The Sowing (40 page)

“What are you—” The metal of the Bolt is pushed harder against my head and I stop talking.

“Keep your mouth shut, pretty boy,” Eli interrupts me.

I’m hoping Eli doesn’t have the authority to kill me, but I’m not going to test his limits. Jahnu sits me down on a log and Eli does the same for Jeremiah. Miah gives me the once-over, presumably making sure I’m okay. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth set in a tense line. 

“Okay,” Eli begins. “First things first. Where are Remy and Soren?”

“I don’t know,” I respond honestly.

“See, here’s the thing. That doesn’t make me happy,” Eli says casually, easily, staring out into the sky as though talking to the moon. “Because the last time I saw you, you were carting them off in your airship. And I assumed, naturally, since you are a man of great integrity, that you would be taking personal responsibility for their welfare. So, if it turns out I was wrong and you have somehow allowed them to be injured—or worse—then I will have no qualms about shooting you.” He muses on this for a second. “They might not be too happy back at base, but frankly, I don’t give a damn what they think.”

Okay. Eli’s a loose cannon, and I’m directly in his line of fire. Great. I need to diffuse this situation.

“Look,” I respond, keeping my voice quiet and steady, though Jahnu’s Bolt pointing at my head makes rational thought a little difficult. “Remy and Soren escaped from the capital almost three full days ago. A soldier under my command helped them, and they’ve been fugitives since.” For some reason, I don’t want them to know Chan-Yu is an Outsider. I’m not sure whether it will lend credibility to my story or if it will sound even more farfetched. I’m not sure what sort of relationship the Resistance has, if any, with the Outsiders. “Jeremiah and I voluntarily left the Sector yesterday, and we abandoned our airship because we were being tracked. I have no idea whether Remy and Soren have been recaptured, but I’m willing to bet my parents are a lot more worried about finding me than they are about Remy and Soren.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so.”

“Tell me, Valerian, why would they be worried about finding you?” Eli asks. “Have you gone missing?” 

“Something like that,” Jeremiah mutters, and I see him wince as Kenzie raises her Bolt. Eli turns and considers him.

“Something like that, huh?” Eli says. “And what are you doing out in the woods with an Orleán, Sayyid?”

“He doesn’t have anything to do with Remy and Soren,” I interject. The last thing I want is for Eli to take out his anger on Miah.

“If he doesn’t have anything to do with Remy and Soren, why is he out here tramping through the woods with you?”

“Listen, we’re not here on the Sector’s authority. We fled. Just like you did three years ago.”

I notice Kenzi’s eyes flick over toward Jahnu’s, but Eli’s never leave my own.

“That’s funny,” he says, “because just last night I was watching a Sector broadcast about everyone’s favorite celebrity. Valerian Orleán. The handsome son of the chancellor was bragging about his wonderful job and his new love affair with Linnea Heilmann.  And now here you are! Out in the Wilds with nary a security detail in sight.” He peers up through the trees as if Sector troops are going to start dropping through the branches at any moment. “So, you say you left just like I did three years ago.”

“Yes, we left last night after the—”

“And did you leave the girl you loved laying in a pool of blood? Or your mentor crumpled in a headless heap, his brain sprayed against the back wall? Or a whole team of former colleagues testifying that you’d gone crazy? Or maybe you left because suddenly your parents disappeared off the face of the earth—poof, gone, just like that. Is that how you left just like I did?”

I don’t know how to respond to that. Fortunately, Eli spares me the trouble. “Let’s try this again. Where are Remy and Soren?”

“I told you,” I say. “They escaped with the help of a soldier under my command and—”

In about a half second Eli’s got a knife at my throat and I can already feel the tiny droplets of blood being pulled from my skin. “You expect us to believe that? That you helped them escape?” He spits the word derisively.

“Yes,” I choke out, trying not to move. “I told him to get Remy and Soren the hell out of there. Otherwise, my mother would have had them killed. It was the only way to keep them alive.”

Eli continues to stare at me for another few seconds while I hold my breath and hope that this time I’ve said the right thing. Finally, he lets me go.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, exactly. She was afraid they had some really important information. Information that my mother—Corine—couldn’t risk getting back to you guys, to the Resistance.” At this, Eli’s eyes flick to Kenzie’s and Jahnu’s.
Do they know what my mother was after? 

