Nick James - Skyship Academy

The conditions of the treaty kept Surface folk and Skyshippers apart-a pair of sovereign states separated by the International Skyline. Travel across the border was unlawful without proper clearance, but for as long as Cassius could remember, he’d been part of a rat race between the Surface and the skies. All for Pearls-the ultimate energy source.

The treaty, of course, was nothing more than a piece of paper. Shippers ignored it, sneaking down to harvest Pearls that legally landed in Surface territory, or trading with Fringers. The President of the Unified Party buried his head in the sand, as nameless and anonymous as when he’d first been appointed. If Cassius knew who the guy was-if anybody knew-he’d know who to blame for ignoring Skyship's growing threat. But no one could talk to the President. He spent his days giving orders from secret bunkers stationed around the country. It was up to people like Madame to put words into action.

Cassius rounded the corner, suddenly wishing he’d been less compassionate with the Shippers back in Syracuse. Next time.

Ahead of him lay another lengthy hallway, identical to the one he’d come from. A newcomer might assume the Lodge stretched on forever in this way, but Cassius knew better. After all, he’d spent his whole life here.

It was irregular, him growing up in the Lodge. New trainees didn’t arrive until after their thirteenth birthday, when they were transferred from their schools after scoring high on skill proficiency exams. For many years, Cassius had been the only child under the age of thirteen in the building. Those were the best years, when he garnered Madame’s full attention. Now she was always so busy.

He’d never met his real family. His mother disappeared quickly after childbirth, hooked on black market Serenity. Any other infant would have grown up in the workhouses or been tossed into the Fringes, but Madame had found him first. Though she’d never declared it outright, Cassius had always considered her his adopted mother, even when she didn’t act much like one. Most Surface kids grew up in blissful ignorance, spending weekends with their friends, hooked up in one of Rochester’s twenty-five online pavilions. Cassius had been raised amidst stealth and weaponry-frantic calls to the President in the middle of the night.

A few more steps and the dark mahogany doors of Madame’s office came into view. He hesitated a moment before knocking.

Silence.

He stared at the ornately carved designs on the panels of the door. Within the familiar lightning bolt emblems were cut hundreds of names-high-ranking officials that died when the terrorists blasted the White House into a pile of dust.

“Cassius, come in.” Madame’s soft, hypnotic voice startled him. He looked up to see a round speaker above the door. “You’re always welcome.”

Clutching the burlap pouch closer, he dusted off his sport coat, pulled on the silver door handle, and entered. Madame always knew who stood outside of her study. She’d had the entire Lodge covered in cameras and microphones ages ago-a necessary precaution for the head of the Chronic Energy Crisis Commission.

She sat at her large rosewood desk at the end of the room. Her dark hair was pulled back behind her in a fastidious bun. A pair of spectacles rested on the end of her tiny nose as she set down her personal reading device. The Lodge’s students had a standing bet on her age. Late forties seemed to be the consensus, though her latest Face Freeze kept her ageless.

The curtains behind her were drawn shut in anticipation of the impending darkness. Bookshelves bordered three walls of the small room. Traditional books were outlawed in favor of electronic files, but Cassius knew that Madame had a penchant for antiques.

Madame leaned forward, eyes slit, and stared intently at his face. “And to what do I owe this pleasure, Cassius?” Her calm expression soured as she noticed the state of his clothing. “You’re filthy.”

He allowed himself a smile. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Just… don’t drag it all over the rug. It’s Persian, or so they tell me.”

He stopped in his tracks, momentarily flummoxed. “I’ll go around.”

He tiptoed to the side of the oval rug, careful not to press too hard on the ground with his dusty feet. His Fringe stink choked the lavender scent hanging in the air.

Madame’s gaze followed him the entire time. When he was within reach of the desk, her eyes darted down to the pouch. “Bearing gifts, are we?”

Without an explanation, he gently set the bag on the ground, unbuttoned the flap, and lifted the Pearl out from within. It weighed very little, but instantly illuminated the darkened room with a shimmering green glow, casting hypnotic waves of soft light along the walls.

Consuming no more space than a fortune teller’s crystal ball, it rested comfortably in the palm of his hand. Beneath its surface pulsed a raging, chaotic hurricane of energy-strands of light constantly in motion. He could stare at it for hours if she let him, but he placed it into her eager hands instead.

Her expression remained still as she laid both hands on the Pearl, examining it. But Cassius recognized the familiar glow in her eyes. She hungered for it, just as he did.

After a moment of silent admiration, Madame’s gaze wandered back in his direction. “This is quite a surprise, Cassius. We haven’t authorized you for Pearl exploration. You went outside of the city to get this, didn’t you?”

He clasped his hands together behind his back. There wasn’t any sense in lying. “I got bored. I took a tracer with me and it picked up an energy trail outside of Syracuse.”

“A Fringe Town.” She cradled the Pearl in her arms. “I see.” She sighed. “Now, I know the teachers go on and on about your progress but that doesn’t mean I like the idea of you going out there on your own. It’s dangerous, especially wearing a government uniform. You know how they feel about us on the outside.”

“I was ready.”

“You keep this up and you’re going to make my department look bad. How could we have missed a Pearl falling right under our noses?”

“I… uh… I don’t think it fell in Syracuse,” he responded. “It was transported.”

“Ah.” She leaned back in her chair. “Skyship agents?”

“Not exactly. They were kids.”

“Kids?”

“Teenagers. It was an exchange, I think. With Fringers.”

“Kids.” She shook her head. “Skyship’s audacity never ceases to amaze me. It’s bad enough that we’ve got adults crossing the Skyline without clearance, but children? Can you imagine being asked to do such a thing, Cassius?”

He bristled at her words, being called a child. He wasn’t. Not compared to the morons he trained with.

Madame drummed her fingers on the edge of the desk, then stopped suddenly. “How many?”

“Three.” He met her eyes. “Pathetic, though. I mean, it was embarrassing.”

“I’d expect as much. They undoubtedly haven’t benefited from the intensive field experience that we have. You know, when we first passed the Skyship legislation to ease the population, we never dreamed it would be used against us like this. This is how it starts, Cassius.”

“How what starts?”

“War,” she said. “It’s a trickle, at first. Small, seemingly unconnected moments. You hardly even notice them. Then there’s a warning sign, like the terrorist attacks on New York City at the turn of the century. Ignore that and… well, look where we are now.” She frowned. “I was never a fan of the Hernandez Treaty. We gave them too much power.”

A moment of uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Cassius tried to think of a clever response, a way to engage in intelligent political discourse.

Madame didn’t give him the chance. “I spoke to the President earlier today. Seems Representative Fifty-Four had to jet across the Atlantic for an emergency meeting with the remnants of the Commonwealth. So, the timetable’s made its rounds and it looks like it’s my turn to speak with the Tribunal. I think I’d like you to accompany me.”