As our shuttle bursts into Earth’s stratosphere, I dream about Pearls. I dream there’s this giant robed guy lounging around on an asteroid somewhere chucking them down at me, one after another. I stand on the Surface, watching them burn through my body as they hit, leaving swiss-cheese holes until I’m hung together by nothing more than gooey threads.
“We’ve hit 30,000 feet.” Eva’s call knocks me out of my frustratingly short nap. I pry my eyes open and look out the side window. The vast outline of Skyship Polaris blots out most of the evening sky, just out of reach-a floating, metallic castle. A string of drool hangs from the side of my mouth. Charming.
We passed the Skyline hours ago, back on the East Coast. Ever since then I’ve been able to relax a little and get some shuteye. I’ve heard stories about Shippers getting shot for landing on the Surface without credentials. We were lucky not to run into border patrol, though I guess it’s kind of hard to police every square inch of the Skyline.
Skyship Academy, a dinky, self-contained ship compared to some of the bigger models, hovers above the California-Oregon border, give or take a few miles. Puttering back all the way from New York, we’ve been cooped up in this shuttle for going on two hours. Stir crazy. I told Mr. Wilson that it was a mass stupid idea sending us all the way out to the East Coast, but he kept saying that the “opportunity was too good to pass up” (a.k.a., “we’re gonna give you losers the safest possible city with the safest possible Pearl Traders so you don’t get yourselves killed”).
Yeah. That went well.
Eva flips a switch on the ceiling. “I’m stabilizing and setting the auto-pilot.”
“Go for it,” Skandar answers half-heartedly. Eva’s always been one for protocol, though she knows she doesn’t need our advice. She’s the best pilot in Year Nine. I don’t even have my learner wings yet.
Skandar unfastens his belt and moves across the shuttle, sitting backward on the seat nearest to me, face pressed against the window. “Polaris.” He grins. “I heard they’ve got this hotel… and there are these women, right? You walk in and they’ll do-”
“Please.” Eva groans. “Please stop.”
He makes a face out the window, though it’s meant for her.
My eyes follow the enormous ship as we pass by. The neon towers stretching up from the top level create an unnatural glow in the atmosphere. The hull is dark and wide-wedge-shaped, with space for thousands of tiny little rooms and corridors. The more money you’ve got, the higher you get to live. Nobody wants to try and sleep next to the thrusters on the bottom level. That’s why it’s reserved for docking bays. But Polaris isn’t much of a “settling down” ship, anyway. Not if you want peace and quiet. “We flew over there a couple years ago, right? For the opera?”
Skandar rolls his eyes. “Ugh. The most boring night of my life. I’m telling you, mate. Someday we need to highjack a shuttle and sneak onto Polaris. Head up to the casinos. That’s where the real action is.”
Somehow I can’t imagine that happening. After today’s little adventure, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Wilson kept us locked up in the Academy until we all turned eighteen.
Skandar’s com-pad flashes at his side. He detaches it from his belt, reading the line of text on the shiny black surface. Rolling his eyes, he tosses it to me. “Romeo’s been buzzed.”
I fumble with the device, glancing down at the words on the screen. Jesse, why are you ignoring me? Are you all right? – Avery
Eva shifts in her seat, peering at the rearview mirror. “Is it Avery again?”
Skandar nods. “You mean Fisher’s girlfriend?”
I flip down the keypad, typing. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Not if you keep denying it,” Skandar replies.
“I don’t care who she is,” Eva huffs. “Academy CPs are not meant for socializing. How she’s managed to hack her way into our channel I’ll never know.”
“She’s good at that kind of stuff,” I mutter, pressing the send button. Not ignoring you. Lost my CP, but I’m ok. – Jesse
Seconds later, another message appears on the screen. Just wanted to congratulate you on your first mission. Dinner tonight? – Avery
My heart swells as I reread the words. With all the negativity floating around this afternoon, the prospect of dinner with Avery Wicksen is more than enough reward for me. Ever since she was transferred from the Academy on Skyship Mira three years ago, she’s been the calm oasis after increasingly embarrassing mishaps-the only one I can really talk to. I quickly type a nonchalant “yeah” into the com-pad and send it.
Eva frowns. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t tell Mr. Wilson about you two abusing the CPs.”
I toss it back to Skandar. “Um… your kind and generous nature?”
She snorts with laughter.
“Come on, Eva.” Skandar attaches the com-pad to his belt. “Have a heart. Fisher’s gotta work on his game.” He slaps my shoulder. “So what’d you tell her?” He purses his lips, adopting a ridiculous deep voice. “ Hey, baby, come to my room so we can get it on.”
