Flame (8 page)

“What matters now is the future,” Mather offered.

“Not to Waverly,” the old man said. He turned to her, lifted his chin, waiting.

“You need to answer for what you did,” Waverly said to Mather.

Mather stuck out her chin. “What about what your crew did to us?”

“Ah!” The doctor was shifting in his seat back and forth, as though he were at a sporting event. “Go on.”

“Captain Jones and your … his scientists destroyed our fertility,” Mather said, her strength restored.

“They paid for it with their lives,” Waverly said. “What more do you want?”

“What?” The doctor looked at Mather. “Does the girl not know?”

Mather shook her head, barely perceptibly, but the doctor ignored her. “Your Captain is alive, Waverly.”

Waverly felt as though the wind had been knocked from her body. When she looked at Mather, she saw the woman glaring at the old man as though plotting his murder. He stared back at her, fearless.

Waverly finally started to believe at least part of what the doctor had said. He wanted to topple Anne Mather. Judging from the way Mather was watching him, beads of sweat moistening the small hairs on her upper lip, he’d already begun.

Waverly looked at the old man sitting next to her, his maleficent glare, the way his fingers dug like claws into the wooden arms of his chair. Like it or not, whoever he was, Waverly had just cast her lot with him.

“Waverly,” the old man said as he struggled out of his chair, “I wonder if you’d lend me an arm.”

Waverly stood, feeling awkward under the watchful glare of Anne Mather, and took hold of his elbow. Under the rough fabric of his woven jacket, his arm felt surprisingly alive with wiry strength. “Good-bye, Anne,” he said as he straightened his back and looked down at her in triumph.

“Good-bye, Wesley,” Mather muttered. Her fear seemed to have left her, and she looked at him with a loathing that seemed rooted in a great deal of time and experience.

Waverly walked out with the old man, acutely aware of his thumbnail, thickened and discolored, as it dug into the flesh of her elbow. He steered her toward the elevators, holding up a single finger to the armed guards who started to follow them. To Waverly’s surprise, the men went back to stand outside Mather’s office door.

The old man said nothing, seeming to wait for Waverly to speak. “Have you found out anything about what’s wrong with my mom?” she finally asked.

“I have.” Carver glanced at her with jiggling red eyeballs. “As far as I understand, most of the Empyrean crew has been medically lobotomized.”

With her free hand, Waverly wrapped her sweater around herself more tightly. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“A lobotomy severs the connection between the prefrontal cortex and the rest of the brain.”

“
What?
” she shrieked just as they passed an open office door. A red-haired man seated at the desk looked up irritably from his portable reader.

“I said it was done
medically.
” He held up a finger, then pressed the elevator call button. “
Medicinally.
”

“With drugs,” she said softly. “So it’s reversible?”

“I might be able to design an antidote, given the right incentives.”

Waverly wished she could pull her arm away from him. “Why didn’t Mather do that to me?”

Carver smiled with half his face so that he looked distorted, as though she were watching him through a vortex. “She still might, I suppose. Unless you do something to stop her.”

Waverly pressed her free hand into the pit of her stomach. “I feel sick.”

“I don’t blame you,” the man said, feigning sympathy, though he looked delighted. “Don’t you see, Waverly, why I want to put an end to these monstrosities? Don’t you see how much we need you?”

The elevator bell sounded, and the doors slid open. From inside came three pregnant women dressed in farm coveralls, giggling together.

“You say you might be able to design an antidote? For my mom, and the others?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On you, Waverly. Anne Mather would hardly let me reanimate her flock of tamed doves if she remains in power. But if you give us the testimony we need…”

“Okay,” she finally said. “All right. I’ll do it.”

“Good.” He let go of her arm, and as she stepped onto the elevator, she felt the blood rushing into her fingertips.

He blocked the elevator door with his cane as he beckoned Mather’s guards. They rushed to comply and stepped onto the elevator with Waverly. The doctor turned his back on her before the elevator doors closed.

