The Second Rebel, page 39
“Twelve or thirteen, I think,” she says, deeply surprising me. I’d thought seventeen or eighteen on the basis of their questions. “They’ll be adults soon and choose their profession at sixteen, but until then, they live in their age group and work as apprentices in various fields. The most remarkable thing is that they broke the rules for you. Those not considered adults aren’t supposed to speak with anyone outside the Asters.”
So that’s why they fled when they spotted Ofiera. “Why me?” I muse aloud, silently hoping I haven’t gotten them into trouble.
“The same reason you asked them questions you hesitated to ask others,” she says, shocking me again. “Curiosity.” Was she listening in the tunnels before she appeared? How much did she hear? A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of another Icarii spying on me. I’m so tired of being watched and scrutinized.
I try not to let my hostility filter into my tone and fail. “You sure know a lot about Asters…”
When she smiles this time, the expression softens her face, making her look less like a member of the Icarii military and more like an actual person. “My husband, Sorrel,” she says as if that explains it all. And in a way, it does. Ofiera hardly looks older than I am, except for her eyes. In the wistful way she gazes past me, she reminds me of the Abuela when she spoke of friends long gone. I know that she, like the Harbinger, is hundreds of years old. What has she seen in these long years that others have buried and forgotten?
“My ears are burning. Someone must be talking about me.” Sorrel emerges from the same tunnel Ofiera came out of. He greets me with another one of his charismatic smiles, but there’s something naked in his face when he looks at Ofiera, like whatever mask he wears isn’t for her.
He stares at her like she is a crashing wave, beautiful and unobtainable, and yet he wants nothing more than to spend his lifetime trying to hold her. When he reaches her side, he leans down from his considerable height to kiss her, and she looks at him in the same way, like he is her shore and she would happily fall upon his rocky reach forever.
I turn to watch the bee-creatures lazily moving from plant to plant; the moment between them is too intimate for an intruder.
“The Elders are about to meet with the people to discuss options for dealing with the Icarii,” Sorrel says.
I spin back toward them.
“Do you think they’ll choose to turn us over to them?” Ofiera asks, her hand over Sorrel’s on her shoulder.
“I’m not sure,” Sorrel says, but he doesn’t sound scared about it, just resolved. “There are other options, though.” His eyes move from his wife’s to mine. “Thanks to your boy, Lucinia, there is another way.”
This time, when Castor is called my boy, my stomach churns in disgust. I don’t like the way that Sorrel makes it seem as if I own Castor.
“Or maybe I should say thanks to you,” he says a moment later. “You were the one who got us the research, after all.”
Again I wonder how research into the Aster genome and the Icarii genelock could help in this scenario. Castor failed to inform me of his grand idea, and now it feels like Sorrel is waving that above my head, dangling the information just out of reach to tease me.
I don’t ask; I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing Castor left me out of the loop.
“We should be part of the discussion with the Elders, right?” I ask, and gesture back down the tunnel. “After you.”
I don’t miss Sorrel’s self-satisfied smirk as he takes the handles of Ofiera’s gravchair and pushes her ahead of us.
* * *
EVEN MORE ASTERS have packed into the Elders’ chamber until the room is full. I can’t even see the beautiful floor tiling or the central fountain because of all the bodies. Luckily, the crowd parts for Sorrel and Ofiera, and I follow to the edge of the platform, where Hemlock and Castor wait.
“There you are,” Castor says. “We’re about to present our ideas to the Elders. Then they’ll decide how to deal with the Icarii.”
“Right,” I say, looking from Castor to Sorrel and then Hemlock. The latter looks harried, a slight tremble affecting his hands clasped before him.
From one moment to the next, the chatter dims and dies. I’m sure the Elders have used their pheromones to call for quiet and the others have answered immediately.
“We come together to discuss the plan that will affect the future of Vesta,” Anemone says, Cedar and Rue on either side of her. “What will we Asters say, as one voice?”
