Authors: Kat Ross
My father though. . . I love him, but I don’t think he’d react well to what I’ve been up to, even if the ends justify the means. He’s a true believer, is Anker Nordqvist. I come from a long line of high-profile military officers, back through my great-grandfather, which is why my dad’s family got a spot underground. On my mom’s side, it was first-rate scientific credentials. They met way back in grade school when they were still struggling to cope with the Transition.
At least my generation never knew anything else. We were born into the prefectures. But our parents were just little kids when they saw the world go to hell. Next thing they know, they’re being whisked away to live deep underground, with empty spaces where certain relatives and friends used to be that no one wants to talk about. It’s like the generations after the World Wars must have felt: deeply traumatized. Neither of them talked about it much when I was growing up, but I can see it in my father’s unswerving loyalty to Raven Rock. The conviction that he lost everything once and won’t let it happen again. That this is all we have left, and we’ll fight for it to the end, do whatever has to be done to hold onto it.
I can’t blame him. But I don’t believe that anymore. There’s something better out there. And I’ll keep looking until I find it.
That night when I dream, I dream of Will, but it’s not the bad dream, it’s different, for the first time. We’re holding hands, and it’s the valley and the sheep and the sun pouring through a gap in the clouds, and when I wake up my heart breaks anew in a million sharp pieces.
I lie in bed, staring into the darkness for what seems like hours, waiting for them to turn on the dawn. Why did I come back here? What was I expecting? I’m not the person I used to be, and never will be again.
They don’t own me anymore. I think it’s time I let them know that.
The medal ceremony commences at exactly 0900 on the parade grounds. Friends and family are not invited to attend; this is strictly a military affair. However, in a break from tradition, Kozlowski has invited the news media to attend. They’re in a roped-off area next to the stage, ready to broadcast live once it starts.
I’m the main attraction, or rather, the special commendation she’s giving me is. It’s an irresistible story, especially since I refused all interview requests after they brought me back.
We’re all wearing our dress uniforms, which are pearl grey with a high embroidered collar and a double row of silver buttons running up the right side. They’ve turned the daylight up extra bright, giving the shadows knife-sharp edges. The band plays our national anthem as we stand at attention. Then Kozlowski takes the stage.
“You, the twenty-second class of this Academy, stand at a seminal moment in this prefecture’s history. Our peace and security are threatened by old enemies and new, but we shall not falter. The principles upon which this society is founded – freedom, strength and prosperity for each man, woman and child – are too precious to entrust to the whims of bureaucrats.”
She’s sending a message, and I suddenly understand that my medal is just a pretext to call out the media.
Kozlowski goes on for a while about honor, values and the need to defend our way of life by any means. She recalls the sacrifices of our forebears, and implies that we, the remnant of a remnant, were anointed by some kind of divine force to carry the torch of civilization. Will once said the Academy sounded vaguely fascist. I’m starting to think he could have dropped the modifier.
Then she glances over at me, eyes sharp and bright the way the gulls get when they spot a shoal of fish, and I know my moment is coming. Last night, I lay awake for a long time thinking about the ceremony. What it means. I don’t really care what they do to me anymore, but I don’t want my parents to get hurt either.
“. . .been exemplary. Cadet Nordqvist embodies the resilient spirit of our founders, who triumphed over adversity through sheer grit and superior intellect.”
Kozlowski beckons and I salute, then cross the grounds and ascend the stage to stand next to her.
“For these reasons, the faculty has decided to present Cadet Nordqvist with a medal for meritorious service to her prefecture.” The audience applauds as an aide hands Kozlowski a velvet box, from which she removes a silver pin in the shape of two crossed swords. Flashbulbs pop as she attaches it to my lapel.
I look out at the crowd. Six rows of folding chairs have been set up in front of the stage for faculty and visiting bigwigs. Kozlowski is front and center, beaming at me. I smile back, although my chest is suddenly swelling with hate so intense it makes my throat clench like a fist. I want to hit their smug, pink faces, hurt them the way they’ve hurt so many others. Put
them
in the windowless room with dogs barking outside the door, chains in the ceiling and stains on the concrete floor. That’s what defiance buys you in our exalted society. I come close to chickening out then, but I think of Will, of how he risked everything to help me for no reason at all besides the fact that he was a decent human being, and it puts a little strength back in my knees.
