The Sowing (27 page)

“You knew all this?”

“What do you mean? Yeah, I knew all this. Soren told me some parts of the story, and some parts I looked into myself. “

“And you never told me? You never thought about it? Never thought that maybe there
was
foul play?”

“Oh, and you’re one to talk?” Jeremiah glares at me. “The older sister of the girl you were in love with was killed in an ‘Outsider attack’ and then her entire family disappeared, and you never thought to ask questions?”

“I did ask questions! I talked to my parents, I talked to my professors, I talked to Moriana, I...” There’s a pause.

“You didn’t ever do any actual
research
until tonight, though, did you?”

“Well, you did, and you didn’t do anything about it!” I say, too accusingly. I try to bite my anger back into my throat. “You actually had cause to suspect, and you just turned away?”

“What was I supposed to do? Go to the Watchmen? The OAC? My parents? With a couple of court transcripts and Soren’s word against the whole Sector?” He’s standing now, leaning across the table toward me. “You think it was any of my business, Vale? Hacking into my best friend’s parents’ mental health records and reading through old Corporate Assembly transcripts when I was fifteen?”

He’s shouting now, and I want to tell him to keep his voice down, but I can’t get the words in—

“I didn’t know what to think, so I kept quiet and kept my head down. And then Soren disappeared, and I had no idea where he went or how to find him or even if he was still alive. So tell me, Vale, what would you have done? Run to your parents?” he says disdainfully.

I freeze. Jeremiah, too, suddenly stops talking or moving, his mouth half open, his eyes narrowed accusingly at me. I can’t seem to think. My mind has gone blank. The contempt melts off Miah’s face as he realizes what he’s said, and he drops his eyes to the floor.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t—” but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

There’s a long silence as Jeremiah stares at his hands on the table, and I stare at him. The buoyancy that normally decorates his face is gone, and I get a glimpse of what he might look like in twenty, thirty years. My mind swirls as I watch him, immobile, both of us stuck for a moment in time that we want to erase, but cannot. Now, Jeremiah is replaced by images flashing before my eyes: photos of Tai in the autopsy room, her eyes as clear and glassy and dead as water stones; Remy’s amber-eyed stare, angry and questioning, as she turned away from me before slamming the door in my face; my mother sitting me down in our house, telling me in her gentle dulcet tones that the Alexander family had disappeared.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t—” Miah begins again, snapping me out of my memories.

“No, no, stop,” I say abruptly, cutting him off. “You’re right. I was just as blind, if not more, and I—” I stop. Demeter has a message for me from General Aulion. I hold up a finger to tell Jeremiah to wait, and I listen carefully as she relays the words in her calm, low voice, and I’m grateful she’s the messenger and not Aulion himself. She could have just played his recording, of course, but she knows I’d rather hear her voice than Aulion’s. Especially now.

“Valerian Augustus Orleán, the Resistance prisoners, Remy Alexander and Soren Skaarsgard, have escaped. Despite lockdown and emergency high-security measures, they have disappeared. You keyed out of Sector Headquarters at 0302 hours, just prior to a Code Red lockdown. Because of this you are being temporarily relieved of your duties as director of the Seed Bank Protection Project pending further investigation into your role in the prisoners’ disappearance. Report receipt of this message and your location immediately. If you do not report within five minutes, we will issue a warrant for your arrest as an accessory to the traitors’ escape.”

Well, that was fast.

I mutter to Jeremiah something about my boss wanting to talk to me, and I give Demeter the message to send back: “Valerian Orleán reporting from Jeremiah Sayyid’s flat, Unit 244, Building 25 in the Old Quarter. I had no role in the hostages’ escape.” Demeter sends the message off, and not ten seconds later she announces that Aulion would like to speak to me directly. I tell her to ignore the call. “I’ll call him in the morning. Repeat that I had no involvement in the hostages’ escape, and I am currently occupied with other urgent matters.” Demeter actually laughs at this.

“What could be so urgent that you would want to ignore General Aulion?” she asks and then sends off the message.

 “So, big news,” I say with a mirthless smile. “I’ve been demoted. ‘Relieved of my duties.’”

“Really?” He looks unsure of whether this is good or bad.