The majority in the room say nothing, but I know that doesn’t mean they’re not communicating; they’re probably making their opinions known by their pheromones.
One of the first to speak openly is a man who takes one step toward the platform and says, “Turn over Ofiera fon Bain and the Aster called Sorrel to the Icarii! Throw in the other siks too, for good measure!” The proclamation is met with hostile looks, making it obvious how unpopular that opinion is.
Once the man dips his head, cowed by the glares of others, Hemlock raises his soft voice. “The Alliance of Autarkeia stands ready to fight the Icarii. The Elders have only to will it.”
Ready, but how will they fare? I wonder if they’re any match for the Icarii’s military might, or whether it’ll be a slaughter.
“They can distract the Icarii,” Hemlock says, “allowing us a chance to escape Vesta.”
His words send others into hysterics.
“—leave Vesta?”
“—it’s our home—”
“We can’t just go—”
“Quiet,” Anemone says, and the room is silent once more. To Hemlock, she says, “The opinion of one who would be an Elder had misfortune not befallen him has been noted. Are there any other options?”
One who would be an Elder had misfortune not befallen him. The phrasing is strange, as if it’s a concept that doesn’t quite translate.
“Thanks to the work of Lucinia sol Lucius and Castor, there is another way,” Sorrel begins, and hearing my name on his lips sends a chill through me. Once again, the crowd takes a step back from him, their eyes wide with a sort of religious awe. Only Ofiera is in his radius, immune to his sway. “As many of you know, Castor and Lucinia retrieved sensitive information from Val Akira Labs. Some of that data Lito sol Lucius left with to leak to the Icarii in hopes of shutting down the illicit experiments on our people.” He strides closer to the platform until he stands just before the Elders, his words holding everyone in the room in their grip. “But they also retrieved research to complete Project Genekey.”
I look to Hemlock for explanation, but see only horror written in the lines of his face.
“Initially, this project sought to map the Aster genome, comparing and contrasting the mutations of the first Asters to the genetic modifications of the Icarii people. This was how we discovered the genelock, a Val Akira Labs creation that stabilized beneficial genetic mutations, like protection against space radiation, while blocking harmful mutations, such as an increased chance of cancer growth.
“Of course, when Val Akira Labs discovered that Aster researchers were looking into the genelock, they reacted… strongly. The research was sealed, and the researchers involved were done away with.” Sorrel’s blue-green eyes pierce like a thousand needles. We all know done away with means killed.
His entire face changes when he smiles. “I’m now happy to report that Project Genekey has been completed.” The way he says it is in direct opposition to the swallowing black dread I feel. “We have a working sample of what we are calling the Genekey virus.”
I know I should be quiet and still, but I find myself stepping forward and speaking up. “How will this virus help us here and now with the Icarii?”
“Because, like geneassists who use viruses to deploy genetic modifications, we can target the genelock and immediately change the Icarii genome,” Sorrel says. A shadow of fear grows in me, and I curl my hands into fists as if I could possibly fight it.
My words come out weak. “Target… the genelock?”
“Strip it.” Sorrel turns to the Asters as if speaking to them instead of me. In a way, he is; he only needs to convince them of the rightness of his plan. I am inconsequential, a bit part in this theater play of his. “We can destroy the genelock, the thing that separates Icarii from Aster. The Genekey virus will attack their chosen genetic changes and mutate them, and the Icarii will revert back to the version of humanity they were on Earth before they took to the stars.”
“But if the Icarii don’t have the genelock, we would get sick, we could suffer cancer—” I start, but stop immediately.
That’s what he wants. That’s Sorrel’s goal. Threaten the Icarii way of life. Force them to capitulate or suffer sickness and death. Because, without the genelock, the Icarii cannot continue to live on Mercury or Venus. We’ll die by the hundreds of thousands, twisted and diseased.
It takes all of my concentration—all of my willpower—to understand and not scream.