Eva rolls her eyes. “Real subtle, Harris.”
I shrug. “I pretty much just said ‘yeah.’”
He rolls his eyes, leaning back. “Well, that’s lame.”
Our shuttle continues to zip along the thin layer of cirrus clouds beneath us. Soon Polaris is nothing more than a dot in the distance. Creeping up next on the radar is the Horizon College of Liberal Arts. We call it Skyship Academy.
And we don’t study liberal arts. The school’s a front to keep the Unified Party off our backs. Under the Hernandez Treaty, Surface representatives can inspect any part of the Skyship Community with a warrant and “documented suspicion of duplicitous activity,” which can basically be turned around to mean just about anything. Places like hospitals, churches, and schools are exempt. Safe havens. So in all its infinite wisdom, the Tribunal runs all its secret Pearl-snatching operations through a handful of “schools.” Lucky us.
We file activity reports, but nobody in the Skyship Community knows what we’re really getting up to: secret reconnaissance missions, Fringe-trading, anything that helps us grab Pearls before the Unified Party finds them. Read the e-feed and you’d think the Skyships are stable, with enough Pearl Power to last as long as we need. The truth is, we’re one dry year away from having to sacrifice a good chunk of our ships. But the Tribunal would never admit it to the community.
Eva unfastens her belt and joins us in the passenger cabin. “Visitation Day on Friday.”
Skandar drags his hand across his face. “I hate wearing suits.”
“It’s only for a few hours. We have to look like any other school and that includes giving tours. Right, Jesse?”
“I’m with Skandar on this one.”
Every semester on Visitation Day, hopeful students follow our teachers around all wide-eyed and grinning, mass eager to learn about philosophy and literature and heaps of other stuff that we don’t actually teach. None of them ever make it through our “selective” admissions department. Skyship Academy’s only new recruits are agents’ kids or transfers from other training facilities. Count me among the former, though I can’t really remember my parents. They died when I was two, part of a government sting operation. In other words, they died heroes. Kinda sets expectations for their only kid.
“Well,” Eva continues, “I don’t think it hurts for us to remind ourselves that we’re going to be agents soon. It’s not bad to look professional every once in a while.”
Skandar grimaces. “What, are you like forty years old?”
“I’m just saying… a little bit of maturity goes a long way.”
I frown. “Tell that to Mr. Wilson when he flunks me out of the program.”
She leans forward and lays her hand on my knee. It’s mildly creepy. “That’s not going to happen, Jesse. You’ve got three and a half more years. The only way to go is up.”
Skandar chuckles. Eva shoots him a look that silences him instantly. “ You on the other hand… everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. Eva’s face bristles. I can tell she’s about to slap him so I half-heartedly point out the window. “Looks like we’re home.”
After one last glare in Skandar’s direction, she stomps back to the cockpit and flips off the autopilot.
The Academy hangs in the sky before us, a dark gray ornament against a backdrop of fuchsia sunset. It’s shaped like the world’s biggest spinning top, widest at its peak and curving down all the way to the jagged spire at the bottom that sweeps through the wispy clouds below like a needle through dry ice. Unlike a top, we don’t spin. Skyships rarely change coordinates at all, unless there’s a security breach.
We live on one of the smaller models, less an airborne city than a massive, flying house. Extending from the top center is the central tower. Inside, Captain Alkine-our number-one-cross-him-you-die commander-makes all the important calls. A transparent fiberglass dome cuts through the tower halfway, arching down to surround Lookout Park, a green oasis in the middle of the sky. Not only does it grow most of our food, but it’s the place to be after lessons. There’s no such thing as a cloudy day at Lookout. They’re all rushing by below our feet.
Six levels of living quarters, training classrooms, and research labs fill the rest of the ship, narrowing as they near the bottom where the docking bays lie open in anticipation of our shuttle.
We pull closer to the Academy. Dark, weathered siding fills the air outside my window. A pink sunset streams in behind us, hitting Eva right in the face. In an hour it’ll be completely dark. The canteen’s probably closed except for a few leftovers. There goes dinner.
I run my fingers through my dusty hair, sitting up and stretching as the shuttle veers into docking bay number three. The floor vibrates as the landing gear retracts. The cabin lights flicker off, replaced by the soft glow from inside the bay.
Eva shuts off the power as soon as we touch down. With a quick hiss of air, the door rises open and the steps collapse. Skandar and Eva head out first. I stand up. My head spins.
