Athel (4 page)

“Right now
I’m the only one who can get you down. And the only way I’ll do that is if you
to tell me the truth.”

“What
truth?” he blabbers.

“What are
you guys hiding in the forest?”

His eyes
bulge. “We’re not the ones hiding stuff.
You
are!”

“Don’t
play your stupid games with me,” I say. “I know you guys almost killed a man.”

Cal makes
a face. “That was an accident. The guy didn’t even complain.”

“How can
you almost kill a man and claim it’s an accident?”

“Oh, come
on. You can’t be
that
clueless. We’re
about to get into a war with the Gaijins.”

“Tahari
has scheduled special training for that.”

“My dad
doesn’t trust Tahari.” He says it and then bites his lips, immediately
regretting it.

“Keep
talking.”

“I’m not
talking to a stupid freckle face.”

I whistle
and Taeh trots to my side. “Fine,” I say, then grab Taeh’s saddle and hop onto
her back. “In that case, have fun.”

“No!
Wait.”

He looks
so small now. I didn’t know I had it in me, but somewhere at the back of my
head I find myself thinking how much fun it would be to actually leave him out
here.

Cal
blinks, his upside-down face red and puffy like a ripe berry. “Get me down!
Fine, I’ll tell you. Yuri has new weapons installed in his hands.
They’re—” He bites his lip again, as though he regrets what he just
disclosed. “They’re cool. But he’s got to practice using them. That’s all I
know.” He wriggles too much and starts spinning again. “Let me down!” he yells.

Taeh feels
the tension and raises her front leg, bobbing her head. I hold her by the mane,
since her reins are temporarily wrapped around Cal’s body.

“That’s
not even a hair of what you know,” I snarl. “Where did you guys get the
technology to install the weapons?”

There’s a
distant rustle, and then voices.

“Dad!” Cal
screams.

As the
voices get closer, I recognize Metal Jaw’s annoying blabber. I bite my lip and
consider my options. I’ve been longing to confront the two brothers for days
now. They’ve hurt my body and my pride. I clench Taeh’s mane, wanting to stay,
but Taeh’s nervousness radiates through her skin to mine. She stomps her feet
and canters from side to side.

Taeh’s scared
.

Fear, the
one thing I’ll never feel.

I should be scared, too
.

Hennessy
will go out of his mind when he learns I’ve hung his son from a tree. I may
have the guts to face him, but the odds are not in my favor. I let go of my
pride and allow Taeh to make the decision for me. As she whisks past Cal, I
grasp one end of the reins and pull. The branch snaps off, and Cal drops and
rolls on the ground until the full length of the reins has unwound. I squeeze
the saddle between my legs and sprint away, leaving the boy moaning at the foot
of the tree.

What a day
, I think, as we dart
through the forest and back to the Tower.
Wait
until Athel hears the full story
.

And then
the thin smile evaporates from my face like rain in the desert. Because deep
inside I know I can’t share any of what I did today with Athel.

Or anyone
else, for that matter.

Chapter Three

Athel

Day Number: 1,583

Event: Janmad celebrations

Number of Mayakes left: 430

Goal for today: An idea so crazy I’m not
even sure I should write it down.

The violin bows rise in the
air—some handheld, others screwed into prosthetic arms. The crowd falls
silent, and for a moment all you can hear is the distant gargle of the river
and the crickets chirping in the grass. Then the music begins, silencing all
other sounds and sending a jolt of energy through the crowd. The fiddlers bend
and sway to the rhythm of the tune while people dance around the bonfire,
clapping their hands in the air.
 

The sky is
pitch black, and only a handful of bright stars twinkle above the yellow haze
of the Gaijins’ factory. It’s the time when the owls come out and the scavenger
droids retreat back into the gorge. The solar panels charging their batteries
are useless without the sun, and, as soon as night falls, their frames fold up
into a cube and the droids become inactive.

The
perfect time for the Mayakes to come out and frolic.

I sit on
the stairs outside the Tower and watch the festivities take place. Three of the
eight babies born last year survived past their first year of age, and today
we’re celebrating Janmad, their first year of life. Lukas and his uncle Akari
are among the fiddlers, swinging their bows and stomping their feet to the
rhythm of the music.

Wes
shuffles away from the crowd and sits next to me, holding a jug of
Beiji—our Mayake brewed malt beer.

Wow
. “Is it such a special day that
even minors are allowed to have Beiji?”

Wes shrugs
and takes a long swig. “Tahari said to go for it. He wants us all to have fun
and get drunk tonight. What’s not to like?” He flashes a disapproving glance at
me. “Why aren’t you having some?”

I shake my
head. “I’m not in the mood for festivities. We were this close to getting the
droid down this morning and failed.”

A full
droid, not just some pieces here and there. The technology we would’ve
harvested from a gigantic machine like that would’ve been unthinkable. We
could’ve made not just weapons, but also restored old prostheses for people in
need and created new ones.