Around the room, faces change from awe to hope. I can feel the optimism rippling through the crowd as they seize this plan, not thinking of the horror involved in it, only the potential that Vesta may be saved.
It is Castor I look at—Castor with his straight back and squared shoulders and burning golden eyes, as he looks at the Harbinger, his hero.
This was his idea, I realize all at once. This was the idea he had that he ran to tell Sorrel about. Somehow they used the research I gave him to create the Genekey virus. So how guilty does that make you? a part of me whispers.
“Allow us to send the instructions for the Genekey virus to our allies on Cytherea for them to deploy on one of the levels,” Sorrel continues. “Allow us to show the Icarii the scientific might of the Asters.” He clenches a fist before his chest. “Not only will the Genekey virus stop the Icarii invasion of Vesta, we will be able to demand a cessation of Icarii aggression toward us throughout the galaxy. We will make a place for ourselves where none has been given before, an Aster nation apart from those who would enslave us.” He thrusts his fist into the air as his voice reaches its peak. “Together, we will change the universe.”
The room breaks into excited chatter, so much of it positive that I am drowned in despair. The three Elders turn to speak among themselves about Sorrel’s proposal, but I find myself pulled toward the boy who attracted me from the first moment I met him.
Only now as I approach Castor, I feel the widening gap between us instead of the magnetic pull. I slip through the crowd unknown and unseen, my eyes only on him, and when I reach his side, when he turns from the Harbinger to me, my heart shatters as I realize that there is no coming back from this. Whatever potential life we had together is gone. We are done.
“You lied to me…”
“What?”
“You lied to me! That research—you’re going to weaponize it? You said it was to help Asters, not to harm the Icarii!”
Castor squares his shoulders. If anything, he grows instead of shrinks in the face of my accusation. “It’s a threat, Luce. If the Icarii back off from Vesta, we won’t need to deploy the virus. I thought you’d be happy, I’m trying to get Lito back—”
“That’s not what your Harbinger said!” I roar. “He’s talking about attacking an entire level of Cytherea—even the innocents! I understand that they need to be stopped, but how is killing innocent Icarii any better than what they do? Releasing the virus means the Icarii will get cancer, or even worse diseases. Many will die!”
“They’ve been doing that to us for years.” Castor’s voice is small but cold. “If we harm a few Icarii, we can save a lot more lives. No one will have to go to war. No one will have to die.”
“Your argument is the greater good?” I ask, and I’m ashamed to feel my eyes burning with angry tears. “A lot has been done in the name of the greater good that wasn’t all that good,” I hiss.
Isn’t considering the greater good what the Icarii have been doing all this time? The reason they experiment on Asters, so they don’t hurt Icarii with unknown tech. And Hiro—I think of the recordings Castor gave me, the way the Icarii cut off their limbs and changed their face and body, turning them into a Gean spy, all for the greater good.
I close my eyes and press my hands to my face. This time it’s not the thousand gods I pray to. What the hell am I supposed to do, Lito?
But I know the answer to that: If there’s a chance for one life to save thousands, you pick the one. You become the one.
“I’ll do it,” I say softly.
“What?” Castor asks.
When I speak again, it’s as loud as I possibly can. “I’ll be the test subject for the Genekey virus!”
The room falls into a silence deeper than when Anemone spoke. It feels as if the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for me to make it right.
“I understand you need a test subject to prove the Genekey virus’s effectiveness for it to be a compelling deterrent.” I step toward Sorrel, sure that it’s him I need to convince more than the others. If he’s persuaded, they will be too. “Let me be that test subject.” I stop just in front of him. Behind him, the three Elders loom. “There’s no need to harm thousands of Icarii on Cytherea, including those who would never condone what has been done to the Asters, when you can show the Icarii what will happen when I take the virus.”
Sorrel’s eyes narrow the slightest bit, as if he’s suspicious of my offer.
