The Sun Dwellers (35 page)

“Yes,” I say. “But there will be time for mourning him later. We have urgent matters to attend to. The war.”

“Of course. You’d like an update?” another general says, pushing his blue-plated glasses higher on his nose.

“Make it quick,” I say.

“In short—we’re killing them,” the man says, pride lighting up his face.

“Well, stop,” I say.

The man raises his eyebrows. “Stop, sir?”

“Yes. Stop. A simple word, meaning to discontinue, end, or otherwise cease one’s current behavior. Stop the war. Stop the killing. Call a temporary truce until I can meet with the moon and star dweller leaders.”

“Meet with them, sir?” I swear my father’s generals are as dumb as rocks. Stop, meet: these are not hard words to understand.

I sigh. “I want to meet with them, discuss how to end the war peacefully.”

“But we’re winning, sir.”

“I don’t care if we’re winning!” I scream, letting all the emotion of the last few hours come out through my mouth. “Give the order to stop. Now!” I hand him the comm set in the center of the table. “Start the process. And if I hear about anyone killing any moon or star dwellers after the order is given, they’ll be put to death. Is that clear enough for you, general?”

The general, white-eyed and paler than usual, takes the comm set and presses a button.

Adele

I
t will take more than one dead president and a ceasefire to make things better for everyone. Surely Tristan’s claim to the presidency will be challenged once they realize that it was no accident that killed the President. A full investigation is already underway.

I sit in a chair with my arm in a sling, Tristan beside me reading his mom’s book. Tawni sits abreast of Roc, who continues to lie sleeping in the white hospital bed, his stomach heavily bandaged. The doctor said the procedure went well, that he checked all his vital organs and that “Quite frankly, he got lucky. Everything appears to be okay in there.” So he sewed him up, pumped him full of painkillers, and told us Roc will wake up when his body is good and ready.

Tawni hasn’t left his side since the doctor gave her the okay to move in beside him. For two days she’s sat by him, sleeping with her head next to his. She’s holding his hand, rubbing his thumb gently with hers. She’s singing something so softly that I can’t make out the words or the tune.

Yesterday we cremated Trevor. I was trying to be strong for him, like he was till the very end, but when Tristan spoke some of the finest words I’d ever heard about someone, I broke down, my face turning from stolid to a wet mess in a heartbeat. I thought about all he had been through in his life, how happenstance and my mother’s kind heart had brought him into my life, how he had saved me from the barrel of Brody’s gun, how he had saved Tristan. Even after the tears on my face had long dried up, my heart has continued to weep every second. I’ll truly miss him.

Although Tristan and I, like Tawni, wanted to stay by Roc’s side, we had other matters to attend to. Tristan checked in on the status of the ceasefire every fifteen minutes, ensuring it was being carried out with precision and without fail. He also identified a few of the servants that he knew were loyal to Roc and who would most likely be able to keep a secret. Together we worked with them to dispose of the guards’ bodies, dumping them in a giant furnace where no investigation would ever uncover the truth of how they met their sudden and untimely demise. We scrubbed the blood clean from the floors of the throne and council rooms. When we finished it was as if nothing had happened in either place, which was a strange thing to behold. I feel like half my life has been spent in those two rooms. If you base it off the intensity of emotions, I
have
spent half my life in the Sun Realm.

We left Tristan’s father’s body for last, because we couldn’t burn it. The generals and advisors will want to see a body, will want to hold a ceremony, so we asked a few of the servants to clean him up, dress him in fresh clothes. It sickens me to think he gets special treatment even in death, but it’s an evil required to maintain the ruse that his death was no more than an unfortunate accident.

As I continue to watch Roc’s steady and beautiful breathing, I begin playing with an idea in my head for a few minutes, considering how best to ask Tristan. Perhaps I should just tell him what I want, rather than asking permission. He may be the President now, but I’ve always had a problem with authority.

Tristan

I’m fascinated by the book my father gave me—my mom’s book. It’s like she’s still alive in the pages, in the words, because they’re all new to me. I’m vaguely aware of Adele, Tawni, and Roc as I read each page twice, sometimes pausing to read a single sentence three or four times. The words are precious to me and I want to make them last.

I flip to what is unfortunately the last page, take a deep breath, feel a strange sense of loss, like I’m losing my mother all over again, and then start reading, hearing her voice in my head as I memorize each word:

I made it back from the Moon Realm, Tristan. I did it. Convinced a woman, a Resistance leader to implant her daughter with the matching microchip. She’s not just any girl, son. She’s special, like you, a real fighter. While I talked to her mother we watched her out back with her father, another Resistance leader. He was teaching her to fight, except she didn’t need any teaching. It was as if she’d been fighting for years, which, her mother assured me, she had been. Her name is Adele Rose.

Although it’s a longshot, I hope together you will be a force that even your father would never expect.

Tristan, if you’ve made it this far, then I hope to God that you’ve won, that you’ve found Adele Rose, that together you’ve made a difference for yourselves and for the Tri-Realms. Although I know the actions I took were drastic, radical even, in my heart I know I did the right thing for you and your brother. Take care of Killen. His heart isn’t as pure as yours, and your father gains a greater hold on him each and every day, but I know there’s goodness in him—you just need to show him the way.

I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you more openly and honestly about what I was planning, but in case anything went wrong I didn’t want your father to think you were involved. I’m sorry for the microchip, Tristan. It’s already in your back. I slipped you some sleeping medicine and had your father’s scientist implant it a few days ago. I hope I’m not making a terrible mistake, but drawing you to the Resistance seems like the best backup plan in case your father gets to me before I can tell the world about the
New City
.