And yet I
seem to be the only one concerned with such matters. I’m appalled that Tahari
hasn’t canceled this childish party. Frankly, I’m wondering if our leader has
any backbone. Only a few weeks ago we learned that one of our best men was in
fact a murderer. We’re traditionally meek and peaceful, and uncovering a
traitor among our own has been a harsh wake-up call. We can’t survive on our
resources alone, and the situation has become so desperate that we’re turning
against one another. Without new technology we’re bound to extinction. We’re
dominated by the Gaijins, the enemies who defeated our ancestors and stole our
resources. In an inspirational speech, Tahari, our Kiva leader, faced the truth
about our fate and declared our only option: go to war with the Gaijins.

If the
Mayake people are to die, they shall die fighting their common enemy, not one
another.

But then,
in an odd twist of events, Tahari took his statement back a week later with the
excuse that we need to have an army to go to war, and we don’t even have
weapons. Which is exactly why the Gaijins can hold us down with a handful of
droids roaming our land.

As a
reaction, our leaders instituted the Kiva challenge—a call for action to
all Mayakes to make the best weapon prototype.

Wes takes
a long pull of his Beiji. “Did your mom come out?”

I shake my
head.

“Neither
did mine. She misses Dad too much and can’t stand seeing people dancing and
singing.”

“Same with
my mom,” I reply. “She can’t get over it.”

“I’m
sorry,” Wes mumbles.

“Yeah. Me
too.”

Wes scans
the happy faces dancing around the crackling fire and chugs more of his beer.
“At least the people who did come seem to be having fun.”

I drum my
fingers on my knees. “Makes me wonder, really. Is anybody taking the challenge
seriously?”

“They
are,” Wes replies, pointing a finger past the bonfire.

I spot a
shiny face scowling at me through the smoke.

“Metal
Jaw?” I say.

Wes nods.
“Yup. Apparently they have something to show tonight. It’ll be the peak of the
festivities.”

“What
festivities?” I gripe. “War is a time of hardship, not lighthearted
frolicking.”

“Isn’t
that the point? To be lighthearted and merry and forget all the hardship?” He
swirls the jug in his hands and looks down, lowering his voice. “It’s not easy,
anyway. To forget, I mean.”

No, it’s
not. We’ve lost our fathers and the wound is still too fresh to heal.

I watch
adults and children ring around the fire and wonder what Metal Jaw has up his
sleeve. People skip, sing, and clap their hands. The tunes get faster, the
rhythm fiercer, the dancers more intoxicated. I frown at such waste of energy.

“All this
is distracting us from our purpose,” I reply. “We need to get fit and build
weapons. We need to check batteries and make sure that all our prostheses are
up and running at their best. It’s what our fathers would’ve done.”

“It’ll get
done, in due time.” He sends me a sideways glance and then nudges me. “Come on.
Cheer up, dude. You’re still beating yourself up over that droid.” He brings
the jug to his lips again, his gaze straying back to the fire and the people
gathered around it. “We were so close! We just got unlucky. Next time we’ll
succeed.”

I sigh.
“The droid had come out of the gorge.
Alone
.
It was our one chance and we blew it.”

The last
tune fades away. The fiddlers set down their instruments amidst cheering and
clapping. Lukas wipes his brow and draws in sharp intakes of air. He gets a
real workout whenever he plays at these events.

The fiddlers
step away from the bonfire, and Tahari comes forward. Everyone falls silent.

Tahari is
a small man with a round face and black hair streaked with white. His wide
forehead is pearled with sweat, his eyes marked by long lines of worry. He
stands in the clearing around the bonfire with a jug of Beiji in his hand and
looks around him, nodding.

“Brothers
and sisters,” he begins, as he always does. “We’re reunited here tonight to
celebrate life.” He points to the three sets of parents whose babies just
turned one. “We’re celebrating at a time of hardship, at a time when we’ve been
called to stand up for the future of our children.”

“Death to
the Gaijins!” somebody screams from the crowd.

“Yeah,”
another chimes in. “When are we going to make them hear our voice?”

Tahari
raises an open palm. “Patience, my friends.” He points to the Tower, our home
for the past forty years. The walls are cracked, the windowpanes missing. One
wing of the sixtieth floor was completely destroyed during the 2189 attack that
killed a third of our people. Many lost limbs, eyes, and dear ones.

“Look at
us,” Tahari says. “Look at where we live, what we do to survive. We’re
vulnerable. The Tower is such an easy target for the Gaijins’ rockets. As of
now, we stand no chance against them.”

The
comment triggers an uproar of protests. Wes and I jump to our feet and join the
chorus of boos. With a sweep of his wide hands, Tahari silences us all. A tall
man steps up from behind him, chin raised and feet spread apart in a military
stance. He opens up his blazer and hooks his thumbs in his belt loops. He
sports state-of-the-art pneumatic leg prostheses that look too cool to be
hidden in long pants. Instead, he wears his pants’ legs tucked inside the
suctioning cups wrapped around his thighs. The outer shells of the prostheses
are transparent, and sleek piezoelectric actuators glisten inside, around the
steel tibias and kneecaps.
 

