He stored the luggage away and offered her a hand up, then leaped into the pilot’s seat, anxious to touch the controls. His palms slid over the steering device, and he breathed in the scent of the cockpit. Imminent fl ight.He had not realized how much he had missed it.
One more breath, then he strapped himself in, made a quick check to ensure she was secure, and hit the controls. A dozen panels lit up, and a gentle hum thrummed in the engine. He switched on the radio. “Madousin requesting clearance for takeoff.”
“Clearance granted.”
His hand clutched the throttle, and swish! Gold Dust shot into a near vertical climb. The ship throbbed in the turbulence, then ripped through the atmosphere. A shrill whistle exited Dane’s teeth.
And he was once again in open space. How he had missed this.
Aerin said nothing for several minutes. Perhaps she was even more moved than he was. He had not thought about what it must have been like for her, all these months on planet after growing up in the freedom of space.
“How long have you been flying?” she finally asked.
“Since I was twelve.” He tossed off the fact, certain she would not care that he had first worked the steering when he was four.
“And who taught you to fly?”
“Pete. He’s a mechanic back on base. I’ve known him forever.”
“But didn’t your father break all kinds of flight records?” Her voice trailed off.
Why didn’t he teach you? That was her real question. Dane felt his jaw clench, and instinctively he gave the engine more power. The warning signal started to buzz. Stupid autopilot. He switched it off, using the disruption as an excuse not to answer her question. The ship launched into a higher speed, shook for a couple of moments, then smoothed out.
Tension hung in the cockpit. “I can see your instructor failed to impress you with the importance of speed limits.” Aerin’s voice trembled.
“Oh, well, Pete isn’t very impressive.” Dane glanced at her, noted the dearth of color in her face, and slowly dialed back the power. “Tell me what you know about Chivalry,” he said, trying to distract her from his error in judgment.
She gave a weak groan. “I thought I was done spitting out facts after term exams.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t done your research,” he teased.
She flipped down the star visor, a hint of color returning to her face. “It’s a green planet. The vegetation is all natural, unlike most of Academia.”
“So what do Academia and Chivalry have in common?”
“They’re both circle-of-life planets.”
“Which means?”
“The air is breathable.” Her normal skin tone had returned. “You know, Dane, I think you’re taking this study partner thing too seriously.”
He pushed the visor back up. “And why are the circle-of-life planets important?”
“They’re ten central planets with natural conditions to support life. The Alliance was built around them.”
“Not bad.” He clicked his tongue on his front teeth. “And Chivalry’s main role in the Alliance is . . . ?”
“It’s the central base for the military.” She reached for the visor again, then turned on him when his hand stopped her. “Enough, Dane. I know what the books say. Tell me what your home is really like.”
“It’s a military base, Aerin”—he spat the words—“not a home.”
She bit her lip.
And he wished he had not snapped. He should not allow his own mood to spoil her expectations. There was no reason she could not enjoy her holiday. Or the entire trip, for that matter. If he shared with her, well, if he shared with her what there was on Chivalry to love.
“Know what,” he said, his voice softening as a familiar green sphere appeared in the view screen. “I won’t tell you about Chivalry; I’ll show her to you.”
Beautiful, Aerin thought as the green sphere grew larger and larger, closer and closer.
She had read that the military base with its surrounding city took up only a fraction of the planet’s surface, the rest being preserved as a wilderness area, but coming from an overcrowded planet like Vizhan, it had been hard for her to believe such a thing.
The reality hit her, though, as Gold Dust ripped through the atmosphere, and the spaceship swept into an arc over a vast tangle of leaves, needles, and branches. Shades of green, both deep and light, flickered below, broken here and there by barren branches and the sparkle of silver. The spaceship slowed, and she could see that the silver was a natural shade of tree bark, glowing against the darker browns and reds that filled the inner hue of the forest.
“Almost worth it,” she heard Dane whisper under his breath. Then he raised his voice. “Well, what do you think? Better than a textbook?”
She grappled for an answer and settled for the truth. “Beyond words.”
Gold Dust skimmed low above the treetops, curving south while Aerin gazed out the window. A deep blue lake shimmered beneath her, the waters stretching in a perfect crescent. Even the forest began to sparkle as they flew over a section where white crystals coated the branches.
Frost, she realized. They had frost here . . . and snow—snow and mountains and forests and lakes. How could Dane have left it? How could he stand to? To exchange this beauty for the stifling Wall of Academy 7. Even space itself lost power in the face of this scenery. The ship was climbing now, scaling the surface of a stunning white slope.
“You ready for this?” Dane asked, fiddling with the controls.
“For what?” Goose bumps spiked her flesh.
“This is Chivalry Ridge. The falls are on the other side.”
Falls?
“Hold on.”
They were still climbing.
And then they weren’t. The land dropped out beneath them, and the plane dropped with it over a thousand feet. Dane flipped Gold Dust, and they were sailing down at a steep angle, the jagged cliff flying past. Aerin dug her hands into her armrests and opened her mouth in a silent scream. I’m going to die!
