PERSONAL RECORD: DESIGNATION ZETA4542910-9545E
FOUNDERS’ HALL, ALBANY CITY, NEW TRITON
478.3.1.04
Words flowed past me, as incomprehensible as static, and I attempted to listen to the citizens who stepped forward, one after another, to testify on my behalf: Jordan, Nate, Max, Alec, Zhen, Jackson, Quincy . . . perhaps half the people gathered on my behalf. After the last marine moved back, uneasy quiet filled the room, despite the small crowd of approximately two score men and women.
“Recorder”—the deputy prime minister glanced at her datapad—“Zeta4542910-9545E, you have been of great assistance to the system, citizen and Consortium alike. These citizens have testified to your bravery and generosity of spirit, and I personally would like to thank you for your efforts.” A soft smile spread over her lined face. “You’ve become a bit of a folk hero to the younger citizens. My granddaughter actually cut off her hair to mimic yours. Her whole class has.” She tsk’d. “Quite shocking, I tell you, all those young people running about nearly as bald as an Elder.”
“I?”
“Oh yes, dear. Several sketches of you have been circulating on the news. You’ve shown true humanity, no matter that you are a Recorder.”
“Was,” Nate said clearly, and when the Eldest turned to him again, my panic reared up, as large and overwhelming as a roach. He shifted his weight. “She was a Recorder.”
The prime minister’s smile became artificial, and she shot a sideways glance at the slender woman in Consortium grey. “Thank you, young man. Do you have anything to add, Recorder, dear?”
“It has been my honor to serve,” I began, but the Eldest held up her hand, trapping my words in my throat.
“Enough.” The soft, thick soprano carried through the room. “Your testimony—those of you who could legally give it—has been recorded. I know where you have been, where you are. I will know where you will be.”
Nate moved closer, and I wanted to order him back, but doing so would worsen the situation.
“Deputy Prime Minister,” the Eldest said mildly, without turning her solid grey eyes from me, “we, too, have testimony, for this aberration is damaged. I will not relinquish her.”
The deputy prime minister’s reply was drowned by the loud protests around me. I closed my eyes briefly against the sound, opening them again to see the Eldest hold up both hands. Shouts and protests fell to a low growl.
“Since this meeting was called by citizens, I first summon their own.”
A side door opened, and five citizens entered. Dr. Imogene Clarkson, Sarah Watkins, Ursula Bryce, Paul Foster, and—the betrayal stabbed at me—Adrienne Smith.
Dr. Clarkson began her recitation of my uselessness and interference, but the Eldest cut her long-winded explanation short. Sarah Watkins spoke next, relating my lack of control, even citing the times I had threatened the citizens on Agamemnon.
“That’s not true,” Eric burst out, and Watkins shot a glare at him.
“Check with the others,” Watkins said. “I wouldn’t give false testimony.”
Bryce and Foster insisted that Watkins had told the truth, and finally, Adrienne Smith’s nasal intonations sliced at me. She asserted I had falsified records, though at least she admitted that she had only the proof of her own eyes and memory.
The Elders’ drones released their tendrils.
“That is enough, citizen,” the Eldest said gently. “Know this, Deputy Prime Minister. This testimony is for your benefit, to prove that she is not fit to be loose in your world. But for the tribunal present, I call the doctor who can verify some of these claims and uncovered other flaws.”
Max set a hand on my shoulder, and I had a brief, unrealistic fear he, too, would bear witness against me. The thought was unjust, but terror was an unreliable counselor.
The side door opened again, and the Recorder-doctor emerged. His eyes, wide and dilated, remained fastened on the Eldest, and his tongue shot out across his lips.
“Eldest,” he said, and even in that single word, his voice shook.
“Go on,” she said gently. “Tell them what you learned.”
He did, spilling out my disobedience, my purported yet exonerated smuggling, my fraternization with citizens, and the way I hid behind their regulations to avoid my duty. He did not mention any suspicions of my involvement with the network’s collapse on Thalassa, but it hovered unspoken, like a drone. He had to shout to be heard over the surging arguments behind me.