“That’s
Hennessy,” Wes whispers in my ear.

“I know
who he is,” I reply.
Who doesn’t
?

“I wish
he’d be less snobbish about his robotic legs.”

“Your legs
are way cooler, Wes.”

He nods
but doesn’t look convinced.

Tahari
acknowledges Hennessy’s presence with a nod and then speaks again. “My friends,
you all know the challenges we’re facing and why our Kiva Council has set forth
a quest for the best, strongest, and most reliable weapon we can make.”

“We lack
the resources!” someone shouts.

“That’s
why we’re going to attack the Gaijins,” a woman replies.

“It’s a
catch-22!”

“I’ve got
the weapon that will win this war,” Hennessy shouts, his voice louder than
anyone else’s. The congregation falls silent. For a moment, I can hear the
crickets again, chirping in unison from the solar fields.

“I will
show it to you,” Hennessy continues, drawing a circle in the air with his right
hand. He steps forward and paces around the fire, his features widened and
distorted by the smoke and light from the flames. “I designed the weapon myself
and installed it on my son. This weapon, my friends, will make us powerful. It
will make us invincible.” At Tahari’s nod of approval, Hennessy turns to his
son Yuri and motions for him to come forward.

“I’m
asking everyone to please step back and make room for a quick demonstration.”

“This is
going to be fun,” I mutter to Wes, though deep inside I’m jealous. Yuri is
suddenly getting the spotlight I’ve wanted from the beginning, and the defeat
we suffered this morning as the droid walked away with just a few skewed panels
on its back hurts even more.

We follow
the crowd to the edge of the clearing surrounding the Tower and make room for
Yuri to show us his gig. Wes and I settle on the containment wall a few feet
away from the north entrance, and Lukas joins us a few minutes later.

“I’m dying
to see this!” he says, his face still flushed from fiddling.

“Sure you
are,” I reply, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Maybe you can learn
something, too.”

He hops
onto the wall next to Wes and scowls at me. “You wouldn’t have even thought of
a Trojan horse, let alone made it work.”

I look
away and say nothing because I know he’s right.

Under
Tahari’s directions, the crowd splits into two groups, leaving a corridor
running between the Tower and the riverbank. Yuri and his father stand in the
middle, their legs spread in a military stance. Hennessy points to a big boulder
about twenty feet away and asks people to move away from it.

“Really?”
Wes hisses. “He’s gonna shoot a rock?”

“Not a lot
of stuff can penetrate a rock,” Lukas says.

“Unless
it’s tuft,” I retort.

“You’re
just jealous,” Wes says.

Right, again,
so I keep my mouth shut.

Hennessy
waves his hand in the air and nods to his son. Metal Jaw grins. He balls his
fists and raises his arms, knuckles pointed at the rock. Four flaps lift from
the knuckles of each hand, and four gun muzzles—about five millimeters
each in diameter—emerge from underneath the flaps.

“Go!”
Hennessy shouts.

We all
hold our breaths and stare. Red beams flash out of the muzzles and dive into
the rock, digging a black hole into the boulder. Smoke curls up from the hole
but nothing else seems to be happening. Yuri doesn’t move.

“What was
that supposed to mean?” I say, but Lukas quickly shushes me and points to the
boulder. A tiny red light twinkles in the middle of the black hole. It grows
bigger and bigger and, about ten seconds after Yuri’s fire, the boulder
explodes into a million pieces. We all duck. Some run, others scream. When we
raise our heads again, the boulder is gone. Like,
completely
gone, leaving only a ring of shards scattered around a
smoking pit.

People
clap their hands and voice their amazement. Hennessy and Yuri exchange a high
five.

I hate
that kid. What he did to my sister is heinous. And now he’s got the most
powerful weapon any Mayake has ever possessed. Somehow the idea doesn’t thrill
me at all.

“Why the
long delay?” Akari, Lukas’s uncle, asks. He’s standing at the end of the wall
we’ve been sitting on and looks straight into Hennessy’s eyes. “You showed us
power, yes. But those few seconds of delay can be deadly in war. It takes two
seconds for a droid to squash you to death.”

I gulp and
rub my sore ribs, where the droid squeezed me only hours ago.

Hennessy
smiles his broad and confident smile. His robotic legs shine and squeak ever so
lightly as he steps forward to answer Akari’s question.

“We’re
working on that,” he replies. “Our combined laser beam shooter is still a
prototype, as you can see. But it’s mind-blowingly powerful—you can’t
deny that. It can take a whole army of droids down in a matter of minutes. If
we can fit a hundred men with this weapon and post them in strategic places
over the mesa, the whole fleet of sniper droids will be wiped out in one day.”