ALEC SPANOS
ALBANY CITY, SE, NEW TRITON
465, FOURTH QUARTER
TWELVE AND A HALF YEARS AGO
The orange stain over the sink had crept further since Alec had been home last. How he hated that stain. His jaw clenched, and he looked away, though the next thing that caught his gaze was the lumpy sofa that hid its equally uncomfortable rollaway bed. Such an ugly old thing. He’d been sleeping on it—or its rollaway when Nate stayed with them—for years now, ever since he’d convinced his mother to listen to reason and take the bedroom.
Mama deserved better than this busted, one-bedroom flat, but she wasn’t going to like his solution. Neither would Nate, but that couldn’t be helped.
Her chuckle brought Alec’s attention back to the kitchenette where she and Nate were finishing up the dinner dishes. Ages ago, Alec had been a little jealous that his best friend had been the one to make Mama laugh, but all that really mattered was that she did.
“Nathaniel,” she was saying, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the one who spilled whatever it was on the magister’s desk.”
“Nitrogen triiodide.” Nate placed his hand over his heart and sighed dramatically. “Must’ve been an accident. They never figured out who threw the paper airplane that set it off. Stars, but that purple cloud was stellar.”
Mama twisted the towel and snapped it at Nate, who dodged it with ease.
Alec frowned. “It’s a good thing Magistra Jones never found out.”
Both turned to him, and Alec forced what he meant to be a smile. Nate grimaced and went back to rinsing the dishes, but Mama dried her hands and crossed back to the table, taking a seat on the wobbly chair next to Alec’s.
Her brown eyes fastened on his. “Is something bothering you?”
His hand sought the worry beads in his pocket. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“University.”
She beamed. “I am so very proud of you, son, for working so hard. Magistra Jones told me what a rare accomplishment it is to double up on classes and still win a scholarship. When you—”
“I’m not going,” he blurted.
Mama’s smile vanished.
A dish splashed back into the sink.
Alec clenched the smooth olive wood beads.
“But you,” Nate sputtered. “We’re supposed to—we start classes after Founding ten-day. You can’t back out now.”
That little upside-down V of worry appeared over Mama’s nose. “Son.”
“I . . . I’ll take out the dinner scraps.” Nate grabbed the small composting bin from the counter and left. Fled, really. The door clicked behind him.
Mama leaned back against her rickety chair. “Alexander, what on New Triton are you thinking?”
“One of the mining corporations is hiring. Job auditions start tomorrow.”
“That is not an option.”
Indignation straightened Alec’s spine. “I’ve finished secondary, and I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
Her eyes bored into his. “You’re sixteen.”
“Almost seventeen.” The beads dug into his palm. “Mama, I can’t run off while you’re stuck here.”
She reached across the table, and after a moment, he took her hand. The skin on her swollen knuckles was chapped and papery thin.
“You’re not drinking enough water,” he said.
A faint smile crept up. “Are you worried that I’ll dehydrate and waste away?”
“No.”
“You can’t turn down this opportunity,” she insisted. “This isn’t about here and now, son. This is about your entire life.”
“I can’t afford to go,” he insisted. “I’ve been talking to recruiters, Mama. The mining office is hiring for the heavy metal processing plant outside the southern buttresses. Second-tier pay, with living quarters provided on rotation. You can move to a better, safer place. One without a stained ceiling.”
Her fingers closed around his. “This is your chance. Without it, you’ll be facing a life of hard labor, stuck at the mercy of the mines’ whims. Think, son, think. An education will allow you to write a pass to another place, better pay, better future.”
“I’m not going to dishonor Papa and Aria by leaving you to rot here.”
“It isn’t dishonorable to think of the future, Alec, and this isn’t forever. Just for now.” She released his hand. “Alec. I need you to escape all this.”
“Second-tier pay,” he repeated.
“But at what cost? You can’t trade your best hope for momentary gain.”
The knot in his throat threatened to choke him. “Papa would’ve wanted me to take care of you.”
“Your father wants—” She caught herself when she used present tense, like she did sometimes. “Would want you to have a future.”
“A future the Consortium ruined.”
She shot a glance at the open window. “Don’t even think that, Alexander, let alone say it aloud. That’s why your father . . . why he’s gone. Why we have such a debt to pay. Don’t draw their attention. Be better than we were.”
“No matter what I do, Mama, I’ll never be better than you.”
