Taylor wanted to go back to her apartment and rest. Instead the entire group went into council chambers, where they had to tell about their experiences all over again. Taylor told what had happened up until her group reached the courthouse lobby; then she couldn’t speak, couldn’t even look at the councilmen and councilwomen who watched her with heavy gazes. They already knew what had happened to Xavier. Lee and Ren had given Santa Fe a report when they’d reached the first base. But she still couldn’t speak. Her throat felt as though someone had tightened a knot around it.
Taylor remembered the day the team had left for Traventon. She had told President Mason, “Freedom means paying off your debts. After this is over, we’re even.” She would never be even now. Xavier had died for her. How did a person pay back that sort of debt?
Echo finished their story while Taylor looked at the table, watching the wood grain go in and out of focus. As he concluded, she managed to say, “Tell Xavier’s family he was a hero. Tell them I’m sorry we couldn’t bring home his body. . . . Tell them I . . .” But then the words seemed to lodge in her throat and she couldn’t get anything else out.
She didn’t ever want to meet Xavier’s family. She didn’t want to know if he was married or whether he had children. She didn’t want to see them weighing the value of his life against hers.
Lee and Ren spoke next. They were surprisingly complimentary of each other during their report. That was something Taylor hadn’t expected. It was the first time she’d noticed, though she should have seen it on the trip home, that their earlier distrust of each other had gone.
President Mason thanked them for their efforts on Santa Fe’s behalf, but the words had a hard time finding purchase in Taylor’s mind. She was still back in the Traventon courthouse lobby, endlessly reliving those last minutes and trying to redo them. If only she hadn’t fallen down and delayed herself. If only . . .
Taylor didn’t realize that the president had excused the team, and given the council a recess, until everyone got up from the table and made their way to the door. Then she stood up and followed the others outside.
Joseph paused a little ways away from the building’s doors. “I was thinking,” he told Taylor, “that after we get Sheridan and Echo situated, we could take them on a tour of the city.” He turned his attention to Sheridan. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. “I’ve got a lot of credits now. We could look at jewelry. . . .”
Sheridan blushed and laughed.
Echo took Joseph by the arm and began leading him away. “Don’t worry,” he told Sheridan with exaggerated concern. “While we’re gone, I’ll have a talk with Joseph on the art of being subtle.” Echo gave Taylor a wink. “Message us when you’re ready.”
And despite what he’d just said to Sheridan, the smile Echo sent Taylor wasn’t subtle at all.
Taylor would have started off with Sheridan to their apartment, but President Mason walked up to them. His expression during the council meeting had been stern. Now it held different emotions: sadness and concern. It softened him, made him seem more human.
“I wanted to let you know,” he told Taylor, “that Xavier’s family doesn’t blame you for what happened.”
The phrase didn’t give her much comfort. It sounded like the polite sort of thing people in Santa Fe said to each other when they weren’t arguing. “How do you know that?” Taylor asked. She blamed herself. How could they not?
“Because I’m his father,” President Mason said.
Taylor heard Sheridan’s sharp intake of breath, but she didn’t say anything. Taylor didn’t either. Her worst fear had come true, was standing here looking her in the eyes. Eyes, she could see, that were tinged with the deep pain of loss.
“It was Xavier’s choice to give his life for yours,” President Mason went on, perhaps because she was still staring at him, horrified and mute. “It was always in his nature to help others. It’s why he became a surgeon. He wanted to save lives. . . .”
This only made Taylor feel worse. It had never been in her nature to help others. She felt the debt of Xavier’s life weighing down on her, heavy, impossible. A flash of fury ran through her at all of it. “You knew it was a dangerous mission,” she said, “and you knew what your son was like. How could you have let him go? Why didn’t you stop him?”
President Mason should have gotten angry at her. He had come over to comfort her, and she had turned around and blamed him for his son’s death. President Mason’s eyes were still kind though. “I knew the importance of the mission. Who would I have sent instead?”
The tears that had threatened Taylor throughout the meeting came now. She couldn’t stop them. She wiped at her face and didn’t say anything else. She was horribly bad at giving condolences and apparently just as bad at accepting them. What she should have said was thank you. She wanted to say it, needed to say it, but somehow she could only stand there and cry.
President Mason turned to Sheridan as though this was any other conversation and it wasn’t awkward for Taylor to be silent and weeping. “Ren and Lee said you couldn’t sleep on the trip home. Would you like an appointment at the MedCenter? They could help find the problem.”
Sheridan shook her head. “I already know what the problem is. I just don’t know how to deal with it. How does a person forget being held captive for a month and a half?” She forced a smile. “Do they have memory washes that work in small increments?”
Sheridan was joking. Well, at least mostly joking. President Mason answered her seriously. “We don’t erase memories in Santa Fe. We learn from them. Remember your captivity in order to better cherish your freedom.”
He turned back to Taylor, putting his hand on her arm. “If you want to honor my son’s sacrifice, then this is what you need to do: live well.” He dropped his hand away from her arm. “I’d better go back to the council chamber now. We’re hearing the last arguments before we decide the issue of populating the new cities.” He glanced back at the building’s doors. “Ren and Lee are both urging the council to vote for keeping our diversity intact. I was surprised by that.”
President Mason turned to leave, had already taken a couple of steps away, before Taylor found her voice. “Thank you,” she called to him.
He looked over his shoulder at her, nodded, then went back into the council building.
Taylor and Sheridan headed down the walkway toward their apartment. Neither of them spoke. Finally Taylor told her what the apartment was like. “It will be odd,” she added, “to walk in and not see your stuff everywhere. But on the bright side, I already know where to find the things you’re going to want, so it shouldn’t take much time to rebuy all of them.” She reached for her comlink. “I can order your clothes right now if you’d like.”
“That’s okay,” Sheridan said. “Choosing things is half the fun. Besides,” she said with a curving smile, “I’m going to want some clothes that match whatever jewelry Joseph buys me.”
Taylor looked upward past the outlines of buildings. Traventon and Santa Fe had a lot of similarities: cars that ran on rails; tall, clean buildings; domes that covered the city. Santa Fe’s dome was clear, though, so that you could see the sky. She couldn’t believe what a difference that made—seeing the sky. Blue today with fat, bunchy clouds.
Taylor turned to her sister. “You’re not really going to make Joseph buy you jewelry, are you?”
Sheridan laughed and didn’t answer. Trees lined the walkway, and she kept reaching out and touching the leaves on the lower branches, fluttering them with her fingertips. She was enjoying them, Taylor knew, because she’d lived for a month and a half without them.
“Joseph feels so guilty,” Taylor said, “he’s probably already scrolling through settings with sapphires and emeralds.”
Sheridan smiled. “Eventually I’ll tell him just to live well, but maybe I’ll let him buy me some earrings first.”
Taylor smiled back at her. It was okay to smile. It was okay to look up and think that the clouds looked like piles of white pearls spilled into the sky. Happiness was part of living well.