from his chin to the floor. He tore off his jacket and threw it toward the bed, untucking his shirt and
loosening the top buttons.

Pulling himself off the ground, he struggled to a standing position and sat on the edge of his bed. His legs wobbled. He’d just been through war.

But it wasn’t over yet.

The pain returned, nearly knocking him from the bed. This time he felt fire—flames consuming him from inside out.

This time, he screamed.

The fire burst through his skin. Like a human bomb, he exploded. Torrents of flame shot around the bedroom, engulfing every corner. His clothing seared into ashes and fluttered from his body.

It took seconds.

Seconds, and the once spotless room was a charred shell. The flames began to eat through the walls, threatening neighboring quarters. His skin remained pale, his body intact. The fire spread. The warmth inside him diluted. The pain disappeared.

Cassius slumped off the edge of the skeletal bed frame and onto the floor. Face down. Unconscious. Flames danced all aroun
d him.

4

As our shuttle bursts into Earth’s stratosphere, I dream about Pearls. I dream there’s this giant robed guy lounging around on an asteroid somewhere chucking them down at me, one after another. I stand on the Surface, watching them burn through my body as they hit, leaving swiss-cheese holes until I’m hung together by nothing more than gooey threads.

“We’ve hit 30,000 feet.” Eva’s call knocks me out of my frustratingly short nap. I pry my eyes open and look out the side window. The vast outline of Skyship Polaris blots out most of the evening sky, just out of reach—a floating, metallic castle. A string of drool hangs from the side of my mouth. Charming.

We passed the Skyline hours ago, back on the East Coast. Ever since then I’ve been able to relax a little and get some shuteye. I’ve heard stories about Shippers getting shot for landing on the Surface without credentials. We were lucky not to run into border patrol, though I guess it’s kind of hard to police every square inch of the Skyline.

Skyship Academy, a dinky, self-contained ship compared to some of the bigger models, hovers above the California-Oregon border, give or take a few miles. Puttering back all the way from New York, we’ve been cooped up in this shuttle for going on two hours. Stir crazy. I told Mr. Wilson that it was a mass stupid idea sending us all the way out to the East Coast, but he kept saying that the “opportunity was too good to pass up” (a.k.a., “we’re gonna give you losers the safest possible city with the safest possible Pearl Traders so you don’t get yourselves killed”).

Yeah. That went well.

Eva flips a switch on the ceiling. “I’m stabilizing and setting the auto-pilot.”

“Go for it,” Skandar answers half-heartedly. Eva’s always been one for protocol, though she knows she doesn’t need our advice. She’s the best pilot in Year Nine. I don’t e
ven have my learner wings yet.

Skandar unfastens his belt and moves across the shuttle, sitting backward on the seat nearest to me, face pressed against the window. “Polaris.” He grins. “I heard they’ve got this hotel … and there are these women, right? You walk in and they’ll do—”

“Please.” Eva groans. “Please stop.”

He makes a face out the window, though it’s meant for her.

My e
yes follow the enormous ship as we pass by. The neon towers stretching up from the top level create an unnatural glow in the atmosphere. The hull is dar
k and wide—wedge-shaped, with space for thousands of tiny little rooms and corridors. The more money you’ve got, the higher you get to live. Nobody wants to try and sleep next to the thrusters on the bottom level. That’s why it’s reserved for docking bays. But Polaris isn’t much of a “settling down” ship, anyway. Not if you want peace and quiet. “We flew over there a couple years ago, right? For the opera?”

Skandar rolls his eyes. “Ugh. The most boring night of my life. I’m telling you, mate. Someday we need to highjack a shuttle and sneak onto Polaris. Head up to the casinos. That’s where the real action is.”

Somehow I can’t imagine that happening. After today’s little adventure, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Wilson kept us locked up in the Academy until we all turned eighteen.

Skandar’s com-pad flashes at his side. He detaches it from his belt, reading the line of text on the shiny black surface. Rolling his eyes, he tosses it to me. “Romeo’s been buzzed.”

I fumble with the device, glancing down at the words on the screen.

Jesse, why are you ignoring me? Are you all right? - Avery

Eva shifts in her seat, peering at the rearview mirror. “Is it Avery again?”

Skandar nods. “You mean Fisher’s girlfriend?”

I flip down the keypad, typing. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Not if you keep denying it,” Skandar replies.

“I don’t care who she is,” Eva huffs. “Academy CPs are not meant for socializing. How she’s managed to hack her way into our channel I’ll never know.”

“She’s good at that kind of stuff,” I mutter, pressing the send button.