“Alec—”
“You have to understand. If I can get that job—good pay and a quarterly rotation, maybe even a part-time job on the off-quarters—I can get you out of here. Let me. Let me pay off Papa’s fines.”
“I’m working on that already. Your father—” She took a long breath. “The debt is being paid down as quickly as possible. My wages will be garnished for a few more years, and . . .” She released his hand, sat straighter. “I’m not the only one contributing. With that help, there are just sixteen years left.”
“Sixteen years. That’s almost as long as I’ve been alive.” Alec narrowed his eyes. “And whose help?”
“It’s complicated.”
The room suddenly seemed very hot. Alec jerked backward, and his chair squeaked in protest. “You’re not seeing someone, are you?”
Her mouth dropped open. “What? Oh, stars, no.”
Alec swallowed. He wasn’t being fair, and he knew it. “I mean, Papa’s been gone for four years, and you would’ve told me, right?”
She crossed to the window and slid the curtains shut. “Maybe it’s time you know.”
His stomach plummeted. She was seeing someone.
“I’ll be right back.” Moments later, she emerged from her bedroom with a small blue box, which she set in front of him. “Go ahead.”
He eyed it, then her, suspiciously. No dust dulled the keepsake box’s glossy paper sides. Metal rivets reinforced the corners, but it had no lock. If she meant to keep it a secret, she’d need a different one altogether, though secure boxes cost credits, and those were scarce. Strange, really, that she’d even purchased this one.
He lifted the lid.
Printed pictures of his parents and him and his sister, copies of Mama and Papa’s contracts, a sketch of her holding Aria as a baby with Alec at her side. Letters. Even four years later, he instantly recognized Papa’s scrawl.
She reached over, shuffled through the papers, and pulled out a damaged envelope. “You need to read this.”
“No, Mama.” He hastily put the lid on the box and shoved it back to her. “I won’t read letters Papa wrote you.”
“You need to.”
“It’s wrong,” he protested. “It’s . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to say just how uncomfortable the thought made him.
She held out the letter.
“It’s all right,” Alec said softly as the realization hit. “I don’t have to read a love letter to know you loved each other. I didn’t mean to question that.”
“That isn’t the point.” She threw another glance at the curtained window, then held the letter to her heart. “This isn’t something I feel safe saying aloud. It’s bad enough that I keep this. But someday, you’ll need to know what’s in this letter and how it pertains to your future, especially if anything happens before those sixteen years are up.” She carefully placed the letter back into the box and closed it again.
“Nothing’s going to happen.” Another sixteen years and he’d be thirty-two. The same age Mama had been when their world came crashing down.
“Processing ore is rough work, Alec,” she pressed. “Don’t sell your future for your present.”
“For yours, too,” he countered. “I can help you pay that debt down faster.”
“I can’t have you trapped in a job that will eat you alive. Paying it off faster is not worth your life, not worth some mining corporation owning your soul. Don’t you see? That would make everything we’ve gone through meaningless.”
Memories flashed past. Those kids, years ago, calling his mother names, calling him a miner brat. The review board questioning whether or not the disappearance of his father made Alec unfit for schooling. Those same doubts cropping up this ten-day when he sat through the interview for the accelerated study plan at university.
“The best victory is success,” she whispered.
His determination wavered. Was she right? Would refusing his scholarship fulfill everything those people had said? Would it justify the Consortium’s claims? Take away any future of fighting back against the ones who had let his sister die and stolen his father away?
“Only sixteen years, Alec. We’ve already paid off five.”
We? But she’d said she wasn’t seeing anyone.
“Do you know how lucky I am?” Mama offered him a wan smile. “Maybe blessed is a better word.”
Alec glanced around the flat, at the stain on the ceiling, at the covered sofa he slept on, at the pots that held the struggling ferns. “How is any of this lucky?”
“Do you remember the night we moved in, and I cried about that hideous stain on the ceiling?”
Alec frowned. “I don’t see any blessing in that.”
“We stretched out on the floor and stared up at it. Made it into a map from another world where no one ever disappeared except the villains.”
“Your stories—”
“No,” she interrupted gently. “Yours, like your father’s. My brave son took a stain in a dilapidated flat and made it so much more.” Her eyes softened. “You protected me with your father’s fairy tales and brought the drab, lonely world back to life. You faced down bullies to protect my name. Studied to get through school faster than anyone expected, even me, and I think you’re brilliant. You are my blessing, Alec.” She inhaled and finished, “I need you to go to university.”