But then she saw the first waterfall, a thin frozen stream of icy blue threading its way down the cliff side, then another one, and another as the plane eased into a curve—a hundred frozen waterfalls sparkling, tracing, and spreading their way across the vertical surface. The sheer beauty broke through her panic. She loosened the mortal grip of her hands.
Dane glanced her way, cracking another smile. “I said to hold on.”
And the plane dropped again, this time a sheer fall of about a hundred feet, then plunged forward under the most spectacular vision she had ever seen, the cliff on one side, a frozen arch of ice on the other, a crystal tunnel. Ten feet, twenty. Fifty. Patches of light and dark sprinted over the ship, and she went from blindness to sight a million times in the seconds it took to reach the other side.
Then Gold Dust soared away from the cliff’s edge before gently curling around and gliding along the frozen falls she had just flown beneath. The exterior glowed, a massive, natural sculpture. Her breath rose and fell with the sparkling light, and she could not speak. What was there to say?
The ship wove its way back and forth, gliding down to a frozen stream deep at the base of the cliff. Then after easing Gold Dust onto a small circular landing pad, Dane turned off the power. For minutes, maybe hours, they sat there, Aerin’s eyes holding tight to the view.
Her heart thundered in her chest. Could anyone witness such a sight and not have it change them? And what did it tell her about the young man at her side, that he could come from such a place and had chosen to share it with her?
A gush of cold air woke her to the fact that Dane had climbed out of the ship. “Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to exit the plane and follow him toward a small, octagonal building at the edge of the landing pad.
She opened her own door and set a tentative foot down onto the layer of snow. To her surprise, the whiteness broke away beneath her boot like nothing. Cold sliced through her leather jacket as though it wer
e made of cotton. She brought down her other foot and hurried after Dane, less concerned about where he was taking her than escaping the chill.
CHIVALRY VISITOR CENTER read the black lettering on the building’s glass doorway, and warm air embraced her as she stepped inside. A man in a starched collar came forward as if to greet them, but Dane waved him away, steering her instead toward a drink stand. “Hot chocolate,” he told the young man behind the counter, “one plain. One . . .” he glanced at Aerin.
“With caramel,” she answered.
The server winked at her and hurried to comply. “Sweet tooth?” he teased.
She blushed but eagerly accepted the warm mug into her hands. The chocolate slid down her throat in rich ecstasy, and for a moment she was a child again, tasting her father’s love.
Dane waited only long enough for her to take that single sip before guiding her through a gap between a pair of painted screens.
She stepped through the space. And froze.
For the eight walls and ceiling of the building were nowhere to be seen. Instead the endless cliff of Chivalry Ridge rose up before them, not as it had moments before, but as it might have done in the springtime. Streams poured in crystal trails down the rock surface; thick moss clung in patches beneath emerald leaves; and the sound of rushing water filled the space, interspersed by the powerful call of a soaring hawk.
The hawk glided down, its wingtips almost grazing Aerin’s hair. She reached up a hand toward it, and the bird circled.
Then swept right through her fingers.
She withdrew, flashing her hand front to back for inspection.
Dane laughed. “It’s a simulation, created by computer.” He stepped forward, dipped his hand into the water at the cliff’s base, and returned with a dry palm. “It has sound and three-dimensional form, but no—”
“Substance.” She supplied the answer, looking once again at her own hand.
“Exactly. No warmth, no wind, no cold.”
She took another sip of her chocolate. “So, it’s like a three-dimensional film?”
“Not quite.” Dane led her to the edge of the central falls, where shards of surreal spray sprinkled over her face and hands. “A simulator can answer questions and re-create the past without having been there.”
“You mean I could ask it how the falls were first made, and it could show me?”
“Yes.”
“That’s—”
“Genius,” a tall woman with a forest green jacket stepped forward. The nametag designating her as a natural history guide peaked out beneath her flat lapel. “Twenty years ago, the Council considered settling the rest of Chivalry, but a young lady brought them here to see her new invention. She convinced them to protect the images they saw in the simulator. Since then, over three hundred thousand new places have been added to the list of protected sites all over the Alliance.”
Aerin cocked her head. “If a simulator can answer questions and reproduce the past, why don’t we have one at school?”
“It can’t be re-created.” Both Dane and the guide spoke at once.
The woman turned to face him for the first time, then stopped, staring.
Aerin sighed. How could Dane put up with this everywhere? “What do you mean it can’t be re-created?” she urged.
The guide failed to answer, but Dane replied, “The plans could not be found . . . after the designer’s death.”
“But it’s a computer,” said Aerin. “Aren’t the plans stored in the database?”
Again it was Dane who answered. “Maybe, but no one has managed to retrieve them.”
“Can I see the control panel?” The question came out of her mouth without conscious thought. Don’t be a fool. This woman would never let you—
But the guide was still watching Dane, as if the decision were up to him.
His chin dipped slightly.
“This way, miss,” the woman spoke at last.
