Zoe's Tale

  “They already know,” I said. “I heard John and Jane talking about it last night after he got back from Phoenix Station. Everyone there knows the colonies are under attack. No one’s reporting it—the Colonial Union has a lockdown on the news—but everyone’s talking about it.”

  “What does that leave for Roanoke?” Gretchen said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I know we don’t have a lot of pull right now.”

  “So we’re all going to die,” Gretchen said. “Well. Gee. Thanks, Zoë. I’m really glad to know it.”

  “It’s not that bad yet,” I said. “Our parents are working on it. They’ll figure it out. We’re not all going to die.”

  “Well, you’re not going to die, at least,” Gretchen said.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “If things really go swirling, the Obin will swoop in and take you out of here,” Gretchen said. “Although if all of the Colonial Union is really under attack, I’m not sure where you’re going to end up going. But the point is, you have an escape route. The rest of us don’t.”

  I stared at Gretchen. “That’s incredibly unfair,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere, Gretchen.”

  “Why?” Gretchen said. “I’m not angry at you that you have a way out, Zoë. I’m envious. I’ve been through one attack. Just one missile got through and it didn’t even explode properly, and it still did incredible damage and killed someone I care about and everyone in his family. When they come for us for real, we don’t have a chance.”

  “You still have your training,” I said.

  “I’m not going to be able to engage in single combat with a missile, Zoë,” Gretchen said, annoyed. “Yes, if someone decides to have a landing party here, I might be able to fight them off for a while. But after what we’ve done to that Conclave fleet, do you think anyone is really going to bother? They’re just going to blow us up from the sky. You said it yourself. They want to be rid of us. And you’re the only one that has a chance of getting out of here.”

  “I already said I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

  “Jesus, Zoë,” Gretchen said. “I love you, I really do, but I can’t believe you’re actually that dumb. If you have a chance to go, go. I don’t want you to die. Your mom and dad don’t want it. The Obin will hack a path through all the rest of us to keep you from dying. I think you should take the hint.”

  “I get the hint,” I said. “But you don’t understand. I’ve been the sole survivor, Gretchen. It’s happened to me before. Once is enough for any lifetime. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Hickory and Dickory want you to leave Roanoke,” Dad said to me, after he had paged me with his PDA. Hickory and Dickory were standing in the living room with him. I was clearly coming in on some sort of negotiation between them. And it was also clearly about me. The tone of Dad’s voice was light enough that I could tell he was hoping to make some point to the Obin, and I was pretty sure I knew what the point was.

  “Are you and Mom coming?” I said.

  “No,” Dad said.

  This I expected. Whatever was going to happen with the colony, both John and Jane would see it through, even if it meant they would die with it. It’s what they expected of themselves as colony leaders, as former soldiers, and as human beings.

  “Then to hell with that,” I said. I looked at Hickory and Dickory when I said it.

  “Told you,” Dad said to Hickory.

  “You didn’t tell her to come away,” Hickory said.

  “Go away, Zoë,” Dad said. This was said with such a sarcastic delivery that even Hickory and Dickory couldn’t miss it.

  I gave a less-than-entirely-polite response to that, and then to Hickory and Dickory, and then, for good measure, to the whole idea that I was something special to the Obin. Because I was feeling saucy, and also because I was tired of the whole thing. “If you want to protect me,” I said to Hickory, “then protect this colony. Protect the people I care about.”

  “We cannot,” Hickory said. “We are forbidden to do so.”

  “Then you have a problem,” I said, “because I’m not going anywhere. And there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it.” And then I left, dramatically, partly because I think that was what Dad was expecting, and partly because I was done saying what I wanted to say on the matter.

  Then I went to my room and waited for Dad to call me again. Because whatever was going on between him and Hickory and Dickory, it wasn’t over when I stomped out of the room. And like I said, whatever it was, was clearly about me.

  About ten minutes later Dad called for me again. I went back into the living room. Hickory and Dickory were gone.

