Nick James - Skyship Academy

“Please.” Buchanan sneered. “Why would we want to go down to the Surface? You’ve ruined it. As if taking care of your so-called terrorists wasn’t enough.”

Madame grabbed her pen, returning to the stack of papers. “Retaliation was necessary.”

“Killing millions of innocent people? When is that ever necessary?”

She signed and dated the next sheet. “Our country was destroyed. They would have done it again.”

“Oh, here we go.” The lady grabbed the edge of the podium. Her nails matched the red blazer. “Revenge, revenge, revenge. It’s always the same with you people.”

Cassius shifted in his seat. Madame flipped to the next page.

But Buchanan wouldn’t stop. “You know what I think? I think you were all ashamed. All of your anti-terror initiatives weren’t enough. After everything you asked the American people to give up, you didn’t even see it coming. Nobody did. No terrorist organization ever claimed responsibility for the bombings. You and I both know that.”

Madame pushed her chair back, standing up and meeting the Republican head on. “Who else, Representative? What would you have had us do? Wait? Wait until they destroyed the rest of the country? They would have done it again.”

“They didn’t.”

“Because we didn’t give them a chance.”

Buchanan rested her chin in her hand, smiling. “And now look what you’ve done. It’s karma. The planet’s becoming more unlivable by the day. Your Unified Party can hide behind monikers as long as you’d like. But someday soon the people are going to know what you did. And heaven help you then.”

Madame sat down, clearing her throat. “We have Pearls now. Nobody need suffer anymore.”

“There’s no telling how long Pearls will last,” Leone replied. “Your control is weakening.”

Madame returned to the documents. Cassius knew he wasn’t supposed to move on with the plan until halfway through the meeting, but he couldn’t stand to sit and watch the Tribunal antagonize her. So he leaned over and whispered in her ear.

She nodded, glancing back up to the three podiums. “My son needs to step out and use the restroom.”

“Of course.” Chandler motioned to the far door. “There’s one down the staircase in the hallway to your right.”

Cassius stood, the black pouch clutched tightly at his side. He looked down at Madame, knowing he wouldn’t see her again until he’d captured Fisher.

She kept her face forward, ignoring him. “Would it be all right if he stays downstairs for the remainder of the meeting? I don’t wish him to be subjected to any more of this.”

Buchanan chuckled. “You brought him up here.”

“And I regret it.”

“Sure.” Chandler flashed Cassius a patronizing smile. “There’s a waiting room in the same hallway with some old Wi-Fi pads. Make yourself at home.”

Cassius nodded, then looked back to Madame. He waited for a show of support. A smile. Something. Her eyes never left the papers in front of her.

Rather than wait around, he turned and walked away, moving down the aisle until he exited the meeting room. Once down the stairs, he found the restroom and darted inside. Although it was empty, he stepped into the nearest stall and locked the door behind him just in case. Then he quickly unbuttoned his jacket and slipped into the plain suit he’d brought with him.

Stuffing his government clothes into the now-empty bag, he quickly checked the skin graft on his right wrist that covered his hexagonal identification socket. If it peeled off during his stay in Skyship Territory, he’d be instantly revealed as a Surface inhabitant.

Next, he ripped the light blue passport from the lining of the bag and placed it in the breast pocket of his suit. He was now Michael Stevens, born and raised on Skyship Orion. His life could depend on remembering that information.

His heart raced as he realized the full ramifications of what he’d just done. He was no longer an invited guest on Atlas. He was an undercover agent. If he was caught before finding Fisher, he’d be punished like one, thrown into one of the prison ships down south.

Still, what had transpired back in the meeting room made him even more anxious. Madame had often talked about the Tribunal and life after the bombings, but had never offered details outside of what was written in the instructional databases. He’d never seen her so angry before. So angry that she hadn’t even paused to pat his shoulder or smile at him.

Forgetting her, he pushed open the stall door and stepped out to check his new appearance in the mirror. He’d have to be careful. He’d be wearing the same clothing until the Academy’s Visitation Day and needed to stay presentable.

Satisfied, he left the restroom and turned down the hallway, looking for a subtle, unguarded exit. After a few close calls, he stumbled upon an unmarked side door and snuck outside. Once he felt the sunlight on his skin, he knew he’d made it. Next came a long shuttle ride to Skyship Polaris before he could board the school ship to the Academy the following morning. He darted into the nearest alleyway and headed into the city, keeping his face down. He was ready. Madame wouldn’t be disappointed.

“Paulina was totally checking me during Bunker Ball yesterday.” Skandar reclines in a shady spot under a transplanted oak tree at Lookout Park. A vast green field stretches out beneath us, empty except for a team of students playing soccer in the distance. “Couldn’t take her eyes off.”

Lying on my back, I toss an antigravity ball up into the air. It hovers aimlessly for a few seconds before whirling around the nearest branch and dropping back into my hands. “There wasn’t much else to look at. The view from the bench is pretty boring. I should know.”

“Last guy standing.” He whacks my shoulder. “Nothing to be ashamed of there. The fainting? Well, that’s a different story, isn’t it. Now let me see the note you found.”

I set the ball on the grass and pull a crumpled note from my pocket. “It was slipped under my door when I came back from breakfast.” I hand it over. “It’s from Avery.”

Skandar unfolds it. “ Jesse Fisher,” he reads, “ Meet me in the library at six-thirty. I’ll kill you if you don’t come. ”

I quickly grab it back. “Okay, maybe it’s not the most romantic note ever written.”

He grins. “Man, she mass wants you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m not kidding,” he continues. “Tonight you’ve just gotta wait for the right moment and then lay one on her.”

“Yeah.” I chuckle, trying to imagine the alternate reality where that would happen.

“I’m serious. Girls love that kind of stuff. You’ve gotta take control. How long have you guys been all buddy-buddy?”

“About two and a half years.”

“See? You’re practically married.”

“When we met, I was twelve and she was almost fifteen. I don’t think she thinks of me that way.”

He shrugs. “All I’m saying is take a chance. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I sigh, picking up the antigravity ball and tossing it. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to look like an idiot. Again.”

“Trust me,” he replies, “You’ve got nothing to worry about with that girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He scoffs. “She’s as spazzy as you are, mate. Did I tell you I saw her outside the training room last week?”

“So?” I chuck the ball over a branch. “She gets bored. She’s all over the place.”

Skandar reaches over and grabs the ball as it falls, yanking it away. “It was the middle of the night.” He pauses to let his little revelation sink in. “She’s a weirdo. But hey, you’re into weirdos. That’s cool.”