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

Kieran had just finished shaving, a ritual he still performed though it seemed poignantly futile. He was still haunted by the reunion of the Empyrean children, unable to sleep, hating himself for being unable to help the orphans. As a leader, he was a complete failure. He rinsed his razor in the steaming water, then turned off the faucet. In the quiet, he heard laughter coming from the living room. Someone was here.

He opened the bathroom door to find his mother sitting with Felicity on the large orange couch, eating cookies and drinking fruit juice. Felicity had made his mother laugh, a lightweight giggle he hadn’t heard in months, and Felicity smiled in a way that made her cheeks glow. When she noticed him standing in the doorway, she stood. “Kieran!”

“Hi, Felicity,” he said and tripped on his own feet as he left the bathroom. He wanted to ask what she was doing here, but he couldn’t think how without sounding rude.

“Do you remember that dance recital we were in together when we were little?” She asked. “I think we were…”

She looked at Kieran’s mother, who said, “No more than seven.”

“We were square dancing, and you and I knocked heads during the do-si-do?”

“I felt really bad about that,” Kieran said, wincing at the memory.

“You helped me off the floor,” Felicity said, her bright eyes wandering over his face. “You were always a gentleman. Even back then.”

“He’s a good boy,” Lena said, smiling at her son. Talking about the old days had done her some good, Kieran could see. Her amber eyes glowed in a way he hadn’t seen since before the initial attack, and she looked relaxed and easy in Felicity’s company. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said as she stood up. “Sit down, Kieran.”

Kieran had never felt so awkward as he stumbled toward the couch, minutely aware that Felicity was watching him. Her eyelashes were blond, he realized as he took his seat next to her. He’d never noticed that. And her eyebrows were a shade darker than her light blond hair. His face burned as he realized he was staring, and he turned away to pour himself a glass of juice. He took a few sips to calm himself, but he hardly tasted it.

He was embarrassed to have Felicity see the opulent surroundings Mather had provided for him. A large oval porthole behind the couch where she sat showed a view of the galaxy, and the spacious living room was lavishly decorated with paintings and objets d’art. A thick rug in an ancient Persian design lay diagonally on the floor, leading the eye toward the bright kitchen and dining area. His own bedroom was even worse, with satin sheets, down pillows, and an original painting by Kandinsky hanging on the wall. As soon as he’d seen this place, he’d known Mather must be buttering him up for something, and it made him feel dirty to live here. Now, seeing it all through Felicity’s eyes, he felt even worse.

“Pastor Mather is sending me around to Empyrean survivors,” Felicity said, having recognized the question in his eyes. “I’m kind of an ambassador, I guess.”

“Oh,” Kieran said. “Because you’ve been here so long.”

“I’ve ‘successfully assimilated’ is how she put it,” Felicity said, not without bitter irony. She looked him over with frank concern. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Of course. Just fine.”

“Really?” She raised one eyebrow, her eyes moving from his tense mouth to his fidgeting fingers.

He laughed. “Don’t look so skeptical.”

“I won’t, if you’ll tell me the truth.”

He leaned back into the couch cushions. Her candor stripped away his thin layer of pretense, and all the devastation of the past week flooded through him.
I’m not fine. How can I ever be fine again?
He didn’t want to cry in front of her, but he couldn’t speak without crying, so he said nothing.

“I’m sorry, Kieran,” she whispered. “About everything.”

“You lost everything, too,” he managed to say.

“I’ve had more time to come to terms with it,” she said with a sad smile. “I knew when I got off Waverly’s escape shuttle all those months ago that I’d probably never see my family again.”

He studied her. She’d lowered her face so that her golden hair hid her profile, but he could see in her weighted posture that she felt the loss of their home, too. “Why
didn’t
you come back with Waverly?”

She sighed, long and heavy. “It’s not always easy…” She stopped to laugh at herself, shaking her head.

“What?”

“I don’t know how this will sound…”

“Go ahead,” he prodded.

“It’s not always easy…” She paused and raked her hair with her fingers. “Looking the way I do. I stand out. I always have. My hair, my eyes. People comment. And for someone shy like me, who doesn’t like to be noticed…”

Kieran remembered when Felicity was just starting to bloom into womanhood, Captain Jones had walked into their physics class to speak briefly with their teacher, and on his way out his eyes had wandered over Felicity in a way that Kieran hadn’t understood. She had drooped under his leer, hiding behind her hair, back bent to make herself small. In fact, she was sitting that same way now.