“And you’re mine.” The old clock he’d bought for her at the open market a few years ago clicked in its uneven, irreparable way. He heaved a sigh. “You win.”
“So you’ll go?”
“I will,” he promised. “Maybe I should’ve thought it through more.”
“Good.” She glanced at the broken clock, then at her black-and-metal identification band. “It’s getting close to curfew. Go find poor Nate, who is taking way too long to get rid of food scraps.” She tapped the blue box with a thin finger. “Bring Nate back for cake while I put this away again.”
“You shouldn’t have made a cake, Mama.”
“Nonsense.” Her smile returned. “When my son and his best friend pass their entrance exams, a celebration is in order.”
He headed for the door but turned back when she called his name.
Brown eyes bored into his. “You will need to read these letters.”
Alec made a noncommittal noise instead of a promise and closed the door behind him. “Nate?”
No answer.
Alec jogged down the stairs to the community compost vat and winced at the sharp stench of methane. Sure enough, Nate was leaning against the faux brick wall that separated the slowly rotating barrel from the walkway while he chucked pieces of debris at the neighboring building.
Nate’s glare pinned Alec like a biology lab specimen, all the little needles flaying it open, then he looked away and lobbed another pebble. It bounced back, sending up a tiny cloud of dust. “Should’ve told me.”
“I know.”
“Thought we were friends.”
“We are,” Alec said. “I just wanted to get Mama out of here. Getting a job instead of a degree seemed like the fastest, best way.”
“It’s a stupid—” Nate raised his head. “Wanted. Seemed. That’s past tense. You change your mind?”
“Yeah. I guess I spoke too soon. I’m going after all.”
“Good. I mean, I get it. I want to help her, too. Your mom’s closer to a mother to me than anyone else. Better than my family, for certain.”
“She calls you her second boy.” Alec blew out a long breath. “Stars, Nate. I about spaced everything.”
“You trying to make it worse? Your mom hears you swear like that, and you’ll be in a freighter load of trouble.”
A reluctant grin spread over Alec’s face. “True enough.”
“Tell you what,” Nate said. “I’ll help, too. We’ll get internships or something, and between the two of us, we’ll get her out of here.”
Alec stiffened. “She’s not your responsibility.”
Nate stooped to pick up another piece of crumbled concrete. He threw it hard, and it pinged off the composting vat. “Thing is, you’re right. She deserves more than this stupid flat. If the universe really was fair, it’d kick my grandfather—”
“Who’s voided dross.” When Nate raised an eyebrow, Alec added, “She met him once, remember? She’d agree.”
“That’s probably true. Wish I could kick him out of his fancy place and set your mother up there.” He gestured. “You attached to hanging out next to the compost?”
“Not really,” Alec said. “You’re the one who chose it.”
Side by side, they retraced the path to the flat.
“Alec?” Nate’s voice grew quieter. “I couldn’t have gone with you, not after working in the mines killed my mother.”
They reached the stairs, and Alec paused at the bottom step. “I didn’t expect you to.”
“My grandfather tells people that mines are all I’m worth. I can’t make that true.”
Don’t let them win, reverberated in Alec’s mind. “Mama says the best victory is success.”
Nate stared up at the riveted dome. “I think she’s right.”
“I suppose the one way to know for sure is to succeed.”
The curfew signal sounded its first warning.
“We’ll show them,” Nate said as they climbed the steps. “Know what? I’d trade places with you if it wouldn’t mean sticking you with my family. You’re lucky.”
The truth of the statement settled in Alec’s bones, and he almost smiled. “I know.”
Before they reached the top step, the chipped green door opened, almost as if Mama had been watching for them. “Well, are you two going to stay outside until you’re arrested, or are you coming in to have some dessert?”
Nate’s expression brightened. “There’s dessert?”
“Cake. Real cake,” she clarified. “With proper flour, not beans.”
Nate whooped and darted past her.
“Wash your hands, young man,” she reminded him. “Alec?”
“In a minute, Mama.”
She studied him, then offered a faint smile. “We’ll wait for you.”
The door clicked shut, and he leaned against the frame. Overhead, a dim, dim blur told him that New Triton’s moon had risen.
Mama was right. Nate was right.
But no matter what, he’d see that his father’s debt was paid off.
Alec set his jaw, nodded goodnight to the distant moon, and went inside to join Mama and Nate. To join his family.