I owe him this
, I think.
The crowd is starting to get fidgety, so I clear my throat and start to speak.
“Thank you, Commandant, for those kind words,” I say, the microphones carrying my voice across the yard. To my relief, I sound strong and confident, not at all as shaky as I feel inside. “Being a part of this institution has opened my eyes to reality in so many ways. I see now that old orders must give way to new.”
Kozlowski nods approvingly and returns to her seat.
“During my time on the surface, I met someone who embodied the values of this new order. Generosity, compassion, hope. Unfortunately, he can’t be with us today.”
Sherwood looks a little confused, but Kozlowski already suspects things are going off the rails. She whispers something to an aide and he speaks softly into his com link.
“He can’t be here because he was shot in cold blood by commandos, who also gunned down every single person on the island where I was being held. Children included.”
I see sentinels moving up the aisles. Just a few seconds left.
“Who were they? I’ll tell you. Descendants of the ones we abandoned to die up there.” I look straight into the cameras. “They hate us, and why shouldn’t they? They’re not the savages. We are.”
As they swarm the stage, I rip the medal off and hurl it at Kozlowski. It hits her square in the chest and falls to her feet. From the look she’s giving me, I assume I’ve made an enemy for life. Well, she can get in line.
The other cadets stare at me in shocked silence as the sentinels escort me down the steps. Then the media section erupts, reporters hollering out questions and poking me with microphones as I’m hauled past. I blow them a kiss.
The disciplinary hearing is mercifully brief. Most of it is taken up by Sherwood, and her testimony is not flattering. She doesn’t outright call me a crypto-terrorist, but reports in a voice thick with regret that my mindset in the classroom can only be described as seditious, disloyal and deeply alienated.
The board’s verdict is unanimous: expulsion, effective immediately. The only reason I’m not being punished further is because of who my father is. Although considering how badly I’ve damaged him, that protection will be short-lived.
Two sentinels escort me from my cubicle through the dormitory to a waiting vehicle. As I’m about to get in, a long black car pulls up. Kozlowski. She barely spoke at the hearing, opting to simply stare at me with icy disdain.
“Stand down,” she tells the sentinels. “I’d like a few words in private with Nordqvist.”
Not cadet anymore, I notice. Just Nordqvist.
They move back a ways and stand with hands loosely clasped, eyes staring into the middle distance, like automatons that have been switched to hibernation mode.
“Our little rebel,” she says softly. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you? Not a clue.” Kozlowski laughs with genuine mirth. “Didn’t you learn a single goddamn thing all the years you spent here? If you think you’re out of my reach now, that you can go back to being some kind of
civilian
, you’re even dumber than I thought. You and your family are completely expendable, and no one’s going to care when we pull your lives apart piece by bloody piece.”
“Or?” I say mildly. I figure she wouldn’t bother to come all the way out here just to berate me. Kozlowski’s rants always have an ulterior motive.
“Or you tape a statement saying you were on heavy medication at the graduation ceremony and apologizing for your delusional ravings. Waring will back it up. Then you go on indefinite sick leave until this nightmare blows over.”
“And then?”
“Then we’ll see.”
I know they’ll never trust me again. It’s just a delayed sentence. And I wouldn’t take back what I said if she threatened to shoot me on the spot.
“Tell me something, Commandant. Do you really believe all the things you said in that speech?”
The question catches her off guard and she frowns. “What does it matter?”
“It doesn’t.” I get in and slam the car door. The driver waits for her nod, then pulls away. I watch Kozlowski in the rearview, staring after us, until we pass through the gatehouse and turn onto the road to the station. It’s strange knowing I’ll never be back here again. Everything I’ve taken for granted my whole life has been swept away, but nothing has taken its place yet, and I just feel empty.