I grab the back of my seat to avoid falling over, but the dizziness gets mass worse. My pulse quickens until each thump feels like it’s gonna send my heart flying out of my chest. I let go of the chair and stretch my arms, closing my eyes and breathing deep. I just need a drink of water, that’s all. I mean, after what happened today, it’s a wonder I’m still alive.
Carefully, I step out onto the metallic floor panels of the docking bay. Aside from a couple of mechanics working on a decommissioned shuttle in the far corner, the place is deserted. The last sun rays, now a vivid orange, flow up into the mouth of the bay behind us and cast our shadows on the far wall. We look huge in shadow form. In reality I don’t think we’re so impressive.
I take a deep breath and follow my teammates past the chemical scanners to the ground level of the Academy. The wide windows of the circular hallway heat the incoming sun until it feels like we’re back on the Surface. We intersect the corridor and head for the central elevator shaft-the Academy’s spinal cord.
Skandar thumps his fist against the white walls as we march down an unremarkable hallway. With nearly a thousand of us onboard, the upper levels are packed this time of night. It’s dead silent down here.
My heart beats twice for every step. I stop and close my eyes, hoping that when I open them the hallway will stop spinning. It doesn’t.
We turn the corner into a second corridor. My strides shorten, feet dragging.
Skandar pauses and leans against the wall. “You okay, mate?”
I hold up a hand. The other one’s clutching my chest, trying to get my heart to slow down. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”
Eva turns, hands on hips. “Probably the heat. You rehydrated on the shuttle ride, didn’t you?”
I nod, taking a deep breath and straightening my back. “I’ll be okay.”
She sighs, but doesn’t press the issue.
A few more moments and we’re at the elevators. Skandar presses the button and stares at me while we wait for the doors to open. I don’t look back at him. By the time we’re crammed inside, my heart slows to a normal pace again.
I watch the screen beside the doors as we ascend to Level Five.
Meeting rooms. Mr. Wilson.
As head teacher of Year Nine, it’s Wilson’s responsibility to put us on track for graduation and to train us in the grand arts of Surface survival and Pearl Retrieval. He doesn’t like me. He’s never liked me. Any crumb of affection left between us oughta be wiped out tonight.
The elevator doors spread open. My back-to-normal heart lumps in my throat. We slump toward the meeting room with all the excitement of a funeral procession. When we finally take our seats at the crescent-shaped table inside, I’m about to pass out from all the stress. An old wooden desk in front lies empty for now, waiting for Mr. Wilson.
There’s no decoration, no windows, nothing but a ripped projector screen hanging from the ceiling and a barren table pushed into the corner. A weeping plant clings to life against the opposite wall. It probably hasn’t been watered in weeks. Fluorescent light blares down from a tube directly above us. Hell’s waiting room.
I take a sip of water from a glass in front of me. We sit in silence. Bad kids in detention. Nobody knows what to expect. Mr. Wilson’s not a yeller, but there’s a first time for everything.
The door knob twists and Mr. Wilson strolls in, wearing a drab, unbuttoned sport coat and jeans. Focus real hard and the hint of a bald spot creeps up from under his combed-over hair. I like to see how fast I can find it. Today it takes me longer than usual. Go Mr. Wilson.
He’s got a bundle of books tucked under his arm that he sets on the desk before treating us to a mass dorky, come-on-impress-me smile.
“Well,” he begins. “It’s reassuring to see you all back unscathed. I hope your shuttle trip was comfortable. There’s supposed to be a storm passing through below us tonight.”
Nobody responds. We can barely meet his eyes.
He picks up on this immediately, crossing his arms and leaning against the desk. His lips shut and settle into a frown. The buzzing of the overhead lights is deafening.
He claps his hands together. I nearly jump out of my seat. “I guess we’ll get right to it, then. Where’s the Pearl?”
Crickets.
“The Pearl,” he repeats, like we didn’t understand the first time. “Come on, kids.”
I raise my head and meet his eyes. “We… um… we kind of don’t have it.”
His expression falls blank. “You kind of don’t have it, or you don’t have it?”
“We don’t have it,” I mumble. Might as well rip off the bandage all at once.
He drags his hand across his face, rubbing away the last remnants of anticipation. “I need to sit down.” He crawls behind the desk, grunting and sighing with dissatisfaction. “I told Alkine this was a bad idea,” he mutters. “What happened?”
“We were ambushed,” Eva replies. “Just after unloading the last of the rations.”