“‘Pending further investigation into my role in the escape.’” I frown. It’s okay, I tell myself. Better that I come under investigation than that Chan-Yu be thrust into the line of fire. “At least this way I’m not helping the Sector anymore. I don’t think I could in good conscience continue to do my job anyway.”

“Well, lucky you, then. A most opportune time to be fired.”

I nod.

“So, when are you going to talk to your parents?” I think about that, but I don’t have a good answer. I’ll have to work up the courage, and that might take a while. I might not even get the opportunity for several days, what with dealing with the fallout from Remy and Soren’s escape.

“I don’t know. But if you’re serious about leaving, I’ll come with you. I may not have a choice with Aulion on my tail. Just let me talk to my parents first.”

“And Vale—we can’t take Moriana,” Jeremiah blurts out. “We can’t tell her.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m not going to endanger her life like that. She’s got a good thing going here and she needs to make her own choices. Just like my dad told me. And if we tell her, we’ll be putting her in as much danger as you and I are now. It’s better if she doesn’t know.”

I frown, but I know he’s right.

“Okay,” he says, speaking more easily now, “if we’re really doing this, then we should be ready to leave at the drop of a hat. You have no idea how they’re going to react, how far they’ll go to hide the truth.”

“I don’t think they’ll hurt me.” Miah cocks an eyebrow at me, skeptical. “But you’re right. Let’s get our stuff together tomorrow so we can be ready to move whenever we need to.”

Jeremiah grabs his plasma and starts making a list. “Imagine we’re going camping,” he says. “My dad took me a few times when I was little. We’re going to need extra clothes, rain gear, good boots, something to hunt with in case we run out of food—oh, and a good supply of our Mealpaks—and probably a few weapons, too. I’ll count on you to commandeer those for us. It’s not like I’ve got a ready supply of Bolts hanging around.”

I have to resist the urge to laugh. Leave it to Jeremiah to create some comedy from this whole thing.

“And we’ll probably want to take your Sarus, if possible—it’s not bugged, is it?” I shake my head, hoping I’m right. “Great. So we’ll take the Sarus, and we’ll want some blankets and rope, and.…”

As Miah rattles on about the list, I sit back and think about what leaving really means—and the impending conversation I must have with my parents. I owe it to them, I know. But what will I learn? Is my mother really the cold-hearted killer I overheard two hours ago ordering the deaths of two Sector citizens? Or will she emerge from all this with her characteristic political silkiness, somehow justifying her actions? The very thought of confronting them, of judging them and demanding they account for themselves, brings a lump to my throat like I’ve swallowed an old chunk of coal. I blink back the tears and lean in. Like Miah said, it’s time to plan for what comes next.

21 - REMY

Fall 91, Sector Annum 105, 03h34
Gregorian Calendar: December 20

Across the POD, Soren and I stare at the man called Chan-Yu, thankful but uncertain of where we stand or who he really is. Soren and I both open our mouths to start peppering him with questions, but he holds his hand up to shush us, and we clamp them shut. I look around, fearing that someone has seen us, that someone is after us, but no one is there, and the streets of the capital are quiet and dark. It’s a little surreal, looking outside the window during the quiet night and watching the city I once called home slide by. It feels hostile and threatening, and I keep looking around for angry eyes to turn us into the Sector authorities.

The POD moves with smooth efficiency as Chan-Yu looks out the window, and I look at Chan-Yu. He has the kind of face you wouldn’t notice unless he called attention to himself. He has narrow eyes, a square jaw, and high cheeckbones, vaguely reminiscent of Asian heritage. He’s not attractive, but he’s not unattractive either, just sort of nondescript, the kind of man who could easily fade into a crowd without notice. I try to gauge his age and guess he must be about twenty-five or twenty-six. He’s compact, shorter than Soren, but he radiates quiet strength and confidence, like the unnerving calm before a summer storm. A million scenarios swirl in my head, and it’s all I can do to keep quiet. I glance over at Soren. His leg is vibrating up and down like it’s on a spring, and it’s clear he’s about to jump out of his skin if we doesn’t get answers soon.

Without warning, Chan-Yu reaches out and pushes the emergency STOP button, and Soren and I are thrown forward as the POD lurches to a halt. The door slides open silently and Chan-Yu stands up and shoulders his pack. We do the same and follow him as he jumps down onto the rail path. I wince as my leg wobbles when I hit the ground. He punches in a code, and we watch as the POD starts moving again, continuing its way down the line.