Aerin did not argue. She followed the guide and Dane back toward the painted screens, then under a black curtain and into a small alcove where, to Aerin’s surprise, the woman backed away and dropped the curtain, leaving Dane and Aerin alone with the simulator.
“Go ahead,” he said. “See if you can enter the database.”
She wrinkled her forehead, wanting to ask what was going on. But not quite willing to risk this chance. Her hands sprang to the keyboard, typed in the Allied entry code, and watched. The machine allowed her in, not even asking for a password, but she soon saw that there was no need for such a tactic.
She had reached only a superficial layer of control. From this section of the computer, she could view images, ask questions, or change settings. But there her ability ended. Every time she tried to probe deeper, a dark gold color flashed across the screen, forcing her back. “It’s shielded,” she said, turning her gaze once again to Dane.
“Yes,” he replied, as though he already knew. “Can you break through it?”
She cocked her head at him. “That’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. If the designer chose to put up shields, she must have had her reasons.” Aerin could tell by the way he clenched his jaw that he didn’t care. “Dane, did you know this woman, the one who invented the simulator?”
“No.” The answer was clipped and wholly inadequate.
Dane blew hot, then cold. She knew that. What she had not known was the startling revelation of the last few hours. How could the person she knew, with his almost constant sarcasm and pessimistic view of reality, come from a place of such beauty? And he felt that beauty. She had seen the look in his eyes, gazing at the frozen falls and their glistening simulated counterpart. She had not known he could feel that deeply. But he had allowed her to see.
And now he was hiding something.
Frustrated, Aerin let her attention drift back to the control panel. Then her eyes caught sight of a name, carved into the metal plaque above the screen. She peered closer, anger bubbling up on her tongue. “Designed by E. Madousin,” she read aloud, then turned on Dane. “What does the E stand for?”
“Emma,” he replied, his voice low. Then it cracked. “My mother.”
Dane dropped the curtain behind him and headed blindly out of the visitors’ center. Had he lost his mind, bringing Aerin here and dragging her into this mess? It’s not a mess, his brain argued. How could his memory of his mother be a mess? He had no memory of her. She was dead, had always been dead as far as he was concerned. Death could not be messy. It was life that was. And emotion.
Which was why he should not have come here. He knew better, had known better for years than to put himself in that room with the magnificent falls on the simulated cliff. It was like tumbling off the real thing without a ship.
The sound of boots crunching on the ice told him Aerin had followed.
She did not speak, at least not until they had boarded the plane and had once again taken off. He was grateful for her silence and ungrateful as well. There was something about her, something that made him want to take steps he knew he should not.
She rescued him from his thoughts. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” What did she have to apologize for?
“I didn’t know about your mother,” she continued. “I suppose everyone else does.”
“It doesn’t matter what people know,” he replied, keeping his eyes firmly on the view screen. The thick forests were fading, broken by the first scatterings of buildings. “They didn’t know her. I didn’t know her.”
“You know who she was. That’s something.”
Not much.
The buildings began to cluster into the city’s outer rim, and Dane checked the speed gauge. He was well under the limit. You’d think I’d be in a hurry to end this conversation.
Aerin’s next words surprised him, not the statement itself but the fact that she shared it. “I never knew anything about my mother.”
He suspected if there was anyone who knew less about hi
s or her own past than he did, it was Aerin. Maybe that was the real reason he had felt drawn to her. Her past was even more of a black hole than his.
“My father never talked about her,” she said. “I remember asking him once. The look he gave me—it wasn’t happy, or sad. It was more like he couldn’t reach me. I never asked again.” A catch in Aerin’s voice made Dane wonder if she regretted the choice not to press her father for the answer, now that she never could. “I used to imagine he was thinking about her, though, when he would go quiet and stop talking for long stretches at a time. That might sound silly—”
“No.” Dane stopped the flow of words. She did not have to explain this to him.
“Your father doesn’t talk about your mother either?” she asked.
Not with me.
“She must have been incredible,” Aerin whispered, “to build a machine like that.”
Dane closed his eyes. For a moment the city disappeared below him, and he could see the hawk soaring again beside the cliff and hear the water pouring over the rocks. He had facts enough about his mother, had read about her. She was a wealthy debutante from another planet, had attended Academy 7, married his father right out of school, and even been asked to join the Council. She had rejected the offer and died young. But none of that, none of that told him anything. It was the simulation of the cliff side with its impenetrable beauty that was all he really knew about her.
He opened his eyes to the stark reality of the military base stretching beneath him. Its shiny black tarmac glittered with frost. His gut gave a sudden urge to flip the plane around, but Dane forced his way past the desire and swept Gold Dust into a sharp drop.
Once again, Aerin’s hands molded to the arms of her seat. “Shouldn’t you radio in your desire to land?”
He shook his head. “Control knows I’m coming.”
And Gold Dust slid to an abrupt landing. He turned off the plane and removed the strap across his chest. “They’ve been tracking me since I entered the atmosphere.”
“Tracking?”
“Aerin, this is a military planet.” He shoved open his door, climbing down backward in order to keep talking. “They track every vehicle in Chivalry airspace.”