Skyland One Read online

  Nothing makes sense.

  It really, really didn't.

  The more he thought about his situation, the less sense it made.

  Why not just burst in and arrest his father? Why not interrogate his father like they had interrogated him, like they had interrogated the poor old man? What did they need Harper for?

  "They trust you..." the transport worker had said.

  And they did. Surprisingly. Shockingly. Despite the wire and the sniper and the questions, they trusted him. They must. Otherwise, he'd be in a cell somewhere.

  But it didn't make sense.

  Zara.

  Harper tried to shake the questions out of his head. He didn't care. Not now. He just wanted to be done with it all and back on a ship to Den. To Zara.

  An hour later, the wire and the plastic bits clipped under his clothes seemed to burn against his skin. The sun was slipping behind the horizon, and the scorching heat of the day was fading into balmy night. Sweat still beaded on Harper's forehead. His feet were heavy, but they moved forward.

  One step, then another, then another, then another.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  in which there is light, but only barely...

  The sun was slipping behind the horizon. Inside and outside, the air had grown dim, but there was no candle lit in the house.

  When the door banged shut behind Harper, it was almost completely dark. Some grey light seeped in from the window on the far wall. But the window was covered with a long cloth, and the square of light that made it through the fabric was the only illumination.

  The dull light fell on a black shadow in the corner.

  In a stool facing the wall with the window, but not in front of the window, a bent man sat. His back curved over his chest, frail and concave beneath rounded shoulders. His knees were bent up over the level of the stool, so low it was almost on the floor. Stringy hair dripped down, covering more of his shoulders than his head. In the dim light, bald patches shone on the dark head. The old man sat on the stool not looking at anything but the wall, not moving anything but his chest as he breathed, air sighing in and out, in and out, shoulders rising and sinking slowly, again and again. In the near darkness, Harper thought he saw a bit of spit dripping from the corner of the old man's mouth, but it was too dark to tell for sure. It might have been a bit of food. Harper barely recognized the man. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

  "Father."

  He opened his eyes. The old man had not moved, not even to look up. He did not shift an inch, except for his chest breathing in and out, in and out. His eyes did not move from the wall. Harper swallowed. He clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes closed again, fought the trembling in his throat.

  "F-Father..."

  He heard no movement, no answer, no change in the dark house.

  "Father, please. It-it's Harper. Please..."

  He forced his eyes open. One foot hovered in the air, wanting and not wanting to step forward. One step. His feet dragged over the dirt floor. Another step.

  "Father..."

  He reached out a hand, but it only hovered over the old man's shoulder, not touching the rough shirt over the bent and bony back.

  "Father."

  Then his wrist was grabbed, twisted around. He twisted with it to save his arm from popping from its socket, twisted his torso along with his wrist held under a fierce grip, skin splitting under uncut nails, twisted along with his twisting arm and wrist, and he was turned around, his shoulder stayed in its socket but he thought for a second his wrist would snap anyway under the pressure of the hand crushing it.

  But the old man's grip weakened.

  The hand opened, releasing the twisted wrist, the arm, the torso that had followed the motion. Harper dropped to the ground, one hand pressed against the dirt floor, keeping himself from falling face down, the other hand hanging limp, throbbing. Bare feet, soundless over the dirt walked around in front of him and Harper looked up at his father.

  Finally, the old man looked at him, directly into his eyes, staring down at Harper on the floor. The anger, the hate twisted his face into a perfectly familiar mask.

  "Hello, Father."

  The old man stared down, his eyes dull pricks of light in the darkness. He did not speak. Harper sat back on his heels and rubbed his sore wrist and arm. The old man turned away.

  "Father..."

  His father walked back to wall where he'd sat, standing this time, again with his face to the wood boards.

  There was silence.

  "I am glad to find you alive," said Harper.

  The old man did not look around, and the growl of his voice was low, but when he spoke Harper caught every word.

  "You betrayed me."

  "I did my duty–"

  "Duty! You couldn't even–"

  "I did my duty for my wife! How could you ask me to throw our life away?" Harper felt burning tears in his eyes and squeezed them shut as the words tumbled out. "Not my life. Our life. Her life. To abandon her on this forsaken rock raking muck forever? How could you!"

  "You betrayed her."

  "I saved her from a life of a muck raking and hate."

  "You betrayed Her."

  Yes.

  Harper covered his closed eyes with one shaking hand, and bent his head. He knew who his father meant by Her. The exact same accusation had been circling in his own mind since he set foot on the flying abomination.

  He shook his head. He looked up, right into his father's eyes. "She can protect Herself. I betrayed no one."

  "Abomination."

  "Father...."

  "Abomination!"

  "I have been closer to Her than you can ever–"

  "I cannot look at Her!"

  "Father–"

  "I cannot look at Her!" His father's head swiveled on the shrunken neck, he looked towards the curtain covering the window. From the side, Harper thought he saw a tear in his father's eye. "I cannot–I cannot look at her."

  He sniffed.

  Then the old man was crying, tears running over the wrinkled face, a sobbing noise came from the twisted lips, rough and painful sounding, like the sobs were torn up from a sandy-dry throat.

  "I cannot look at her."

  "Father, please."

  The old man shook his head. "How could you?"

  "I couldn't... It was..." wrong.

  But the word had no meaning. Right, wrong – they had no meaning outside the mandates of the Sky. Harper looked away from the old man, the old shadow of his father, shrunken in barely a week.

