Flame (17 page)

Waverly nodded. “She was inside the shuttle, behind her crew, and she was shouting, ‘Shoot to kill.’” Kieran detected something unnatural in Waverly’s monotone.

“Did you
see
her giving orders to kill people?” the interviewer asked.

“Yes,” Waverly said firmly.

Mather furiously turned off the com station. Her cheeks flared bright pink, and her breath sounded ragged and shaky. “She’s lying, Kieran. None of that is true. I have an audio recording of my transmissions to my crew through their headsets during the gun battle.” Mather tapped some commands into the com station and Mather’s voice came over the speakers. “Please! Come aboard! Stop shooting and come aboard!”

In the background of the recording was gunfire, and people shouting or crying out in pain. Very faintly, Kieran heard his own panicked voice calling, “Waverly! Waverly!”

He remembered all of it—every gunshot, every scream, his own cries, begging Waverly not to get on the enemy shuttle. He was shaking with the reality of it.

“Kieran,” Mather said, and waited until he could look at her face. “I’ll release this to the public, and it will help, but as you may know, Waverly’s testimony could be quite damning for me.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?”

“That’s your voice on the recording, calling her name. I know it. You could help me prove this recording is real.”

“I…,” Kieran stumbled. “I don’t remember that day.”

Mather studied him for a long, uncomfortable span of time, letting him know she saw through his lie. “Then can you at least appeal to Waverly? Get her to recant her false testimony? I know you’re not together anymore…”

“
How
do you know?” Kieran asked, suspicious.

“It’s obvious. Forgive me, but neither of you has even asked to see the other. It’s clear you’ve split, but…” She leaned toward him, her eyes betraying a deeply buried anxiety. “You were once very close. You might be able to influence her.”

Kieran made a sweaty fist, letting his chewed-up fingernails dig into his palm.

“Remember the future, Kieran. We’ve got one ship.” Mather held up a finger. “We have
one
chance to make it to New Earth. If this crew erupts into civil war, we won’t survive.”

He hated her in that instant, because he knew she was right. The survival of everyone depended on peace. Kieran didn’t think Waverly’s lies would lead to anything but more violence.

“Walk me to the door,” Mather said, standing up from the com station. “Will you?”

He laughed, amazed at her presumption, but he still found himself following her. The rules of decorum were hard to abandon, especially around someone like her—a grandmotherly woman with a careworn face.

“Kieran, I can see you’re torn by your feelings for Waverly. I understand that. But right now she’s perjuring herself. Once I prove she’s lying, she’ll be charged with attempted mutiny.”

Kieran regarded Mather with deep anxiety.
She’s implying that Waverly could be executed for this.

“There is another option,” Mather said slowly. “If you told Waverly you plan to testify that she’s lying, that would give her good reason to withdraw her testimony now, before I’m forced to pursue legal actions against her.”

They’d reached the door. Mather turned to wait for his reply.

He could never do that. He’d hate himself forever.

Mather saw his hesitation. “Then convince Waverly to recant however you can, and I won’t have to put you on the witness stand.”

He saw the trap she was setting: If he lied to protect Waverly, he could be charged with attempted mutiny, too.

“Or you could simply step down,” he said quietly, hoping there was some core of decency still left in her. “Save everyone by retiring.”

“You think it’s so simple? I have a strong and loyal core of followers.” Mather clenched her jaw as she stared at Kieran. “Many of them would die for me.”

“You’d let them start a civil war? Compromise the mission to defend yourself?”

This made her angry, and she jutted her jaw at him, but when she spoke her words were slow and cold. “I’ve had to choose between assuming the personal pain of difficult choices, or letting my flock suffer the anguish of knowing that their happiness depended on the destruction of other people. It might not seem it, Kieran, but everything I’ve done has been a personal sacrifice.”

“Oh. So you’re a martyr.”

“That’s right,” she said, her gray eyes flickering with a warning. “And the only thing more dangerous than a living saint is a dead one.”