  “Sit down, Zoë, please,” Dad said. “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Does it involve leaving Roanoke?” I asked.

  “It does,” Dad said.

  “No,” I said.

  “Zoë,” Dad said.

  “No,” I said again. “And I don’t understand you. Ten minutes ago you were happy to have me stand here in front of Hickory and Dickory and tell them I wasn’t going anywhere, and now you want me to leave? What did they tell you to make you change your mind?”

  “It’s what I told them,” Dad said. “And I haven’t changed my mind. I need you to go, Zoë.”

  “For what?” I said. “So I can stay alive while everyone I care about dies? You and Mom and Gretchen and Magdy? So I can be saved when Roanoke is destroyed?”

  “I need you to go so I can save Roanoke,” Dad said.

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “That’s probably because you didn’t actually let me finish before you got on your soapbox,” Dad said.

  “Don’t mock me,” I said.

  Dad sighed. “I’m not trying to mock you, Zoë. But what I really need from you right now is to be quiet so I can tell you about this. Can you do that, please? It will make things go a lot more quickly. Then if you say no, at least you’ll be saying no for the right reasons. All right?”

  “All right,” I said.

  “Thank you,” Dad said. “Look. Right now all of the Colonial Union is under attack because we destroyed the Conclave fleet. Every CU world has been hit. The Colonial Defense Forces are strained as it is, and it’s going to get worse. A lot worse. The Colonial Union is already making decisions about what colonies it can afford to lose when push comes to shove.”

  “And Roanoke is one of those,” I said.

  “Yes,” Dad said. “Very definitely. But it’s more than that, Zoë. There was a possibility that I might have been able to ask the Obin to help us here on Roanoke. Because you were here. But the Colonial Union has told the Obin not to help us at all. They can take you from here, but they can’t help you or us defend Roanoke. The Colonial Union doesn’t want them to help us.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It doesn’t make sense if you assume the Colonial Union wants Roanoke to survive,” Dad said. “But look at it another way, Zoë. This is the first colony with colonists from the CU rather than Earth. The settlers here are from the ten most powerful and most populous Colonial Union worlds. If Roanoke is destroyed, all ten of those worlds are going to be hit hard by the loss. Roanoke will become a rallying cry for those worlds. And for the whole Colonial Union.”

  “You’re saying we’re worth more to the Colonial Union dead than alive,” I said.

  “We’re worth more as a symbol than as a colony,” Dad said. “Which is inconvenient for those of us who live here and want to stay alive. But, yes. It’s why they won’t let the Obin help us. It’s why we don’t make the cut for resources.”

  “You know this for sure?” I asked. “Someone told you this when you went back to Phoenix Station?”

  “Someone did,” Dad said. “A man named General Szilard. He was Jane’s former commanding officer. It was unofficial, but it matched up with my own internal math.”

  “And you trust him?” I asked. “No offense,
but the Colonial Union hasn’t exactly been on the up-and-up with us lately.”

  “I have my issues with Szilard,” Dad said. “And so does your mom. But yes. I trust him on this. Right now he’s the only one in the whole Colonial Union I actually do trust.”

  “What does this have to with me leaving Roanoke?” I asked.

  “General Szilard told me something else when I saw him,” Dad said. “Also unofficial, but from good sources. He told me that General Gau, the Conclave leader—”

  “I know who he is, Dad,” I said. “I’ve been keeping up with current events.”

  “Sorry,” Dad said. “He said General Gau was being targeted for assassination by someone in his own close circle of advisors, and that the assassination would happen soon, probably in the next few weeks.”

  “Why’d he tell you this?” I asked.

  “So I could use it,” Dad said. “Even if the Colonial Union wanted to tell General Gau about the attempt—which it doesn’t, since it probably would like to see it succeed—there’s no reason to believe that Gau would consider it credible. The CU did just blow up his fleet. But Gau might listen to the information if it came from me, because he’s already had dealings with me.”

  “And you were the one who begged him not to bring his fleet to Roanoke,” I said.