How I wanted to lean against Nate, but doing so would condemn him.
Somehow, the Eldest’s serene voice hushed my friends when she asked, “Would she be an asset to the citizenry?”
“I do not see how she could be anything but a liability.” The Recorder-doctor licked his lips again. “She has no skills, Eldest, other than what the Consortium gave her, but those skills are useless to her outside our community and given her condition.”
My blood froze, and I met the Eldest’s eyes, shaking my head, silently pleading that they refrain from telling all the worlds.
“What condition?” the Eldest asked gently. “Do not hesitate. I absolve you of relaying medical information.”
“She cannot read,” the doctor said. “She is functionally illiterate.”
The room fell silent.
His voice seemed unnaturally loud. “Her mind is hampered by damage wreaked by the virus she helped loose on the system when she continued to act as a Recorder despite losing her neural connection to her drone.”
“Given the facts, Aberrant”—the Eldest’s voice was almost kind—“do you have anything to add?”
My one chance, my single hope that she would have mercy croaked from my suddenly dry mouth. “Although I acted in defiance of the Recorder’s implied command, I notified you of the continued threat against the Training Centers. To protect the Consortium.”
The Eldest’s tone lost all smoothness. “You were late. Too late.”
My response was unsteady. “What do you mean?”
“With damage to Consortium systems that I believe to be linked to you—”
“Per our mandate, Eldest,” I interrupted, all caution discarded, “you cannot accuse without proof.”
Misplaced pride shot through me. I had been correct: she would show no mercy. But I had succeeded. Despite my flaws, despite my weaknesses, I had kept my friends safe, and not even the Eldest herself had found evidence against me.
Grey nanodevices shimmered across her eyes like mercury, and even her skin pulsed grey for a moment. “That is enough. Such defiance—” She inhaled. “I arrived this morning for two purposes. Firstly, to retrieve Consortium property.”
More waves of protest swept through the cluster of friends behind me, but bright and clear, Max’s words repeated in my heart: stardust or creation.
I raised my chin in pointless defiance. “I am not your property.”
One of her three drones flicked its tendrils.
The Eldest turned her attention to the older woman. “Secondly, Deputy Prime Minister, I again request assistance for my people.”
“It is against the charter, the founding documents, and the AAVA to arm Recorders.” The deputy prime minister’s face stretched into a grimace-like smile. “Both militia and marines are banned from your properties.”
“We have lost three Training Centers to attacks citizens should have prevented.”
Three Training Centers? My heart nigh unto stopped. “Clarify.”
No one answered me.
“I’m sorry for your losses, Eldest,” the deputy prime minister said smoothly. “But we aren’t omniscient. You can’t honestly expect us to know—”
All twelve drones shot into the air, all appendages stretched to their fullest length. The Eldest’s face drained to a pale, ashy grey, and her eyes widened. “No.”
The hair on my arms rose.
“You will assist me, citizen.” Her voice changed, became hard as marble. “Now.”
As surely as if a drone had told me, I knew then.
I took two strides toward the front of the room. Nate grabbed at my hand, and I took it, for I needed his strength. “Training Center Alpha. Is it Training Center Alpha?”
Her eyes narrowed at me. “Your actions have brought this on us.”
Though it was likely that he would suffer for doing so, the Recorder-doctor answered me. “They have fallen silent. Not a single Recorder, not a single Elder on the premises is audible on the network.”
“Moons above.” Tia’s exclamation seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden stillness. “Like when those monsters hit Thalassa and the ship’s Recorder collapsed? But the giftings—what of the babies?”
Even Imogene Clarkson blanched. “All those kids?”
“The Recorders and novices will be lost, but the children who do not have drones—is there hope for them?” My lungs tightened. “Eldest! Is there hope?”
Solid grey eyes flashed at me. “Only if the citizens who murdered my people before are not armed this time.”
I turned my back on the Eldest and her tribunal, on the deputy prime minister.
Cane in hand like a baton, I staggered to a run, my wrist pulsing with light and mild currents, Nate at one side, Jordan at the other, my friends and a group of unarmed marines thundering behind us.