Kieran was taken aback and remembered the fervor of her congregation, how they’d taken up her battle cry at the mere suggestion their faith was threatened, and he shuddered.

If their prophet were killed, they might never stop fighting.

“Will you talk to her, Kieran? Try to convince her?” Mather prodded. “This can only end in blood.”

“Yes,” he finally whispered, “I’ll talk to her.”

Mather smiled at him, opened the door, and stepped aside to reveal Waverly standing in the hallway, looking dazed. She was thin and pale as she stood back from Mather, her expression wary. Two armed men stood on either side of her, and the big one with the dove insignia on his shoulder held her by the elbow, looking like a giant. When Waverly shifted her weight, he watched her with unmistakable menace, and for one panicky moment, Kieran was afraid the man would break her arm.

He could,
Kieran thought.
He could snap her bones with a flick of his wrist.

“Come, Waverly,” Mather said. “You’re among friends here.”

The man let go of her arm, and Waverly stepped into the apartment, looking around furtively.

“You can wait out in the corridor for Waverly, can’t you, Thomas?” Mather asked him. With a nod, he placed himself just outside the door, his back to the corridor wall. Mather followed him out and reached to close the door behind her. She knew better than to exchange even a glance with Kieran, lest she give away the meeting’s true purpose.

He felt oily and sneaky and wrong.

Kieran turned to see his mother just releasing Waverly from a warm hug. At one time, Waverly and Lena had been close and had even belonged to the same book club. They used to laugh together at one witty novel or another, giggling at passages, eyes alight as they imagined the green pastures of preindustrial England.

“Can I whip up some cookies for you two?” Lena asked Kieran.

Waverly shook her head, but Kieran said, “Yes. Gingersnaps, please. Thank you, Mom.”

“Coming right up,” Lena said and jogged to the kitchen.

Waverly looked at Kieran, waiting until he beckoned her into his bedroom and closed the door behind her.

“How did you make this happen?” she asked, her voice wavering with barely suppressed panic. Having Mather come for her with armed guards had scared her badly.

“This was Mather’s idea,” he said.

Waverly seemed stunned by this and sat slowly on the bed. She passed her hand over the silk comforter and satin sheets, and Kieran felt once again embarrassed by his opulent surroundings. He sat down on the foot of the bed, leaving plenty of space between them. They looked at each other, each waiting for the other to begin.

Once Waverly started talking, words flooded out of her. She told him about the church elders led by an old doctor, how they were using her in a power play against Anne Mather. She mentioned a younger man who was also on the council, and how he seemed friendlier, though she was unsure he could be trusted. Then she hesitated for a moment, and with a glance at the bedroom door, whispered, “Your mom seems off.”

“It’s from decompression syndrome,” he said.

Waverly shook her head. “That’s a lie. Mather gave all the parents some kind of drug to make them docile.”

He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. It was almost a full minute before he could speak. “How do you know?”

“Dr. Carver told me. He’s working on a cure…” She paused midsentence, her eyes darting around the room, searching for a listening device, Kieran assumed.

He took a portable reader from the desk and typed into it,
As long as we don’t transmit, this should be safe.

She took the tablet from him and typed,
Dr. Carver is a neurologist. He said he might be able to cure our parents.

Kieran’s heart leapt at this.
Would he give us the cure if you didn’t testify against Mather?

I don’t think so,
Waverly typed.

That’s why she was giving false testimony. If he could have his own mother back, he’d perjure himself, too. He wanted to believe there was a cure, but he had misgivings, and he could see that she did, too. Only a truly despicable human being would force a girl to give false testimony before helping her brain-damaged mother. If the doctor was capable of that kind of blackmail, he was certainly capable of lying about a cure.

But then, Kieran suspected, Waverly knew that. She was willing to risk being executed just for the slim hope that a hateful old man might help her mother. In that moment, Kieran loved her again.

Waverly collapsed sideways onto his bed. He watched her abundant brown hair fall around her face and remembered how it used to feel in his hands when he kissed her. “I’m so tired,” she said with a groan. “This place makes me tired.”

