plainclothes—black.
“Let’s see the bag,” she says, taking it from me. She rifles through the messages, and I try not to wince as one of the older ones from Bram comes apart in pieces.
She hands the bag back to me. “You can get dressed,” she says.
The moment I finish with the last button on my shirt, the Officer calls out to the head Official. “This one has nothing,” she says about me. The Official nods.
Back in my seat next to Indie, I slide my arms into my newly acquired coat. “I’m ready,” I say softly, barely moving my lips.
“It’s already in your coat pocket,” Indie says.
I want to ask her how she’s done it so quickly but I don’t want to be overheard. I feel almost giddy with relief at what we managed. What Indie managed.
When the Officer points at Indie a few moments later, she stands up and walks with her head bowed and her locked hands held obediently in front of her. Indie does a good job pretending to be broken, I think to myself.
Across the ship, the girl they searched after me begins to sob. I wonder if she tried to hide something and failed—which is what would have happened to me without Indie.
“You’d better cry,” another girl says dully. “We’re going to the Outer Provinces.”
“Leave her alone,” a third girl says. The Official notices the crying girl and brings her a green tablet.
Indie says nothing when she returns from the search. She doesn’t glance in my direction. I feel the weight of the tablets in my coat pocket. I wish I could look and make sure they are all there, the blue ones from Xander and my own three tucked inside, but I don’t. I trust Indie and she trusts me. The weight of the package is almost the same; any added heaviness imperceptible. Whatever she wanted to hide must be small and light.
I wonder what it is. Perhaps she will tell me later.
They give us minimal gear: two days’ worth of food rations, an extra set of plainclothes, a canteen, a pack in which we can carry everything. No knives, nothing sharp. No guns or weapons. A flashlight, but so lightweight and full of curved edges that it wouldn’t be much good for fighting.
Our coats are light but warm, made of something special, I can tell; and I wonder why they’d waste resources on people they send out here. The coats are the only sign that they might care if we live or die. More than anything else they’ve given us, the coats represent investment. Expenditure.
I glance up at the Official. He turns, opens the door to the pilot’s compartment again. He leaves it slightly ajar, and I can see the constellation of instruments lit up on the panel inside. To me they seem as numerous and incomprehensible as the stars, but the pilot knows his way.
“This ship sounds like a river,” Indie says.
“Are there many rivers where you’re from?” I ask.
She nods.
“The only river I’ve heard of anywhere near here is the Sisyphus River,” I say.
“The Sisyphus River?” Indie asks. I glance over to make sure the Officers and Official don’t listen to us. They seem tired; the female Officer even closes her eyes briefly.
“The Society poisoned it,” I tell her. “Nothing can live in it, or on its banks. Nothing can grow there.”
Indie looks at me. “You can’t ever really kill a river,” she says. “You can’t kill anything that’s always moving and changing.”
The Official moves around the air ship, talking to the pilot, speaking with the other Officers. Something about the way he moves on the ship reminds me of Ky; the way he could balance on a moving air train and anticipate small shifts in direction.
Ky did not need the compass with him to do that. I can travel without it, too.
I fly toward Ky and away from Xander and into what is Outer, different.
“Almost there,” the brown-haired Officer calls out. She glances over at us and I see something there—pity. She feels sorry for all of us. For me.
She shouldn’t. No one on this air ship should. I am
“Let’s see the bag,” she says, taking it from me. She rifles through the messages, and I try not to wince as one of the older ones from Bram comes apart in pieces.
She hands the bag back to me. “You can get dressed,” she says.
The moment I finish with the last button on my shirt, the Officer calls out to the head Official. “This one has nothing,” she says about me. The Official nods.
Back in my seat next to Indie, I slide my arms into my newly acquired coat. “I’m ready,” I say softly, barely moving my lips.
“It’s already in your coat pocket,” Indie says.
I want to ask her how she’s done it so quickly but I don’t want to be overheard. I feel almost giddy with relief at what we managed. What Indie managed.
When the Officer points at Indie a few moments later, she stands up and walks with her head bowed and her locked hands held obediently in front of her. Indie does a good job pretending to be broken, I think to myself.
Across the ship, the girl they searched after me begins to sob. I wonder if she tried to hide something and failed—which is what would have happened to me without Indie.
“You’d better cry,” another girl says dully. “We’re going to the Outer Provinces.”
“Leave her alone,” a third girl says. The Official notices the crying girl and brings her a green tablet.
Indie says nothing when she returns from the search. She doesn’t glance in my direction. I feel the weight of the tablets in my coat pocket. I wish I could look and make sure they are all there, the blue ones from Xander and my own three tucked inside, but I don’t. I trust Indie and she trusts me. The weight of the package is almost the same; any added heaviness imperceptible. Whatever she wanted to hide must be small and light.
I wonder what it is. Perhaps she will tell me later.
They give us minimal gear: two days’ worth of food rations, an extra set of plainclothes, a canteen, a pack in which we can carry everything. No knives, nothing sharp. No guns or weapons. A flashlight, but so lightweight and full of curved edges that it wouldn’t be much good for fighting.
Our coats are light but warm, made of something special, I can tell; and I wonder why they’d waste resources on people they send out here. The coats are the only sign that they might care if we live or die. More than anything else they’ve given us, the coats represent investment. Expenditure.
I glance up at the Official. He turns, opens the door to the pilot’s compartment again. He leaves it slightly ajar, and I can see the constellation of instruments lit up on the panel inside. To me they seem as numerous and incomprehensible as the stars, but the pilot knows his way.
“This ship sounds like a river,” Indie says.
“Are there many rivers where you’re from?” I ask.
She nods.
“The only river I’ve heard of anywhere near here is the Sisyphus River,” I say.
“The Sisyphus River?” Indie asks. I glance over to make sure the Officers and Official don’t listen to us. They seem tired; the female Officer even closes her eyes briefly.
“The Society poisoned it,” I tell her. “Nothing can live in it, or on its banks. Nothing can grow there.”
Indie looks at me. “You can’t ever really kill a river,” she says. “You can’t kill anything that’s always moving and changing.”
The Official moves around the air ship, talking to the pilot, speaking with the other Officers. Something about the way he moves on the ship reminds me of Ky; the way he could balance on a moving air train and anticipate small shifts in direction.
Ky did not need the compass with him to do that. I can travel without it, too.
I fly toward Ky and away from Xander and into what is Outer, different.
“Almost there,” the brown-haired Officer calls out. She glances over at us and I see something there—pity. She feels sorry for all of us. For me.
She shouldn’t. No one on this air ship should. I am
Similar Books