Stay strong, my son. Do what you can to unite the Tri-Realms and give the people the opportunity to go above, if that’s what they wish. Know that I’m always with you and that I always love you. –Your Mom.

I close the book, wipe a tear from my eye. I can’t read this page a second time. Not yet. There are too many emotions on that page. My brother. I never even had a chance to try to convince him that he was headed down the wrong path. And now he’s dead. I’ve failed my mother with him already.

I’ve already forgiven my mother for the microchip. After all, it led me to Adele, who I love deeply, whether it started by natural attraction or neurological manipulation.

As far as uniting the Tri-Realms and telling the people about the
New City
, that’s something I will work hard to do, although I know it will be a long, hard road.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Adele watching me. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’d like to go above,” she says.

Adele

T
he last few days have been a whirlwind of activity and emotions. First I explained to Tristan why it was so important for him and me to go above before telling the rest of the Tri-Realms what was up there. This was going to be major news—unprecedented really—and there would be lots of questions. We needed to know the full story so we’d be in a position to answer as many of those questions as possible. We also needed to get an idea of the political climate: the population of the
New City
, the interest in taking on additional citizens, the complexity of building more cities. There are so many details we need to think about before we tell the underground dwellers what they’ve potentially been missing out on. Knowing what we know, it’s our duty to be prepared.

Tristan agreed, which was good, because I really didn’t want to have to fight him on it.

The second day Roc woke up. When he did, he was very confused, and kept saying things like, “All my best friends are in heaven?” or “Are you sure I’m not still dreaming?” Even unable to sit up he was able to make us laugh. And he grinned like a banshee when Tawni laid the biggest, longest kiss on him I’ve ever seen.

Even in Roc’s bedridden condition, he was still full of his usual Roc-ish wisdom and advice when we told him about our planned journey above. “The people will care about the small things,” he said, barely able to lift his head off his pillow. “Remember everything, or take copious notes if you can’t. From the colors, to the sounds, to the smells, to where people go to the bathroom, to how they dress, to the taste of the air—they’ll care about
everything
.”

“Thank you, Roc,” I said, “for the advice, and, well, for everything.” I squeezed his hand and blinked away the tears.

His brown eyes were bright with understanding but dry. “Tristan might not be as cool as me, but he’s still my brother. And you’ll always be my adopted sister. And Tawni—you all know how I feel about her. I’d do anything for you guys.” I turned away before my emotions painted my face. After all the death, the violence, and nearly taking his own life, he was still good old Roc, the truest friend in the world.

It was a good day. There were tears, there were hugs, there were laughs.

The third day Tristan addressed the people of the Tri-Realms via video message. He didn’t want to do it live—not just yet—preferring to write a script and then read it. It was broadcast to every Realm on their teleboxes. He confirmed the reports that his father and brother were dead and that everything was under control with him at the helm. He accepted the automatic nomination to the presidency that he’s entitled to as eldest son of the deceased president. Finally, he assured the Lower Realms that the ceasefire would continue indefinitely until a series of meetings could be held amongst Sun, Moon, and Star Realm leaders. The purpose of the meetings would be to determine what was best for all citizens of the Tri-Realms in terms of taxes, living conditions, et cetera.

Then he spent an entire day on the phone—bless his heart—trying to track down information on my mother. I watched him the entire time and when I finally saw him smile and his eyes light up, I hugged him as he confirmed the news:
She is alive!
He set up a video conference with her right away, and I was able to see and talk to her and Elsey again. We swapped each of our own crazy stories from the last few days, cried tears of joy, and discussed what was happening in each of the Realms we were in. Toward the end I told them what Tristan told us above the earth’s surface. My mom just nodded like she wasn’t surprised, told me she’d suspected something like that was happening, and told me to be careful when I went above, which I told her we were planning.

I said I knew about the microchip but didn’t slam her with questions. She said she was sorry and that was enough for me. Ending the call was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do.

The fourth day we prepared for our trip above, by gaining access to his father’s most confidential files. We read everything we could about the
New City
. Most of it was disturbing. You see, although Tristan’s father had given him a tour of the
New City
, had bragged about it, had told him all kinds of amazing things, he hadn’t told him the whole truth.

He’d made it sound like he wielded control over the
New City
, that he ruled above and below the earth, when in fact, he didn’t. The memos and bulletins we read in his files painted a very different picture. Although he still had complete power over the Tri-Realms, the
New City
was governed by its own president, a man named Borg Lecter. Not long after the
New City
was built, the people had rebelled against Nailin’s control and unwillingness to live aboveground. So they selected their own leader and started running things the way they wanted. However, they continued to trade with President Nailin—swapping solar energy for gemstones and iron ore—and allowed him to come up to visit whenever he wished, under strict supervision, of course. In a memo, President Nailin himself admitted to having very little interest in the affairs of the earth dwellers, and, in fact, preferred to maintain the status quo belowground. Clearly he knew that if he told the people of the Tri-Realms about the earth dwellers, it would ruin everything he’d worked so hard—off the sweat and blood of the moon and star dwellers—to build.

In other words, on Earth Tristan has no power, which changed everything when it came to our approach to going above. Initially we had planned to just go up the same tube that his father had once taken him, through the quarantine and cleansing, and into the city. Now that sounds like a huge risk. Who knows how President Lecter will receive the son of the President, who is now
the
President, a potential rival to him. And if he starts asking questions, he might not like the answers. Like what if he learns of Tristan’s decision to tell the citizens of the Tri-Realms about the
New City
? That may not go over so well.