“Me too,” Kieran muttered. He wondered if he should tell her what Mather had said about making him captain, but what if Waverly misconstrued it?

“Have you seen anyone?” she asked him. “Felicity?”

“She’s getting married,” Kieran said, failing to keep the longing out of his voice. By the searching way Waverly looked at him, he knew she’d noticed. “Did you know?”

“She mentioned something. Are you”—Waverly’s voice quivered—“interested in her?”

“Nah,” Kieran said, shaking his head. But Waverly saw. She knew. She’d always been able to unlock his secrets just by looking at him.

She smiled at him then, sadly and—was he imagining it?—wistfully. Did she want to get back together after everything? He’d thought that door was closed forever. In the tense silence, part of him wanted to reach for her, pull her in, but something held him back.

“You know…” Waverly lay on her back, her eyes dreamy on the ceiling. “That day, before you left to come to this ship to negotiate with Mather? And I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again … I’m sorry,” Waverly said. Her voice sounded small, and when he looked at her, she seemed shrunken. “I was wrong about so many things on the Empyrean. I think I forgot who you are.”

“Who
am
I?” he asked with a shake of his head. “On this ship, I don’t know anymore.”

She looked at him as though waiting for him to say something more, but he could only look at her. If he couldn’t tell her what Mather’s plans were for him, what
could
he say? Finally she dropped her eyes with visible disappointment.

If Mather was listening, and he thought she probably was, shouldn’t he try to talk to Waverly as she’d asked? Whatever happened, he needed to
seem
like he was on Mather’s side, at least until Waverly was able to get the cure from the doctor, if there was one.

“Waverly,” Kieran knelt on the floor in front of her. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“What?” She gave a half turn away from him, casting her face in shadow.

Kieran took up the portable pad and typed,
Mather might be listening. This is a performance. Understand?

She sat very still as though bracing herself.

“When you testified for the church elders,” Kieran said, “Mather says you were lying.” He took in a deep breath, put his hand on hers firmly, willing her to feel his friendship in his grasp. “
Were
you?”

Her face took on a rage so rapid and intense he instinctively leaned away. “Did Mather set this up with you? Are you supposed to talk me out of testifying?” She looked around the room as though she were already caged.

Kieran nodded slowly and mouthed the words,
Play along.

“I’m afraid you’re walking into a trap,” he said aloud. “Because
if
you’re lying, you’re giving Mather a reason to come after you.”

“I’m. Not. Lying,” she said steadily, then took the pad and typed,
Mather is weak right now. This is our only chance to bring her down.

Kieran bit his lip and typed,
She’s stronger than you think. Her followers are zealots.
“I just want you to be careful.”

Waverly stood abruptly and spat, “I can’t believe I trusted you.”

Kieran stood, unsure about whether she was putting on a show or if he’d really offended her. She marched out of his bedroom but stuck her head into the kitchen where Lena was still measuring out ingredients for the cookies. Kieran saw an immense heap of white flour in the mixing bowl—enough to make a dozen batches.

Waverly looked back at Kieran with sadness. He took a half step toward her, but she was already walking to the front door. She closed it behind her without looking back.

Kieran went back to his room to lie down, and then it came to him.

I made mistakes on the Empyrean, too.
That’s what she’d expected him to say in response to her apology:
I was wrong, too. I’m sorry.

He should have said that. But he hadn’t.

DOUBT

Seth stretched on the bare mattress, slowly emerging from sleep, then jerked awake with a start. He’d intended to sleep only a couple hours before leaving to find Waverly, but he could tell that he’d slept a lot longer than that.

He put on his hooded sweatshirt, shouldered his bag of painting supplies and the new can of metal patina, and squeezed back into the conduit behind the apartment, snaking his way past plumbing and electrical wiring until he reached the maintenance closet. He listened a long time at the door before he dared to crack it open. Finding the hallway empty, he darted across to the central stairway, sprinted up a level, and slipped into the maintenance closet across the hall.

This ship was identical in design to the Empyrean, so his entire route ought to be camera free. No one knew he’d come here.