0 grams flash dust
THERE IS SOMETHING about gliding to certain death. It’s serene and catastrophic at the same time. I run a list of possible escape options through my mind, but in the end, I’m powerless to do anything but float from the sky like a broken bird, right into the waiting circle of Striders.
My legs buckle when I touch ground. I don’t even try to get up when the soldiers cut my pack loose. I press my hands into the grass, feeling it, sun-warmed and verdant, before they—
I’m yanked to my feet with grumbles of “let’s go, Subpar,” and steered aboard the craft. I tip my head back, watching the sky as long as I can, for a last glimpse—
The hatch shuts, sealing me inside.
“Welcome back,” Cranny says.
I make a sound of shock. How? my mind screams.
“You’re running out of cordons to send me to,” I say, working to hide my despair. I collapse onto a seat.
“The commissary sent me to collect you,” he says.
A week ago, Cranny’s inflated self-importance would’ve annoyed me. Now I just feel empty. Where’s Dram? Did he make it?
“You have a talent for survival, Scout,” Cranny says.
I don’t trust myself to speak. Right now I’m wishing I had Bade’s talent for fireballs.
“Alara has further need of your service.”
“I would rather run toward the flash curtain.” I don’t recognize my voice. Steel laced with venom. Dram would tell me to tread lightly. He’d remind me that Cranny holds the power here.
“Ah, defiant to the end,” Cranny says. “You’re not the one heading toward the curtain, though. We picked up Dram not far from here.”
I thought I was beyond feeling. I was wrong. Anguish grips me. “What do you want?”
“First, let me tell you what I’m willing to offer. Dram will be spared the flash curtain. He will be taken to Alara.”
I’m glad I’m sitting. I feel like I’m dropping from the Skimmer again.
“You told us there are no Subpars in the city.”
“I’ll have his Radband carefully removed. The Congress will find a place for him.”
Dram will be safe. Free.
“And me?”
“You will return to Outpost Five.” My head spins as his statement crashes down on me. “You are the best ore scout we’ve ever had. Your team brought up more cirium in one day than any outpost ever.”
“People’s lives were at stake.”
Cranny smirks. “They will be this time, too. Dram is safe as long as you continue to impress Jameson.”
“But we’ve already mined nine.”
“We’ve expanded it.”
Something in my expression makes him smile. “Yes, there have been a few changes at Outpost Five while you’ve been sifting sand in the cordons. Seems the last batch of cirium was different. It’s something Jameson wants—enough to find you and bring you back.”
“Will I…” I have to clear my throat. “Will I be able to earn my four hundred grams again?”
“Of course. The Congress is nothing if not fair.”
“Fair,” I whisper. The word hesitates on my tongue, like a flavor I’m tasting for the first time. I try to process the turn my future has taken. Tunnel nine. Outpost Five.
“You’re only seventeen, Orion. You might actually stand a chance at earning four Rays again.”
I had turned seventeen. In all my efforts to survive the cordons, I didn’t even think about my birthday. I let my mind mull this thought because the rest is … inconceivable. It makes me want to tell him no, and then Dram will die.
“I’ll do it,” I murmur. My voice sounds like it’s coming from a long way off. I force myself to hold Cranny’s dark gaze. “Under one condition.”
* * *
Dram is standing in a ring of Striders when the Skimmer comes for him. He cranes his neck, searching for me. Cranny grasps my arm, and it’s that motion that draws Dram’s attention. His eyes widen, and I can tell the exact curse words he’s using.
I wish I could explain, but it’s not part of Cranny’s arrangement—neither is saying good-bye. There’s no point, anyway. Dram can’t know what I’ve done to buy his freedom. It would destroy him. I soak in the sight of him, knowing this is the last time I will ever see him.
I made an addendum to Cranny’s agreement. If I die down the tunnels, he cannot revoke the protection he’s extended to Dram. What he and Jameson don’t realize is that, without Dram, I won’t survive nine. As Dad said, he is part of what makes me strong.
Pain knifes through my heart at the thought of Dad. He was the condition. By the time the hover lands at Outpost Five, Dad will already be gone, taken to the protected city. Free.
As much as I’d like to see him again, to spend my remaining days with him, I will not force him to watch the charade I’m playing with Cranny. Nor will he have to light my pyre when I’m taken by nine. The other cavers will honor my Burning Day. Dad will never wear my ashes.
The Striders force Dram into the Skimmer.
“Orion!” he shouts. I can’t breathe past the weight in my chest. He fights against the soldiers, and they knock him to the floor. He’s still shouting my name as the doors close.
“Time to go home,” Cranny says, steering me toward the hover.
I watch Dram’s craft disappear into the sky.
I’ll never be home again.