“Tell me everything you know about Remy and Soren’s whereabouts,” Eli says calmly, again staring out at the darkening sky.            

“I already have. Their lives were in danger, so I asked one of the men in my command, a man I had just learned was ready to disappear as well, to help them escape.”

“And how did you know this man was ‘ready to disappear’?”

“Look, their lives were in immediate danger. I believed this man could help them. And I know he got them out of the building. That much I’m sure of.”

For several seconds Eli is silent. Then: “So you said you abandoned your airship because you were being tracked. Where did you leave it?”

“We landed close to the river, by that old power plant. We’ve been walking ever since. We thought we’d figured out how to disable any tracking capabilities, but someone in the Sector took control of the airship and started flying us home.” I glance at Jeremiah. “It wasn’t pretty.”

“Yeah. We watched you lose your cloaking and almost run in to a cliff.”

“You saw that?”

“That was when we started tracking you.”

“But we were able to reengage the cloaking.”

“Sure, you were. There’s this little thing called echolocation; you know, acoustic locators, sonar? Once we knew your general vicinity, we were able to follow you pretty easily.”

“So you saw what we were up against. You saw us trying to get control of the airship.”

“Or maybe you’re both just really shitty pilots,” the man with black curls pipes up.

“We’re telling the truth, Eli,” I insist. “Remy and Soren escaped with one of my men. And then we left. Now, we have no idea where they are. All I know is that they’re probably not in the Sector.”

“‘Probably’?”

“Probably. If they’ve been recaptured in the last eighteen hours, they could be back in Okaria. But I doubt that’s happened. I’ve trained with this soldier for the last two years, and I have no doubt he can take care of himself—and Remy and Soren, too. Besides, as much as the Sector will want to find the escaped prisoners, I’m willing to bet my parents are more focused on finding me.” But is that really true? If my mother was willing to kill Remy and Soren because of the information they had, I doubt she’s stopped looking for them just because I’ve disappeared.

Eli’s immobile for a few more minutes. Everyone is looking to him for some sort of decision—everyone, that is, except the man with the mop of black hair, who seems way more preoccupied with Jeremiah. He’s staring at him intently, scrutinizing him, as though trying to place him. Finally he speaks up.

“You related to Zeke Sayyid?” All eyes spin to the black-haired man, and then back to Jeremiah.

“I’m his son.”

“Who’s that?” Jahnu demands.

“He’s with us,” the dark-haired man responds. “Works at Waterloo. We’re from the same factory town. You’re Jeremiah, right?” Jeremiah nods. “You were a TREE scholar?”  Miah nods again. I always forget that Jeremiah’s not from the capital—he took to the high-flying city life so easily you’d never know he was originally from a small town. “What’re you tagging along with an Orleán for?”

“He’s my best friend,” Miah says simply, and for some reason that admission makes me so happy I could float into the air on the bubble swelling in my chest. “We left together after we figured out what was going on.”

The black-haired man watches the two of us for a few seconds, and then addresses Jeremiah again:

“You tryin’ to find your dad?”

“I’d like to see him again, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Well, he’s nary at our base, but we can take you to him,” the man says, and I wonder how Jeremiah managed to lose his country accent so thoroughly. 

“We’re not doing anything of the sort until we find Remy and Soren,” Eli snaps at him. The black-haired man shrugs.

“Elijah, if you don’t report to the Director immediately that we’ve found Valerian Orleán running around in the woods, she’s gonna throw your ass in the lake.”

Jeremiah and I keep our mouths shut. I don’t know which option sounds less appealing—being stuck with Eli while he’s on the warpath, or facing down the Resistance's infamous Director in a few hours.

Eli swears and tells Kenzie to go radio in that they’ve taken me hostage. Kenzie runs off into the woods somewhere, and I wonder if they’ve got an airship in the vicinity.
What a surprising turn of events.
Despite my best efforts to stay away from the Resistance, Jeremiah was right. Sooner or later, they’d find me. It just turned out to be a lot sooner than I expected.