“We can record it,” I go on, fighting the tremor of fear in my voice. It’s only now hitting me what I’ve volunteered to do—mutate, get sick, die—to save thousands of Icarii and Asters from war. “We can show them what happens in real time to someone with the Genekey virus.”
“You think the example of one Icarii girl will be enough?” Sorrel asks. He wants to attack the level in Cytherea; despite all his charismatic smiles, he wants to hurt as many Icarii as possible.
“If it does what you say it will,” I say, “it will be.”
Tell me, Lucinia, Hemlock asks in my memory, what would you do to get Lito back?
Anything, I said. And now I know the full extent of that: I’m willing to go farther than anyone else. I’m willing to change myself irreparably. Even die.
But it’s not just for Lito; I’m doing it for all of the innocents, all of those affected by war who don’t even directly fight in it.
Sorrel nods at last. “All right. I think this is a good solution.” He looks at the Elders, and I release a sigh of relief; Cytherea is safe for now, even if I am not.
Anemone dips her head as if in agreement. “Does anyone object to this plan?”
“Fuck that!” Castor exclaims. “Yes, I object. We should be testing the Genekey virus on someone who deserves it, not her. We can drag one of those ship-boarding duelists here and—”
“We will not provoke a war to gain a single subject when we already have a volunteer,” Anemone says, her voice maddeningly calm.
“Castor—” Sorrel starts.
“I said fuck no!” Castor yells, his anger now turned on his Harbinger.
Sorrel collapses the space between them in a single step. I can barely make out what he whispers to the younger Aster. “Is this how you’ll be known in the Aster rebellion, as someone unwilling to sacrifice?”
I’ve seen Castor face death with a smile, so I expect him to grab Sorrel by the throat. But he says nothing. Does nothing. And then, slowly, his face falls until I hardly recognize him. He nods at last, granting his assent.
“My objection is withdrawn,” he says, voice toneless and face blank.
Somehow this—Castor choosing Sorrel’s sway over my safety—is the final nail in the coffin. All the desire I felt toward him burns, curling into ashes and drifting away with the wind, leaving only a hard black thing that feels similar to hatred.
“We accept this proposal,” Anemone says to the entire room. “Harbinger, you will utilize the Genekey virus for testing on Lucinia sol Lucius, with the end goal of stopping Icarii aggression with no further loss of life.”
“I will,” Sorrel says, like a valiant knight accepting a quest in a drama.
I say nothing as the Elders dismiss the others. It’s only when Hemlock approaches me that the weight of my future bears down on me. “It’ll take a few hours to complete preparations,” he says.
“And you,” Sorrel says, smiling at me smoothly, “should prepare yourself.”
I clench my hands into fists. I refuse to even glance in Castor’s direction. “I was prepared the moment I spoke,” I say, forcing a smile back.
And with that, I turn on my heel and leave the Elders’ chamber to spend what could be the last moments of my life alone in nature.
CHAPTER 36 HIRO
Nadyn sent confirmation: the Synthetic agent from Autarkeia is in our brig. Prep the med bay and bring her up. We have work to do.
Message from Commander Shinya val Akira
Shinya leaves me in the reception room with nothing but the low table and the livecam view of the stars. He doesn’t rebind my hands, but he doesn’t have to. The door is locked, and the hallway, from what I can hear, is full of duelists and soldiers.
I consider breaking something—maybe pulling the bolted-down table out of the floor and driving it into the wall-sized screen—but realize how petty that is. It could be worse, I remind myself. I could be down in the brig with the brainwashed outlaws.
I’ve never been good at captivity, though, so I pace, trying to keep track of time and failing extraordinarily. How long has it been since they dragged me off the Dominique? How long will they keep me in this room? If I don’t agree to return to my former life as a duelist and be the child my father always wanted me to be, what will they do with me?
Because I don’t make the mistake of believing that this is just Shinya’s operation anymore. It has my father’s hands all over it. Shinya would never have made the offer he did without my father’s express approval.
So where are you, Father? I think, looking at the livecam screen as I pace.