I wince. Technically, Skandar and I were ambushed, and we weren’t anywhere near the rations.
Mr. Wilson’s face drains of color. “Ambushed? Syracuse is deserted. We made sure there weren’t any hostiles before sending you down.”
Eva frowns. “He was one of Madame’s. No older than us, sir.”
Wilson leans forward. “By himself?”
I glance over at Eva. It would be so easy to concoct a dramatic story with government blockades and cruisers and tanks. It’d be less embarrassing, too. Less consequence. Less lectures. But by the time I open my mouth, it’s already too late.
“Yes, sir,” she says. “By himself.”
Mr. Wilson shakes his head. “So let me get this straight. Some fifteen-year-old punk from Madame’s crew shows up in the middle of the Fringes and manages to single-handedly take on three of my trainees and steal our Pearl?”
“It was Fisher’s fault!” Skandar points at me.
“Hey!” I glare back. “It’s not like you weren’t tied up on the ground!”
“I had it in my hands,” Eva interrupts, “but Jesse got himself in trouble with some of the locals and I had to help him. The guy snuck up on us. I did everything I could, sir. It wouldn’t have happened at all if Fisher and Harris hadn’t been screwing around. I would recommend-”
Wilson holds up his hand to stop her. “All right.” He sighs. “Enough. I got it. You’ve had a very long day. As much as I’d like to, this isn’t the time to run through all of the mistakes that could have been prevented. Eva, Skandar, head over to the canteen and get something to eat. We’ll talk about this in detail tomorrow.”
I glance around the room. “What about me?”
“ You stay here.” His eyes pin me to my seat. “Alkine wants to talk to you.”
Skandar flashes me a sympathetic look, but wastes no time slipping out the door. Eva follows right behind.
“I think a round of Bunker Ball is in order tomorrow, so get some sleep!” Wilson calls after them as the door shuts. I sink down into my seat, barely able to make eye contact.
A silence falls over the meeting room. My heart does somersaults. Sweat drips down the sides of my torso. Usually when I’m forced into a meeting with Captain Alkine I layer on a gallon of deodorant beforehand. I may smell like a flowery garden, but at least he doesn’t see what a nervous wreck I am.
“Fisher, Fisher, Fisher.” Mr. Wilson shakes his head. “What are we going to do with you?”
The scary thing is, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell they’re planning to do with me. Alkine’s a busy guy. He doesn’t have time for unscheduled meetings.
I contemplate bolting for the door and locking myself in my bedroom, but before I know it, Captain Alkine enters the room. His heavy combat boots clomp on the floor as he walks to the desk. He’s gotta be a full foot taller than me at least. Impossibly tall. His skin is weathered from years of living on the Surface. A scar runs down his left cheek-a battle wound from his days as a soldier. His dark hair is all but gray now, turned by years of overseeing a Skyship full of children.
Mr. Wilson stands, whispers something in Alkine’s ear, and leaves. Alkine moves behind the desk and stares off into the corner of the room for a moment. Then his eyes fall squarely on me.
“Jesse Fisher.”
I bristle at the sound of his deep voice. I try to look anywhere but at his face. It’s not that he’s a bad guy. It’s just that, well, he scares me. And not knowing why he’s here? That’s even scarier.
His words sit in the air, detached. I can’t tell if they were supposed to be a statement or a question, so I keep my mouth shut.
He sighs. “For god’s sake, straighten up in your chair. You look like you’re about to drip onto the floor.”
Amazing. He’s managed to put into words exactly how I feel inside.
“So you lost the Pearl.” He clasps his hands in front of him. “Big deal. It’s happened before, it’ll happen again. It’s only training.”
My shoulders relax. Maybe I’ll get away with this after all.
He clears his throat. “Do you want to be an agent, Jesse?”
Crap. I give my best fake nod, wondering if he can see through it.
“Then you’ve got to focus. And work hard.” He pauses. “What’s on your face?”
I touch my cheek, still tender and warm from the brick wall. “It’s
… uh… a burn.”
“Clumsy,” he replies, shaking his head. “I regret that I haven’t been able to play a more active role in your life, Fisher.” He scoots closer to the desk. A shiver runs down my neck at the thought of Captain Alkine wanting any part of my life, or even thinking about me at all with the hoards of trainees running around up here.
He sighs. “Your parents would have wished for you to realize your full potential, you know. I’m concerned that without a steady guide things are becoming… stagnant.”
I look down at the table at the mention of my parents. I can count on one hand the kids at the Academy without family. No need for Alkine to remind me.