“On the Empyrean,” she said, looking at her hands, “I couldn’t always escape the looks, or…” She swallowed as though she felt sick. “Or the hands.”

He wanted to touch her then, a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but nothing could be more inappropriate.

“Here,” she said, straightening up as though throwing off the memories, “people still look, and they comment. But it doesn’t feel so…” She sucked in a breath and finally brought her eyes up to his. He could see her lashes were wet. “Predatory.”

“Felicity…”

“I always wondered why they chose me and not Waverly.”

“You can’t think like that,” he said to her, and this time he did touch her very briefly on the shoulder. “You’re not responsible for someone else being a pig.”

She smiled then. “You’re right. I know it. I just don’t know it all the way yet.”

He watched her, wishing he knew how far it had gone, how much she’d suffered, but she’d said as much as she wanted to and pushing her wouldn’t be fair. So he sat next to her, holding his cup of juice, looking out the porthole at the stars.

“I’m also supposed to extend an invitation,” she said. “The Pastor would like you to come visit her this morning, if you’re up to it.”

“Visit,” he said with an angry laugh.

“She claims it’s your choice,” Felicity said. “She told me your guards would escort you to her office.”

“Now?”

“I think so, yes,” Felicity said. She seemed as puzzled by the invitation as he was.

“Should I go?”

“What’s the saying?” She set her juice down and stood up. Was she leaving already? He stood, too. “Know your enemy.”

He nodded, confused.

“I’d better go,” she said as she backed away from him. “I’ve got lots of stops to make.”

“Okay,” he said, but he didn’t want her to leave. “Will you come back?”

She smiled, gave a single nod. “Sure.”

He walked her to the door and, as he leaned to open it for her, became aware of a light fragrance of crushed rose petals that permeated her hair. He breathed it in as she walked past him and out the door.

The guard standing outside his door jerked his head toward the elevator. “Ready?”

Kieran angrily followed the man to the elevator, staring with loathing at the bald spot on the back of his head. Would he always be surrounded by men with guns?

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Mather said, standing up from her desk chair as he hesitated outside her office.

With a half glance over his shoulder at the guard who brought him, Kieran stepped into the woman’s office and took the chair she offered. The guard stayed just outside the door, his hand on the butt of his gun. Mather smoothed her tunic with hands that fluttered over the fabric as though looking for a safe place to land. They finally settled, fingers woven, on the desk before her.
She looks like a helpless grandmother,
he thought,
but that’s not what she is.

“Tea?” Before he could answer, she poured a steaming cup and handed it to him. “It must be nice to be with your mother again.”

“No,” he said, slicing a hand through the air in front of her nose. “Mom’s acting crazy, and I want to know what’s wrong with her.”

“I was worried about that.” Mather frowned with concern. “She suffered a rapid decompression and had some bleeding in the brain, in her frontal lobes. The doctors warned there might be lasting effects, but since she retained all of her higher functions, we thought she’d come through unscathed.”

Kieran studied her carefully, looking for some chink in her armor, but she met his eyes with what looked like real sympathy. He still might not believe it if he hadn’t seen it happen to her himself, that first day. He and his mother had both been in the shuttle bay when Mather’s crew had rigged the huge air-lock doors to open and decompress that part of the ship. Kieran had barely gotten away with his life and had watched as his mother struggled into a shuttle to escape the vacuum of space.

“So the damage will be permanent?” he asked, fighting tears.

“I’ll send a doctor to take a look at her,” Mather said gently. “Okay?”

Determined not to be grateful, Kieran looked out the porthole so he wouldn’t have to look at her. He could still see the Empyrean from here, though Mather must have turned the New Horizon because his home ship was much farther away now, its giant wound no longer bleeding gas and water vapor. So it was over. The Empyrean had no atmosphere. Those poor goats and sheep and fish. Poor chickens. Poor Arthur. Poor Sarek …