“That was just a way to get us out of the headquarters quadrant fast. Sector drones and soldiers will be searching the PODS line, so we have to move. I know you’re tired, but I hope you have enough in you for a short run.” Soren and I nod brusquely—what choice do we have? I grit my teeth against the ache in my leg and follow our rescuer as he takes off at a lope toward a darkened side street.

We’re outside the city center and running through neighborhoods full of apartments, shops, and restaurants. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the city that everything strikes me as opulent. Soren and I are haggard, exhausted from trying to keep up with Chan-Yu’s relentless pace. Just when I think I can’t keep up this pace, after at least twenty minutes of jogging punctuated with an occasional sprint between open spaces, Chan-Yu comes to an abrupt stop under a storefront awning.

“Wait here.” He rounds a corner and disappears.

“Fuck,” Soren swears, bending over with his hands on his knees. “I’m beat.” I nod my silent agreement—I don’t have enough wind left in me to actually speak—and hope the running is over.

We stand in the shadows of the enormous apartment building, gripping our packs and looking around nervously, catching our breath as we wait for Chan-Yu to return. My heart is beating so loudly I’m surprised Soren can’t hear it, and I try to calm myself, to tell myself that Chan-Yu is in control of the situation. But I’ve never liked putting my fate in anyone else’s hands, much less a stranger’s.

After a few minutes, I hear the telltale low hum of a hovercar, and I grab Soren and we duck into the shadows as a supply truck with Chan-Yu riding shotgun rounds the corner. The official Sector sunflower emblem is painted on the side, and beneath it reads: OKARIAN SECTOR FARM SUPPLY DETAIL. The driver is a mousy woman with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She doesn’t look at us but instead seems to be peering into the rearview mirror as if she has something in her eye. Chan-Yu pushes a button on the dash and then hops out as the back door rolls open. He motions us in, and we climb up and find seats on a pile of boxes. Before Chan-Yu joins us, he looks up into the sky and a look of alarm crosses his face. My heart stops. He quickly hops in with us and slams the door down.

“We’re being tracked,” he says. “Drones.”

“Do they know we’re in the truck?” I demand.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Chan-Yu responds. I contemplate this grisly possibility and wonder how short-lived our escape will be. A wave of molten fear courses through me at the thought of facing Philip and Aulion again. A light comes on above us, and Chan-Yu smiles.

“Sela is very thoughtful,” he says, presumably referring to the driver.

“Who is she?” Soren asks.

“A friend,” he responds. “I hope we’ll have a few minutes of quiet now, so you should rest,” he says casually, as though we were out for a pleasant afternoon jaunt.

“Where are we going?” Soren asks.   

“I recognize you from when Vale interrogated us,” I say.

“If you’re Sector military, why are you helping us?” Soren adds, gesturing at Chan-Yu’s uniform.

“I have my reasons.”

“We deserve to know what’s going on, where you’re taking us, and why,” Soren says.

“Is that so?” Chan-Yu turns his narrow, unsmiling eyes onto Soren. “You
deserve
to know? And what have you done, Soren Skaarsgard, to earn the right to know everything that goes on around you? What gives you the right to know the thoughts and decisions of others?” He shakes his head at Soren, who looks subdued, though unrepentant. “Not everything is within your control, and there is nothing in this world that gives you the
right
to know how all things have come to be.”

Soren opens his mouth like he’s about to spit out a response, but he stops halfway through and thinks better of it.

“What is important is that your lives are in danger. You have something very valuable, and Corine Orleán knows you have it,” he says, shifting his gaze from Soren to me.
Does he know about the DNA?
“Make no mistake, she wants you dead. She believes fervently that if you should return to the Resistance and give them what knowledge you have, the control she has worked for years to obtain will be nothing. The OAC’s power will be diminished—
her
power will be diminished.”

My mind is racing. Corine must have seen me on camera, just as Soren feared. She can’t risk anyone else learning about the key, so she ordered us killed, and somehow Chan-Yu found out. But he was with Vale during the interrogation.
Does that mean Vale knows?