  “Right,” Dad said. “It’s because of that we’ve been attacked as little as we have. General Gau said to me that neither he nor the Conclave would retaliate against Roanoke itself for what happened to the fleet.”

  “We were still attacked,” I said.

  “But not by the Conclave itself,” Dad said. “By someone else, testing our defenses. But if Gau is assassinated, that guarantee dies with him. And then it’s open season on Roanoke, and we’ll get hit, fast, because we’re where the Conclave had its biggest defeat. We’re a symbol for the Conclave, too. So we have to let General Gau know he’s in danger. For our own sake.”

  “If you tell him this, you’ll be giving information to an enemy of the Colonial Union,” I said. “You’ll be a traitor.”

  Dad gave me a wry grin. “Trust me, Zoë,” he said. “I’m already neck-deep in trouble.” His smile disappeared. “And yes, General Gau is an enemy of the Colonial Union. But I think he might be a friend to Roanoke. Right now, Roanoke needs all the friends it can get, wherever it can get them. The ones we used to have are turning their backs on us. We’re going out to this new one, hat in hand.”

  “And by we you mean me,” I said.

  “Yes,” Dad said. “I need you to deliver this message for me.”

  “You don’t need me to do it,” I said. “You could do it. Mom could do it. It would be better from either of you.”

  Dad shook his head. “Neither Jane nor I can leave Roanoke, Zoë. The Colonial Union is watching us. They don’t trust us. And even if we could, we can’t leave because we belong here with the colonists. We’re their leaders. We can’t abandon them. Whatever happens to them happens to us too. We made a promise to them and we’re going to stay and defend this colony, no matter what happens. You understand that.” I nodded. “So we can’t go.

  “But you can, and secretly,” Dad said. “The Obin already want to take you off Roanoke. The Colonial Union will allow it because it’s part of their treaty with the Obin, and as long as Jane and I stay here, it won’t raise an eyebrow. The Obin are technically neutral in the fight between the Conclave and the Colonial Union; an Obin ship will be able to get to General Gau’s headquarters where a ship from the Colonial Union couldn’t.”

  “So send Hickory and Dickory,” I said. “Or just have the Obin send a skip drone to General Gau.”

  “It won’t work,” Dad said. “The Obin are not going to jeopardize their relationship with the Colonial Union to pass messages for me. The only reason they’re doing this at all is because I’m agreeing to let them take you off Roanoke. I’m using the only piece of leverage I have with the Obin, Zoë. That’s you.

  “And there’s something else. General Gau has to know that I believe the information I’m sending him is good. That I’m not just being a pawn again in a larger Colonial Union game. I need to give him a token of my sincerity, Zoë. Something that proves that I have as much to risk in sending him this information as he has in receiving it. Even if I or Jane could go ourselves, General Gau would have no reason to trust what we say to him, because he knows both Jane and I were soldiers and are leaders. He knows we would be willing to sacrifice ourselves for our colony. But he also knows that I’m not willing to sacrifice my only daughter. And neither is Jane.

  “So you see, Zoë. It has to be you. No one else can do it. You’re the only one who can get to General Gau, deliver the message, and be believed. Not me, not Jane, not Hickory and Dickory. No one else. Just you. Deliver the message, and we might still find a way to save Roanoke. It’s a small chance. But right now it’s the only one we’ve got.”

  I sat there for a few minutes, taking in what Dad asked of me. “You know if Hickory and Dickory take me off Roanoke, they’re not going to want to bring me back,” I said, finally. “You know that.”

  “I’m pretty sure of it,” Dad said.

  “You’re asking me to leave,” I said. “You’re asking me to accept that I might not ever see any of you again. Because if General Gau won’t believe me, or if he’s killed before I can talk to him, or even if he does believe me but can’t do anything to help us, this trip won’t mean anything. All it will do is get me off Roanoke.”

