Cassius awoke on Skyship Polaris pressed against a hard, springy mattress on the second floor of the Shangri-La Inn, a garish building resembling a miniature version of the Taj Mahal. Why people needed to pretend they were sleeping in a palace when they were actually staying in a cheap, dirty hotel, he’d never understand. He left the establishment as soon as check-out would allow him.
The sun had barely risen, perched somewhere below the ship as he stepped out onto Polaris’s empty, faux-cobblestone pathways. He stopped to take a glance at the ship’s outer perimeter-an unobstructed view of the stars. Bundles of light hung in the distance from Skyships far away, like tiny galaxies nested in the darkness.
It had been a relatively short trip across the country to Polaris, plagued by a crying baby in the seat directly behind him. Twice he’d been tempted to reassemble the pistol and fire it right into the thing’s head. Cold-hearted, sure, but the thought alone gave him some satisfaction.
He stepped into the city, which seemed to be modeled after some grotesque theme park. An electronic brochure on the shuttle ride over had proudly described the top level as “six square miles of nonstop action!” In reality, Polaris had expanded to its limit. The Shippers were running out of room to add more junk. If it wasn’t for Pearls, the entire ship would have come crashing down years ago. Skyships were designed to run on solar power and biomass. Pearls had allowed them to expand without consequence.
He weaved through Saturn Market, a crowded area of street vendors and performers erected at the northeastern corner of the ship, and the best place to buy illegal Serenity in the Skyship Community. Or so he’d heard. Everyone was still asleep, the stalls and tents boarded up until late morning when the market would be packed once again. He passed by an old man dozing on a stool, a ramshackle sign strung around his neck with an arrow pointing up to the heavens and the words “keep your eyes on the stars” scrolled in messy black ink. A member of Heaven’s Rain, most likely. Even the crazies were sleeping.
Surrounding the market on all sides were bizarre, decadent structures that sprung from the ground like neon monsters. Last night he had stopped to marvel at the flashing glitz of the casinos. The largest one, a fake castle christened “Fortunato,” sat in the very center of the ship. He could see the tips of the flagpoles from where he stood now. The cobblestone pathways below his feet echoed the medieval theme, though it was more like gaudy, electric castle-land than a historically accurate depiction of the Middle Ages.
He exited the market and walked under a wire structure designed to resemble the Eiffel Tower. The town had an odd, ghostly feel at such an early hour. He expected to find fog settling across the streets, but had to remind himself that he was above the clouds now. He wasn’t technically outside, either, though the environment had been created to fool his senses into thinking he was.
It took several minutes to find the nearest entrance to the elevators. He stepped inside the open chamber and descended to a curved corridor at the bottom level, joined by a handful of quiet travelers. He suspected the rush didn’t start until late morning.
He’d be traveling by school-chartered sky taxi to the Academy, set to depart from Docking Bay Seven. If he had taken the right elevator, it’d be just around the corner.
He checked his suit’s inside pocket for the small pouch containing the three pills Madame had given him back at the infirmary. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, he had to consider the possibility that the incident in his dorm room would repeat itself, that coming close to Jesse Fisher would trigger the fires again. It was a possibility he couldn’t risk.
He passed Bay Six and continued until he came upon the next open door. Confirming he was in the right place, he entered and looked around for the school shuttle. Last night, the parking area had been abuzz with activity. It had been almost impossible to move. This morning, the shuttles lay silent in rows before him-a graveyard of commuter vehicles.
Then he spotted it. Alone in the far left-hand corner, framed by a blanket of early morning sky, stood the school taxi. Letters on the side of its long, thin body read SkyWave 557. Smooth and flat, it was little more than a giant white rectangle with landing gear-built for simplicity rather than power. It was probably cramped inside too. He wondered how long the ride would be. And if any babies would be onboard.
He trudged toward it, careful to act like a normal, clueless student. A few kids had already gathered around the front end of the taxi with their parents. A man in a navy, buttoned-up uniform stood next to the entrance with a clipboard.
Cassius felt several pairs of eyes latch onto him as he approached. He had to remind himself that nothing about him stood out. Nobody knew he was from the Surface. Still, he kept his face low as he walked. When he was within striking distance, the driver glanced up from the clipboard.
“Morning,” he yawned. “Identification, please?”
Cassius nearly thrust his hand forward to show the man his Surface ID code, but caught himself and removed the doctored passport instead.
The driver flipped the passport open, comparing the picture on the inside cover to the boy standing before him. After a moment of consideration, he nodded and returned it.
“So you’re Michael, our late registration.” He checked off a box on his clipboard. “No parents, siblings, or relatives with you today?”
“No,” Cassius responded. “No parents.”
“Very well. I’ll take your bag and you can have a seat with the others while we wait for everyone to show up.”
Cassius gripped tightly to the strap of the pouch. “Is it okay if I take it on with me? It’s just a small school bag. There’s some reading I want to go over on the way.”
The driver frowned, then craned his neck to glance behind Cassius’s shoulder. “Fine. It’ll fit below the seat. You’re okay.”
“Thank you.”
Relieved, he stepped to the side of the shuttle and moved toward a red-headed boy. The kid was engrossed in a book held inches in front of his face. Only four students had shown up so far. One girl and three boys, counting Cassius. He kept the bag close to his body as he sat on the ground next to the kid, avoiding eye contact.
The boy shut the book immediately. “I’m Colin.”
Cassius groaned inwardly. He should have brought earplugs.
Colin scooted closer. “You just registered, yeah?”
He nodded, looking at the ground.
“So’d you just find out about the Horizon College recently or something?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“What’s your focus?”
He turned around and met the kid’s eyes for the first time. “My what?”
“You know, what are you into? Philosophy? Literature? Art criticism?”
“Oh,” he started. “Philosophy, I guess.”
“Me too!” Colin grinned. “I hear Horizon’s the best. So as a fellow academic, I’ve gotta ask, who’s your favorite?”
Cassius stared at the kid’s pasty, overeager face, wondering if he should even attempt a response. Philosophy was one of the Wasted Subjects on the Surface. Didn’t do anybody any good.
Colin leaned closer. “Sartre? Descartes? Hypatia?”
He could have been making up words for all Cassius knew, but he realized he had to play along. “Yeah,” he started. “He’s good.”
“Who? Hypatia?”
“Sure.”
“Hypatia’s a woman.” Colin frowned.
Cassius cursed mentally, but didn’t miss a beat, summoning the best fake smile he could. “Of course she is. It’s a joke.”
“Oh.” Colin scratched the back of his head. “Funny.”
Cassius bowed his head, sighing. He had a suspicion the entire flight was going to be “funny.” He hoped he wouldn’t be tempted to use the pistol in his bag before landing.
“Hey,” Colin grinned. “We should be seat partners.”
Cassius sighed. The pistol was sounding pretty good right about now.