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As soon as we got back, Pops charted the airship’s course to South Africa. We held an impromptu meeting in the gym. Inese explained the situation—and suggested under no uncertain terms that we should leave well enough alone and get out while we could.
“We can’t leave the baby there.” I closed my hands into fists. “What if it grows up to be Camaraderie, or what if they turn it into a beastie, too?”
“Baby?” Quin asked sharply. “They’re having a child?”
I nodded.
He sucked his lower lip, his eyes darting between me and Inese. “We should try to rescue it if the chance arises,” he said to the rest of the group. Though Lance puckered at the prospect, warmth spread through me. Someone agreed.
“Not going to happen,” Inese said simply. “There’s no way they escaped the Legion Spore if that thing captured them.”
“We should still try to rescue them,” I protested. “Tim obviously knows something about the time stones and how they work. You guys want to use the time stones, right?” I looked around the room and caught Lance’s gaze. He shook his head as if he didn’t want to continue this conversation.
Actually, thanks to the flower charm, I knew that for a fact.
“We know that there’s a time stone in D.C., and another one somewhere in India,” I continued flatly. “We know the stones have spirit-based guardians. According to Lily’s alchemist friend, we know there’s a good chance those guardians were artificially created—but most alchemists don’t know how to create a spirit. So even if we do manage to get the stones, then what? We can’t rely on Spectator to show up and help us, and we’re not even sure what he wants from us. Tim is the most likely person who can figure out how the stones work. We need to try to save him.”
“He betrayed us,” Lance said flatly.
I looked toward Pops, blood rising to my cheeks. “Even if Tim did betray us, now that he’s dealt with the Legion Spore, maybe he’s realized how bad the Camaraderie is. He likes the Community as much as I do. He wouldn’t want to put it in danger. We need to save him.”
Pops tapped his cane on the floor and the commotion quieted. “We can’t get the stones without knowing where they are, or without having the manpower to retrieve them. Right now, they’re out of reach. But we’ll put this to a vote. If the opportunity arises, should we continue pursuing the time stones?”
Though my vote was reluctant, the consensus was a unanimous “yes.”
As for Tim...
Lily, Quin, and I voted to rescue him if the opportunity arose. Gwen abstained.
Everyone else voted “no.”
The next day, Lily and I devoted most of our time to playing the dancing game. Loud music distracted me from the team’s refusal to help someone in need, at least until the evening meeting, when Pops announced that, according to a rebel cell in southern Canada, the Camaraderie had moved the time stone from Washington D.C. and we had no clue as to where they had moved it.
I spent the next week training and arguing that we should try rescuing Tim, if only for his child’s sake, and working unsuccessfully with Gwen to remove the memory seeds.
Unfortunately, every time she almost had a hold on them, the memory seeds attacked her. Actually removing the seeds seemed more and more unlikely.
In my spare time I tried to make sense of that confounded book the missionary gave me. But none of it made sense. Nothing in the book even vaguely related to the time stones. I finally gave up trying to understand it on my own and made my way up the stairs to Jim’s room. He was reading the same thick book he’d been reading the last few times—which, come to think of it, looked like a larger version of the book I’d been trying to read.
He motioned to the door behind me and it shut softly. “How can I help?”
I sat across from him. “What are you reading?”
“The Bible. It is an old book, dating back to fourteen hundred B.C.”
“B.C.?” The abbreviation was in Jim’s textbook, but I hadn’t quite figured out what it meant.
“Before Christ. AD is anno Domini, and means ‘in the year of our Lord’ in Latin. I’m surprised the Community did not teach B.C. to mean ‘Before Community.’ ” His lip twitched.
“We had BCE and CE,” I said simply. “None of my teachers ever explained their origin, though.” I clasped my hands together and took a deep breath. “But that’s not why I came here. I keep hearing talk about deities and different religions, and I’ve determined it has some connection with the time stones and their powers, but I can’t figure out what. Studying this book hasn’t helped. So... what exactly is religion?” I went on to explain my experience in Egypt with the family who sheltered us, and showed him the book the missionary gave me.
He smiled, flipping through the book’s frail pages before handing it back. “A religion is a set of beliefs regarding the nature of the universe. It encompasses the practices of a culture, and the morals that the people of that culture put their faith in. Some, like myself, believe in a single god that created the universe. Others believe in a unifying force of nature. Still others hold no faith at all.”
“And others believe in a pair of gamemasters.” I rubbed the pebbly texture of the missionary’s book between my fingers. “In all of these cases, it seems unlikely that the universe could be created out of nothing.”
“Says the person who did not know that powers existed.” Jim smiled gently. “Religion gives people a foundation on which to base their lives. Until the Community, religion existed in every part of the world.”
“What happened?”
“The Camaraderie decided the only way to take complete control of a population was to eradicate anything that might counter their rule. They claimed religion was inefficient and said that those who believed in a higher power had theophrenia. Once the Super Bureau realized what was going on, we tried to resist. But Lord Black and his followers were too strong.” Jim sighed and rubbed his temples. “The Camaraderie cared nothing for our beliefs, our god, or our faith. They only cared that religion was a threat to their rule, because those with deeply engrained beliefs will fight for those beliefs, no matter the cost.”
I frowned. “Were those beliefs efficient?” I held up the small book. “I’ve tried to make sense of this, but it sounds completely counterintuitive, not conducive to an efficient society.”
Jim traced the gilded spine of his book. “All beginnings are rough. Mistakes are made. People listen to the wrong voices. The book you have, the New Testament, speaks of forgiveness. Before that, it was an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Then Christ came, preaching about the forgiveness of sins. People liked that they could have a personal connection to their god, a way to find peace and forgiveness.”
“The sphinx didn’t seem very forgiving. Neither did the dragon.”
“Neither are gods.”