  “If that’s all it did, Zoë, I still wouldn’t complain,” Dad said, and then quickly held up his hand, to stop me from commenting on that. “But if that’s all I thought it would do, I wouldn’t ask you to do it. I know you don’t want to leave Roanoke, Zoë. I know you don’t want to leave us or your friends. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Zoë. But you’re also old enough now to make your own decisions. If when all was said and done you wanted to stay on Roanoke to face whatever came our way, I wouldn’t try to stop you. Nor would Jane. We would be with you until the end. You know that.”

  “I do,” I said.

  “There are risks for everyone,” Dad said. “When Jane and I tell the Roanoke colony council about this—which we will do once you’re gone—I’m pretty sure they are going to kick us out as the colony leaders. When news gets back to the Colonial Union, Jane and I are almost certainly going to be arrested on charges of treason. Even if everything goes perfectly, Zoë, and General Gau accepts your message and acts on it and maybe even makes sure that Roanoke stays unmolested, we will still have to pay for our actions. Jane and I accept this. We think it’s worth it for a chance to keep Roanoke safe. The risk for you here, Zoë, is that if you do this, you might not see us or your friends again for a very long time, or at all. It’s a big risk. It’s a real risk. You have to decide whether it’s one worth taking.”

  I thought about this some more. “How long do I have to think about this?” I asked.

  “All the time you need,” Dad said. “But those assassins aren’t sitting around doing nothing.”

  I glanced over to where Hickory and Dickory had been. “How long do you think it will take them to get a transport here?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Dad said. “If they didn’t send for one the second I was done talking to them, I’ll eat my hat.”

  “You don’t wear a hat,” I said.

  “I will buy a hat and eat it, then,” Dad said.

  “I’m going to come back,” I said. “I’m going to take this message to General Gau, and then I’m going to get back here. I’m not sure how I’m going to convince the Obin of that, but I’m going to do it. I promise you, Dad.”

  “Good,” Dad said. “Bring an army with you. And guns. And battle cruisers.”

  “Guns, cruisers, army,” I said, running down the checklist. “Anything else? I mean, as long as I’m going shopping.”

  “Rumor is that I might be in the market for a hat,” Dad said.

  “Hat, right,” I sai
d.

  “Make it a jaunty hat,” he said.

  “I promise nothing,” I said.

  “Fine,” Dad said. “But if you have to choose between the hat and the army, pick the army. And make it a good one. We’re going to need it.”

  “Where is Gretchen?” Jane asked me. We stood outside the small Obin transport. I had already said good-bye to Dad. Hickory and Dickory waited for me inside the transport.

  “I didn’t tell her I was leaving,” I said.

  “She is going to be very upset about that,” Mom said.

  “I don’t intend to be away long enough for her to miss me,” I said. Mom didn’t say anything to that.

  “I wrote her a note,” I said, finally. “It’s scheduled for delivery tomorrow morning. I told her what I thought I could tell her about why I left. I told her to talk to you about the rest of it. So she might come by to see you.”

  “I’ll talk to her about it,” Jane said. “I’ll try to make her understand.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “How are you?” Mom asked.

  “I’m terrified,” I said. “I’m scared I’ll never see you or Dad or Gretchen again. I’m scared I’m going to screw this up. I’m scared that even if I don’t screw this up it won’t matter. I feel like I’m going to pass out, and I’ve felt that way since this thing landed.”

  Jane gave me a hug and then looked to my neck, puzzled. “You’re not taking your jade elephant pendant?” she said.

  “Oh,” I said. “It’s a long story. Tell Gretchen I said for her to tell it to you. You need to know about it anyway.”

  “Did you lose it?” Jane asked.

  “It’s not lost,” I said. “It’s just not with me anymore.”

  “Oh,” Jane said.

  “I don’t need it anymore,” I said. “I know who in this world loves me, and has loved me.”

  “Good,” Jane said. “What I was going to tell you is that as well as remembering who loves you, you should remember who you are. And everything about who you are. And everything about what you are.”

  “What I am,” I said, and smirked. “It’s because of what I am that I’m leaving. What I am has been more trouble than it’s worth, if you ask me.”