“I never thought I’d be taking care of children up here,” he continues, “but let’s face it, children are our greatest hope.”
I nod, unwilling to make eye contact.
“The Tribunal’s been on my back about getting all of our medical reports in order. There are some additional tests I’ve arranged for you at the beginning of next week, things you’ve missed.”
I groan inwardly. It’s been the same since I was a kid. The Academy loves its checkups. Something about the Tribunal wanting to make sure trainees are in tip-top shape, they say. All I know is that I hate needles, especially when they’re poking into me.
He pauses, waiting for me to say something. I keep my eyes on the table.
“Aside from losing the Pearl, how did it go today? Did it feel different being on the Surface?”
My mind flashes back to the rooftop. Falling off. Living.
“Hotter,” I reply.
He smiles. “Yes, yes of course. That certainly can’t be helped with the Unified Party in charge.” He laughs, though it’s more like a grunt. “ Unified. What a joke. Unified in vengeance, maybe. It’s ironic, you know? In fighting their so-called terrorists they’ve only become more like them. Secretive, scared-a silent dictatorship. They’re like a bug turned over on its back, wiggling its little legs, lashing out at everything else in hopes of flipping back around.” He chuckles. “If the Tribunal gave me the go-ahead I’d be down there right now, with a big boot to squash them before they turn themselves over. Sometimes I feel ridiculous up here, running this school. I’m not a teacher. I’m a soldier.”
I want to point out to him that an illegal training base isn’t technically a “school,” but I keep it to myself.
“Did I ever tell you I served in Operation Blackout?”
“Several times, sir.” In fact, during school lectures he never shuts up about it. The defining moment that turned the tides of the Chinese-American War, he says.
Alkine nods, crossing his arms. “Best days of my life. I guess some of us are just born for battle.”
I glance at the door. Some of us were born to get out of this room.
“We came so close to a nuclear war,” he continues. “Thirteen years later… we thought it was all over and bam!” He pounds his fist on the desk. I jump in my seat. “Guess that’s what you get for turning a blind eye. Never look away, Fisher. Never.”
Taking the cue, I meet his eyes for a moment and keep my attention glued to his face. Well, more like his shoulder. The face is too threatening.
He laughs. “I remember this one night on the Chinese border, decades before we nuked them. There was this kid, couple of years younger than me at the time. Come to think of it, you remind me of him. Not a soldier in the strictest sense, but the potential was there.
“Anyway,” he continues, “the two of us were on a rendezvous assignment… guy from inside the country was meeting us with schematics, stuff we’d need to get in and out of their facility alive. It was a simple mission, just waiting around to grab a bundle of papers. But as you discovered today, simple missions are never as easy as they sound. Turns out someone tipped off the border patrol. We were outnumbered. But worst of all, we were unprepared.”
My eyes stray back to the table. “What happened to your friend?”
He frowns. “Died. Round of bullets right through his chest. Wasn’t quick enough.”
I fidget in my seat. And this guy reminds Alkine of me? “Sir, do you… uh… want something?”
He blinks twice. “Am I boring you, Fisher?”
“No, sir,” I mutter.
“Well, you’re getting to that age where decisions must be made. I don’t want you to end up with a round of bullets through your chest. Your peers and teachers are all well and good, but I want you to feel free to come to me if anything’s wrong.”
“What would be wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he says. “I just… well, I know how it can be, growing up with the pressure you kids experience. It’s a rotten card you’ve been dealt some days, being born into the program. I also know that Mr. Wilson isn’t particularly impressed by the limited progress you’re making. Frankly, neither am I. It’s important that you have a strong male influence in your life. I’m trying… that is, I would like to be that person.”
I look up. A lopsided, uncomfortable smile sits on his face. It’s worse than his frown.
This is majorly screwed up. Alkine doesn’t interact with students. He leaves that for the teachers. He said it himself. He’s a soldier. “Does that mean that we’d have to, like, spend time together?”
He sighs. “Jesse, what I’m trying to say is: if you have a problem, you come to me. Should I make that an order?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay.” He slaps the top of the desk. “Then go join your friends. Get something to eat.”
Without waiting for him to change his mind, I jump out of my seat and head for the door. He doesn’t call after me, thank god. Forcing me to listen to old war stories is punishment enough.
I head out into the hallway, traveling double speed. Trying-to-be-nice Captain Alkine is ten times scarier than normal Captain Alkine and the fact that I’m on his radar at all is yet another thing to add to my list of reasons why I’m getting out of here as soon as I turn eighteen.