I twisted my lips. Since the guardians didn’t seem to have created anything, I guess he had a point. “If a god wanted something done specifically, like what it says in this book, then why not just do it? Why not change everything to make it the way they want?”
Jim let out a slow sigh. “That is a question that many a preacher has prayed they could give an answer for. The bane of religion. But God...” He licked his lips, as if trying to find some way to explain himself. “God wants to give us a choice. To let us determine good and evil for ourselves.”
“That’s not efficient.”
“Efficiency isn’t everything, Jenna.”
“Besides, how does anyone know what’s really right or wrong?” I protested. “I mean, we could try applying the scientific method. It’s the most efficient means we currently have of testing anything. Did the person who wrote this book not have anything like the scientific method? Because it doesn’t seem logical at all. Or did they have an ulterior motive, like our Community textbooks? Some books do lie... or they tell a different truth.” I paused. “My Community textbook was wrong. It makes sense, then, that other sources might be wrong as well. Isn’t that why there’s so much fighting? Because everyone seems to have different ideas of right and wrong, good and evil?”
Jim took a long, deep breath before exhaling it slowly. “That plays a role, yes.”
“Then how do we know what’s real? How do we know what we should do?” I clenched my fists, thinking of how Quin had explained his job as a mercenary and how what he did made sense. My flower charm tickled my skin. Those thugs who attacked me and Lance in Singapore had been quite assured of themselves, even when they were so intent on harming us and the innocent women.
Regardless of the brain seed’s intervention, had I been wrong to want to kill them? To do so? The Community was safe, secure, and efficient. The Community made sense in a way that the outside world did not, a way that the messy, convoluted life of the rebels never could. And yet...
The Community felt wrong, too.
The Community was supposed to be safe for everyone—that’s what we were taught—but in reality, it was only safe for certain people. It was efficient to remove those who might cause trouble before they did, but those people were let down. The Community had failed them.
My flower charm was a burning reminder of that. A constant, terrible reminder that I had to change the Community. I had hoped the time stones would help, but...
“You are projecting your thoughts again,” Jim said softly.
I blinked. “I am?”
He inclined his head. “You would do well to learn forgiveness, Jenna. You have a vengeful streak that could hurt you.”
My leaves bristled. “What are you talking about?”
“You are brooding on the falsehoods of the Community. That is understandable, but you hate Lady Winters, and the men who attacked you in Singapore. In the past, you have shown your hatred of Val. Such anger can hurt you, not just the ones you hate.”
“You saw that?” I whispered, horrified. “You saw the Singapore memory?”
He nodded sadly. My chest constricted. I sank into my chair. Gwen knew, and Lance knew, but I hadn’t told anyone else the details. I didn’t want anyone else to know.
“Val seduced Tim and made him steal the car,” I said quickly, trying to distract myself. “Lady Winters hurt Gwen and me, and lied about what she was doing in the Community.” I rubbed my arms, trying to quiet my rattling leaves.
“And the thugs?”
I stared at the geometric designs on the floor. “That was the brain seed.”
“Do not let hate consume you, Jenna. Hate leads to—”
“If you’re going to quote the little green guy from the space movie, I’d like to point out that a lot of problems could have been avoided if everyone would have just talked to each other.”
Jim cleared his throat. “Like discussing your feelings after a particularly stressful fight?”
“I...” I rubbed my neck sheepishly. “You might have a point.”
He smiled. “Have you talked to Gwen about it?”
“Yes. But it feels so... wrong. I don’t like her seeing what I felt.”
“No one likes to show their vulnerable side. But we are human. We all have a weakness.” He patted the book on his desk. “That is why some of us put faith in books like these. They help us be better than what we are, and to see past the mistakes of others.” Jim gave my chin a telekinetic nudge. “Look at me.” He smiled. “You are not the only one to make mistakes. As the Coalition, we are reminded of that every day.”
“What do you mean?”
Jim removed a binder from the bookshelf beside him, then extracted a folded piece of paper from inside. He handed it to me, his expression solemn. “Do you recognize this?
I unfolded the paper. My throat went dry. It was a grainy photograph, a bit dark, but the features were clear. A naked woman lay strapped against an oblong metal table. Her arms were raised above her head, and she was covered in bruises, cuts, and large welts that crisscrossed her body. She looked off camera, her body contorted against the restraints. Blood streamed from a cut in her forehead, but she laughed, her eyes wild. Everything had a bluish cast to it, and she looked pale from blood loss.
I quickly handed the photo back to Jim. “Clara,” I whispered.
He nodded. “She made mistakes as well, but in the end she did the right thing. She helped those who needed assistance, at the cost of her own life, when the Camaraderie decided they would send us a message about what happens to those who resist them. We sent one right back. Forever tortured, forever defiant.”
I raised an eyebrow. Our symbol was a lady being tortured. I’d known that early on, but I’d never seen the actual photograph. “So we’re sending them a message that we’re crazy?”
Jim closed the binder and slid it back on the shelf. “No. We’re sending them the message that we will be defiant to the end. No matter what they do, we will hold true to our beliefs.” He paused as his tablet beeped.
“But I don’t know what to believe,” I protested. “What if going after the time stones isn’t the right thing to do? What if using them undermines everything you’ve just said?”
“Do you believe we need to stop the Legion Spore?”
“Yes. And we need to save Tim.”
Jim had been the one to mention forgiveness. He shrugged. “Start there.” He glanced at his tablet. “If I am not mistaken, Pops has information about a new mission which may help us continue to send that message of defiance or prevent the need for that message altogether. I suggest you find Lance and head to the command room.”
“All right.” I stood. Still... My thoughts flashed back to the image of Clara in her final moments. Forever tortured, forever defiant.
But how could we be defiant if we didn’t know we could have made that choice?