I catch a late train back to Raven Rock. Halfway there my hands start to shake uncontrollably and I guess I have my first panic attack. I think about swallowing the stash of pills I saved up. But then I picture Kozlowski’s smug grin and decide I can’t give her the satisfaction. When we’re an hour away, I finally work up the nerve to call my house from the courtesy phone in my compartment. There’s no answer, and I hang up without leaving a message.
I know my parents were watching the ceremony live, and they certainly got a personal call from Kozlowski after the hearing. I’m still not sure what I’m going to tell them.
It comes as a huge relief when I step onto the platform at dawn and see my mother. Alone. She starts crying and we hug hard for a long minute without speaking.
“Where’s Dad?” I mumble into her shoulder. I’m crying a little too.
“Council meeting,” she says. “He’ll be home tomorrow.” She cups her hands around my face and inspects me. Smiles crookedly. “See, I told you going back to school would do you good.”
We look at each other and then we both crack up, the half-hysterical laughter of the doomed.
God, I love my mother.
As we walk to the car, I decide to tell her everything, starting at the beginning. For the first time, I talk about Will and how his passionate study of botany reminded me so much of her. I tell her about the others, especially Charlie and Nileen who I always felt closest to, and how I decided I wanted to stay on the surface, even if it meant never seeing my family again. And then I tell her about Nix. About the report and the human trials and my stubborn belief that there’s something in Tisiphone’s impenetrable heart.
As I talk, I compulsively check the traffic display to see if we’re being followed, even though I know that no halfway competent agents would let themselves be seen. Besides which, they already know where we’re going.
My mom listens without interrupting, though she looks over when I mention Nix.
“This was recent?” she says. “Are you sure?’
“Dated a couple weeks ago. Have you heard the name before?”
Maybe it’s my imagination, but she seems to pause for a fraction of a second.
“No, of course not. Human trials you say? That’s illegal. Experimentation without informed consent has been banned for two decades.”
“I’m just telling you what I saw.”
“I believe you, honey, it’s just. . . This is a lot to take in. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that you’ve been expelled from the Academy, probably derailed your dad’s career, and have no future.” She touches my hand as we pull into the driveway and smiles to take the sting out of her words, but they still cut. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ve always thought conversations like this go so much better over some Earl Grey.”
Two minutes later we’re sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea with lemon, when the phone rings. My mother answers it in the study. I hear her talking in low, urgent tones. When she comes out, her face is grim.
“That was our attorney, Abel Ayela. He says agents will be coming to the house to question you tomorrow. They tore your school computer apart, Jan, and they found something. They know, or suspect, what you’ve been digging into.”
My mother looks ashen. I’ve never seen her like this, not even the time I fell off a roof during a training exercise and the doctors thought I might not walk again.
“Do you realize what this means? For all of us? It’s not just our jobs on the line here anymore. It’s our lives, Jansin. You of all people should understand the direction this prefecture has been going in. Mercy is not their strong suit.”
“I wiped the hard drive,” I say lamely.
“Not well enough.” My mother shakes her head. Closes her eyes. “We never should have sent you there. It was your father’s idea. He thought it would settle you down, teach you some discipline. The great Nordqvist tradition.” She laughs hollowly. “I knew you’d be a thorn in someone’s side. I just didn’t think it would be the commandant herself.” She takes my hand, squeezes it. “Listen, there’s someone else I need to call. About this whole Nix thing. Just sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
“OK, Mom.”
I play with the handle of my mug, twisting it around and around. My stomach churns.
Agents. Coming tomorrow. I wonder if my dad will get here before them. I wonder if it makes any difference at this point.
My mother’s right. I’ve made a royal mess of things. And this time it’s not just me who’s suffering the consequences, it’s all of us.
I hear her whispering through the study door and wonder why she’s whispering since I’m the only one here. Who exactly did she call? Not my dad. She would have said so. Not our lawyer. She just got off the phone with him. Someone I don’t know or she would have said their name, as in, I’m going to call Dick or Harry or whoever. But she didn’t say their name. And it’s not like her to be so secretive. Her parents are dead. She has no brothers or sisters. Maybe I’m just feeling paranoid, but something seems
off.