After a few tense moments, Kenzie comes running back with instructions to return with the hostages immediately. Eli spits and swears at the black-haired man, who looks perfectly unperturbed. He and Eli grab our heavy packs and head through the woods. Jeremiah and I are instructed to follow them, and though I can no longer feel the cold gunmetal pressed against my head, Jahnu and Kenzie are right on our heels. They don’t trust us. I don’t blame them. 

Half an hour later, we’re in their airship, a fat, clunky old thing that, from the smell of it, seems to run off of fossil fuel.
It still has propellers!
Jeremiah mouthed at me as it came into view. But once inside, I realize the ship is powered entirely by a micro fusion generator and that the control panel is almost as sophisticated as the Sarus’s. The propellers must just be for backup—like my dad’s archaic control system.

The black-haired man sits down opposite us. He throws his arm up over the back of the seat and leans back, obviously not nearly as threatened by us as everyone else seems to be.

“What’s your name?” Jeremiah asks.

“Firestone.”

“You worked in Ellas with my father?”

“True enough,” he says simply.

“Did you leave first, or did he?”

“I did. Tried to convince him to come with me, but he wasn’t for it at the time. He was one of the ones who thought about stuff, more than just the average person. I think something finally tipped him over the edge, but he never did tell me what. Just showed up at the Thermopylae base about six months ago.”

“What’s he do for the Resistance?” Jeremiah asks eagerly.

“Firestone,” Eli calls from the front, warningly. “Get up here and fly the damn ship.” Firestone winks at us.

“Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

Their ship isn’t nearly as smooth as the Sarus—maybe because of the drag from the old propellers— but we’re in the air without a hitch after a few minutes. They ignore us for the most part, though Jahnu steps into the holding area for a moment to ask me about his cousin.

“How’s Moriana?” He sits across from us.

“She’s …” I look at Jeremiah. “Well, she’s great. She’s working for Corine. With the OAC.” I know Jahnu won’t be proud of this. True to form, he sighs and looks up at the ceiling.

“We watched the graduation. I heard her placement announcement.” He looks at Jeremiah. “Have I been reading the broadcasts right? Were you going out with her?” Jeremiah looks flustered, which is unlike him. His cheeks are going red, and he’s determinedly ignoring Jahnu’s eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Is she … is she okay? Happy?”

“Yeah, she’s happy. She loves her research.” Jeremiah is now staring intently at a spot on the floor. I know how guilty he feels about leaving her without an explanation.

“Did she know you were leaving?” There’s a long pause before Miah responds.

“We didn’t tell her.” Jahnu nods, and there is a long, awkward silence before he stands to head up to the cockpit where his team members are sitting. Before he rejoins them, though, he turns back to us.

“Comfortable? Hungry? Thirsty?”

“You’re really concerned?” I ask.

“We’re not going to starve you,” he responds, and a pang of guilt throbs through me.

“I could eat.” Jeremiah perks up. “We’ve got Mealpaks in our bags.”

“Really?” A suspicious frown crosses Jahnu’s face, and I remember Soren’s sneering comments about my ignorance of the Dieticians’ manipulations.

“Yeah, we took as much as we could carry,” Jeremiah responds nonchalantly, though suddenly everyone in the airship is looking at us. “Why? What’s so weird about that?”

But Kenzie and Jahnu have started opening our bags and going through them, pulling out our Mealpaks, opening them and dumping the contents into a compost hatch.

“What are you doing?!” Jeremiah shouts. “We need that!” I should have known they would do this. Soren’s anger should have clued me in to the fact that the Resistance wouldn’t let Sector food anywhere near them. At my side, Jeremiah is panic-stricken, but all I can think is,
maybe it’s for the best.

“No, you don’t.” Eli’s voice is cold. “So long as you’re with us you won’t eat anything from the Sector.” He turns to us, unsmiling. “You might even get to find out who you really are after a few days.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeremiahs demand. Eli ignores him. 

“They’ve been manipulating you,” Jahnu explains patiently. “Everything the Dieticians put into the food is designed to control you, to shape your brain and your body into whoever or whatever they want you to be.”

“Sounds pretty damn good to me,” Jeremiah interrupts. “I
like
that they feed me stuff that makes me better able to do my job. You don’t?”

“Maybe you’re just not naturally as intelligent as I am,” Jahnu responds with a smile, which shuts Jeremiah up for a while.