Not ignoring you. Lost my CP, but I’m ok. - Jesse

Seconds later, another message appears on the screen.

Just wanted to congratulate you on your first mission. Dinner tonight? - Avery

My heart swells as I reread the words. With all the negativity floating around this afternoon, the prospect of dinner with Avery Wicksen is more than enough reward for me. Ever since she was transferred from the Academy on Skyship Mira three years ago, she’s been the calm oasis after increasingly embarrassing mishaps—the only one I can really talk to. I quickly type a nonchalant “yeah” into the com-pad and send it.

Eva frowns. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t tell Mr. Wilson about you two abusing the CPs.”

I toss it back to Skandar. “Um … your kind and generous nature?”

She snorts with laughter.

“Co
me on, Eva.” Skandar attaches the com-pad to his belt. “Have a heart. Fisher’s gotta work on his game.” He slaps my shoulder. “So what’d you tell he
r?” He purses his lips, adopting a ridiculous deep voice. “
Hey, baby, come to my room so we can get it on
.”

Eva rolls her eyes. “Real subtle, Harris.”

I shrug. “I pretty much just said ‘yeah.’”

He rolls his eyes, leaning back. “Well, that’s lame.”

Our shuttle continues to zip along the thin layer of cir
rus clouds beneath us. Soon Polaris is nothing more than a dot in the distance. Creeping up next on the radar is the Horizon College of Liberal Arts. We call it Skyship
Academy.

And we don’t study liberal arts. The school’s a front to keep the Unified Party off our backs. Under the Hernandez Treaty, Surface representatives can inspect any part of the Skyship Community with a warrant and “documented suspicion of duplicitous activity,” which can basically be turned around to mean just about anything. Places like hospitals, churches, and schools are exempt. Safe havens. So in all its infinite wisdom, the Tribunal runs all its secret Pearl-snatching operations through a handful of “schools.” Lucky us.

We file activity reports, but nobody in the Skyship Community knows what we’re really getting up to: secret reconnaissance missions, Fringe-trading, anything that helps us grab Pe
arls before the Unified Party finds them. Read the e-feed and you’d think the Skyships are stable, with enough Pearl Power to last as long as we need. The truth is, we’re one dry year away from having to sacrifice a good chunk of our ships
. But the Tribunal would never admit it to the community.

Eva unfastens her belt and joins us in the passenger cabin. “Visitation Day on Friday.”

Skandar drags his hand across his face. “I hate wearing suits.”

“It’s only for a few hours. We have to look like any other school and that incl
udes giving tours. Right, Jesse?”

“I’m with Skandar on this one.”

Every semester on Visitation Day, hopeful students follow our teachers around all wide-eyed and grinning, mass eager to learn about philosophy and literature and heaps of other stuff that we don’t actually teach. None of them ever make it through our “selective” admissions department. Skyship Academy’s only new recruits are agents’ kids or transfers from other training facilities. Count me among the former, though I can’t really remember my parents. They died when I was two, part of a government sting operation. In other words, they died heroes. Kinda sets expectations for their only kid.

“Well,” Eva continues, “I don’t think it hurts for us to remind ourselves that we’re going to be agents soon. It’s not bad to look professional every once in a while.”

Skandar grimaces. “What, are you like forty years old?”

“I’m just saying … a little bit of maturity goes a long way.”

I frown. “Tell that to Mr. Wilson when he flunks me out of the
program.”

She leans forward and lays her hand on my knee. It’s mildly creepy. “That’s not going to happen, Jesse. You’ve got three and a half more years. The only way to go is up.”

Skandar chuckles. Eva shoots him a look that silences him instantly. “
You
on the other hand … everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it?”

He shrugs. Eva’s face bristles. I can tell she’s about to slap him so I half-heartedly point out the window. “Looks like we’re home.”

After one last glare in Skandar’s direction, she stomps back to the cockpit and flips off the autopilot.

The Academy hangs in the sky before us, a dark gray ornament against a backdrop of fuchsia sunset. It’s shaped like the world’s biggest spinning top, widest at its peak and curving down all the way to the jagged spire at the bottom that sweeps through the wispy clouds below like a needle through dry ice. Unlike a top, we don’t spin. Skyships rarely change
coordinates at all, unless there’s a security breach.

