SEVENTY-TWO

 

 

THE GROUNDS OF Aristotle Academy were quiet—or as quiet as they could be, given all of the armed guards everywhere. The stepped-up security was mostly visible: the Academy had had top-of-the-line hard-to-see security since Flint helped to upgrade their systems after the Deshin incident.

He didn’t like the armed guards, especially around children, but he had lost that fight with Selah Rutledge. She didn’t want any “bad guys”—her words—to get into the Academy and blow it up.

Everyone had been on edge since the Anniversary Day attacks, some more than others. Armstrong, which was relatively untouched—if you could count an assassination of the mayor untouched—slipped into business-as-usual sooner than every place else. But the human residents still walked around like they’d been hit with a hammer. Many of the permanent alien residents seemed shell-shocked as well, although it was harder for Flint to see the obvious signs.

All he knew was that everyone, everyone, was tense and irritable and, underneath it all, frightened.

Especially Talia.

She walked beside him now, her shoulder brushing his. She had dressed carefully this morning, a sign of nerves for her. He’d learned that early in their relationship. When Talia was frightened or nervous or angry, she wore clothes like armor, as if they could shield her from anything bad that might head her way.

The stone path curved across the well-manicured lawn. Flint had come in through this particular side door because he found the walk to the entrance soothing.

So in some ways, he used things to calm himself, just like his daughter did.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Talia said.

“I know,” Flint said. He kept his gaze straight ahead. He didn’t want to see her expression or he might give in. “You’ve made that clear for the past three days.”

“And you haven’t listened.” Her voice rose. “You need me on this research, Dad. You’re the one who said it: We’re the only ones who can do this.”

He hated it when she hurled his own words out at him. He sighed and stopped walking. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him, not because she was going to look away, but because he knew the movement annoyed her.

She needed to separate from him for a while. Just like everyone else, she needed to get back to a normal routine. And she needed to remember that she could stand up for herself, that she could be independent and alone.

She couldn’t be beside him all the time, even if her fears made her want to stay at his side.

But he couldn’t tell her that. Not again. The first time he had said it, she had gotten so angry that she shouted for ten minutes. But she didn’t storm out of the room, and he knew that was a bad sign. She had to be away from him, even for a short period of time.

So talking to her didn’t work. Instead, he had to convince her that leaving was her idea. And that wasn’t working either. So he did what he could to annoy her.

Even though he wanted her to remain at his side. In fact, he never wanted to lose sight of her again.

Which told him just how panicked he was, deep down inside.

“Yeah,” he said to her, his voice down. “I said that about the research. We are two of the only people who can do it, and we’re ahead on it. We’ve done a lot in the past two weeks.”

Her eyes narrowed. She knew he was going to add “but…” “So that’s why we should continue,” she said before he could say anything else.

He sighed. “It took years to set this up,” he said, then corrected himself. “Actually, it took decades. Which means that we’re looking at something really big here.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why we have to hurry.”

“We are hurrying,” he said. “And we’re not the only ones working on it now.”

He glanced at the school. The doors were still open. The school day hadn’t begun yet. And, more importantly, no one was around them, listening to the conversation.

“I think that discussion we had on Anniversary Day was accurate,” he said softly. “I think the assassinations were the first wave, and the explosions were the second. I think there will be a third—”

“Which is why I can’t waste my time learning Moon history,” Talia said.

“That’s exactly why you need to be here,” Flint said. “I don’t think, and Noelle doesn’t think, and others don’t think, that the third wave will happen on the Moon. I think Noelle was right when she said this is war. I think these attacks are on the Earth Alliance, not just the Moon, and I think the next will be just as devastating as Anniversary Day. I also think that attack was planned when this attack was—twenty or more years ago.”

“So the research—”

“Is what these guys expect,” Flint said. “They’ve set up trails and tracks that we have to follow, but they’re going to lead us astray. If we hurry, which is also what they expect, we’ll make huge mistakes.”

She frowned. He realized he hadn’t said this to her before.

He lowered his voice even more. “If I were planning these attacks, I’d do the next one a year or more from now, after we’ve relaxed our guard, after we’ve gotten used to daily life again, after our new security measures become routine. And then I’d attack some place unexpected, some place that would send a different message, and I’d make that attack just as devastating and inexplicable.”

She stared at him for a long moment, looking wan and terrified. Then she smiled. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes, so he knew it was forced.

“It’s a good thing you’re not planning these,” she said.

“I’m worried that whoever is planning them is smarter than I am, Talia,” he said. “This person is certainly more patient than I am. I couldn’t wait twenty or more years to launch an attack, no matter how effective I’d believe it would be.”

She hadn’t moved from his grip. Her frown deepened. “I want to find out what’s going on,” she said.

“Me, too,” Flint said. “But we have to go back to living, Talia. If we don’t go back to our lives, then this person or these people really have destroyed the Moon.”

Her eyes filled with tears. Then she blinked them away. She raised her chin. “I’m going to be bored,” she said.

“I doubt that,” he said.

“I’m going to hate every minute that I can’t figure out what’s going on,” she said.

“I doubt that too,” he said.

“I’m never going to think things are normal again,” she said.

He nodded. “That I believe.”

She shook herself out of his grip, then she leaned forward and, to his surprise, she kissed him on the cheek.

“Be here on time, Dad,” she said. He had promised her that he would pick her up when school got out. “I’m going to want a progress report. And there better be progress.”

He grinned. He wondered if that was his first real grin since Anniversary Day.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“Good.” She nodded at him, and then she sprinted to the front door, leaving him behind.

He stood for a moment in the manicured lawn of the most elite school in Armstrong, his heart twisting. He didn’t want to leave her either. He didn’t want to do anything except bunker into his house and never come out.

But he was taking his own advice. He was returning to his daily routine. As were so many other people all over the Moon. Others didn’t have that luxury yet. Others were still cleaning up the collapsed domes, mourning friends and family, and trying to rebuild ruined buildings.

He knew that DeRicci hadn’t had more than a few hours of sleep per day since the attacks happened. And he knew that she hadn’t seen much of Nyquist either, who was leading the interrogations of that facilitator, Palmette.

For everyone, life would never be exactly the same. But for a lot of people, daily life would never return.

Flint and Talia had been lucky this time.

He was going to make sure they remained lucky.

He was going to figure out what the hell happened, and make sure that the third wave never, ever, arrived.

He wasn’t going to do it for himself or for the Moon or for the Earth Alliance.

He was doing it for Talia. She deserved a normal life. She deserved a bright future.

He was going to make sure she would get it.