We live on one of the smaller models, less an airborne city than a massive, flying house. Extending from the top center is the central tower. Inside, Captain Alkine—our number-one-cross-him-you-die commander—makes all the important calls. A transparent fiberglass dome cuts through the tower halfway, arching down to surround Lookout Park, a green oasis in the middle of the sky. Not only does it grow most of our food, but it’s the place to be after lessons. There’s no such thing as a cloudy day at Lookout. They’re all rushing by below our feet.

Six levels of living quarters, training classrooms, and research labs fill the rest of the ship, narrowing as they near the bottom where the docking bays lie open in anticipation of our shuttle.

We pull closer to the Academy. Dark, weathered siding fills the air outside my window. A pink sunset streams in behind us, hitting Eva right in the face. In an hour it’ll be completely dark. The canteen’s probably closed except for a few leftovers. There goes dinner.

I run my fingers through my dusty hair, sitting up and stretching as the shuttle veers into docking bay number three. The floor vibrates as the landing gear retracts. The cabin lights flicker off, replaced by the soft glow from inside the bay.

Eva shuts off the power as soon as we touch down. With a quick hiss of air, the door rises open and the steps collapse. Skandar and Eva head out first. I stand up. My head spin
s.

I grab the back of my seat to avoid falling over, but the dizziness gets mass worse. My pulse quickens until each thump feels like it’s gonna send my heart flying out of my chest. I let go of the chair and stretch my arms, closing my eyes and breathing deep. I just need a drink of water, that’s all. I mean, after what happened today, it’s a wonder I’m still alive.

Carefully, I step out onto the metallic floor panels of the docking bay. Aside from a couple of mechanics working on a decommissioned shuttle in the far corner, the place is deserted. The last sun rays, now a vivid orange, flow up into the mouth of the bay behind us and cast our shadows on the far wall. We look huge in shadow form. In reality I don’t think we’re so impressive.

I take a deep breath and follow my teammates past the chemical scanners to the ground level of the Academy. The wide windows of the circular hallway heat the incoming sun until it feels like we’re back on the Surface. We intersect the corridor and head for the central elevator shaft—the Academy’s spinal cord.

Skandar thumps his fist against the white walls as we march down an unremarkable hallway. With nearly a thousand of us onboard, the upper levels are packed this time of night. It’s dead silent down here.

My heart beats twice for every step. I stop and close my eyes, hoping that when I open them the hallway will stop spinning. It doesn’t.

We turn the corner into a second corridor. My strides shorten, feet dragging.

Skandar pauses and leans against the wall. “You okay, mate?”

I hold up a hand. The other one’s clutching my chest, trying to get my heart to slow down. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”

Eva turns, hands on hips. “Probably the heat. You rehydrated on the shuttle ride, didn’t you?”

I nod, taking a deep breath and straightening my back. “I’ll be okay.”

She sighs, but doesn’t press the issue.

A few more moments and we’re at the elevators. Skandar presses the button and stares at me while we wait for the doors to open. I don’t look back at him. By the time we’re crammed inside, my heart slows to a normal pace again.

I watch the screen beside the doors as we ascend to Level Five.

Meeting rooms. Mr. Wilson.

As head teacher of Year Nine, it’s Wilson’s responsibility to put us on track for graduation and to train us in the grand arts of Surface survival and Pearl Retrieval. He doesn’t like me. He’s never liked me. Any crumb of affection left between us oughta be wiped out tonight.

The elevator doors spread open. My back-to-normal heart lumps in my throat. We slump toward the meeting room with all the excitement of a funeral procession. When we finally take our seats at the crescent-shaped table inside, I’m about to pass out from all the stress. An old wooden desk in front lies empty for now, waiting for Mr. Wilson.

There’s no decoration, no windows, nothing but a ripped projector screen hanging from the ceiling and a barren table pushed into the corner. A weeping plant clings to life ag
ainst the opposite wall. It probably hasn’t been watered in weeks. Fluorescent light blares down from a tube directly above us. Hell’s waiting room.

I take a sip of water from a glass in front of me. We sit in silence. Bad kids in detention. Nobody knows what to expect. Mr. Wilson’s not a yeller, but there’s a first time for everything.

The door knob twists and Mr. Wilson strolls in, wea
ring a drab, unbuttoned sport coat and jeans. Focus real hard and the hint of a bald spot creeps up from under his combed-over hair. I like to see how fast I can find it. Today it takes me longer than usual. Go Mr. Wilson.

He’s got a bundle of books tucked under his arm that he sets on the desk before treating us to a mass dorky, come-on-impress-me smile.

“Well,” he begins. “It’s reassuring to see you all back unscathed. I hope your shuttle trip was comfortable. There’s supposed to be a storm passing through below us tonight.”