  "The harm of going was less than the harm of staying and... a-and going through with it. Five thousand people, Father. Five thousand! They are alive because I went. Even if it wasn't... good..." Harper faltered. "It was better. It was good..." The words, the explanation of these notions – foreign to the cult of obedience – faltered. There was no language to explain it. Once, you didn't know the difference either, he reminded himself.

  His father was silent.

  "I am sorry." Harper's throat tightened with the same tortured sobs he'd heard from the old man, but he bit them back.

  He understood.

  He had once lived without question, without right or wrong outside of what the Sky wanted – or was said to want.

  I am sorry. He couldn't speak. His lips trembled with stifled sobs. I wanted to do right.

  Harper pushed himself up from the dirt floor. He turned his back on his father to hide the tears. He reached for a candle stub in a clunky metal holder and fought to refocus. He lit the candle. The light did not bring any cheer to the dark room.

  Get the information. For her.

  He closed his eyes and Zara's face shone on the blackness behind his lids. He opened his eyes and turned back to his father.

  In the candlelight his father looked like a completely different man from the one Harper had left only a few days before. The only thing recognizable was the mask of hate twisting the old face.

  How am I supposed to get information
from that? "Father, did you..." Harper shook his head at the futility of his question, but the wire and recording bits just under his shirt prodded him of why he was there. "Did you blow up the other ship?"

  He choked out what might have been a laugh. "Idiot!" He spat on the ground. "Would I be here if I had?"

  "You know what I mean. I know it was the Sky-Reverends. And I know you must have been part of it after I didn't... after I..." betrayed you. "...after I failed. Who did you get to do it?"

  "They chose themselves."

  "Who?"

  "I don't know."

  He's telling the truth. Harper felt sick. "You don't even... you don't even know who they are." He shook his head in disbelief. Would he have known my name if I weren't his own son? "How can you be so heartless? We were taught they were heroes! And you cannot even name them."

  "Not to a traitor!"

  "I am not–"

  "Abandoner!"

  "I did not abandon any–"

  "Where is your wife? Harper, where is she?"

  "She is safe."

  "She is abandoned."

  "No–"

  "You abandoned her, too. Like you did the Sky, like you did the planet, like you did your own father."

  "No–"

  "You took your wife out from under they Sky and abandoned her in the blackness of space."

  "She will be safe on Den."

  "Den? In Union Proper? Pah!" He spat again on the dirt floor. "Forsaken planets! Better to have left her here under the protection of the Sky and done your duty."

  "There are Skies on other planets."

  His father's hand shot out, the old man's fist connected and Harper's head snapped sideways.

  "Shut your blasphemous mouth!"

  "There are. Ours is not the only–"

  "Traitor. Traitor."

  "I am not... father, I am not. I... I saw her. I was there, in the Sky." But she was not. There was only blackness. He squashed that memory down. "Let me... let me prove it to you." He gritted his teeth against the lie.

  "You have already proven where you stand."

  "Look I-I," he flailed around for the words, "I made a mistake."

  His father snorted.

  "No," Harper persisted. "You don't understand. Look, I'm not here to talk about what I didn't do. I'm here to get help for what I will do."

  His father looked up. His eyes were narrowed, his teeth clicked together, agitated. He said nothing.

  "They were keeping me in one of their ships. Like... like a prisoner. I... made a mistake," he said again.

  "You brought it on yourself."

  "Whatever I deserve, Skyland does not deserve to be held hostage. Whatever you think of me, I am not that kind of traitor."

  "A traitor is a traitor."

  "No. I am still a Skylander. I will not live in a Union prison on my own planet. Father..."

  His father glared.

  "Father, I will not destroy Skylanders. But these are not Skylanders. Their ship – the Union's... Let me destroy it."

  His father squinted at him, head tilted, considering.

  Harper stepped forward towards his father, slowly, carefully. Again one hand reached out and slowly, carefully he put a hand on the old man's shoulder.

  "I am not that kind of traitor," Harper hissed. "Let me destroy their ship. Let me destroy it and redeem myself."

  His father shook his head. "You have been where you should not. You have trespassed against Her heavens."

  "And Her forgiveness is up to Her. But what about yours?"

  "Mine..."

  "Can you forgive me?"

  "If I believed you, I could."

  "I will do it, then. I will go to the dirt stores. The Union soldiers, if they find me, will not think anything of a little soil in my pockets. When you see their ship in flames, then will you consider forgiveness?"

  A heartbeat passed. Then another.

  The old man nodded. "Maybe."

  Maybe. And that is good enough... Harper closed his eyes. "Do you promise?"

  The old man hissed.

  "Do you promise, Father? To consider it? To consider forgiveness? If I destroy the ship?"

  Another hiss. Then, "Yes."

  "Then I will do it."

  Harper turned away from the old man and opened the door.

  For a moment, there was a dim glow on the ground outside from the candle-lit shack. Before the door shut, the glow went out as the candle was extinguished. Then the door banged shut behind him. Harper looked around. Somewhere in the dark country there was a sniper hiding, with him in the crosshairs.

  Or more likely, there was no sniper.

  Because they knew he wasn't a threat. Just like they knew he was on the first ship.

  He was not the only traitor on Skyland.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  in which there is light...

  The walk back to the base was dark but not lonely.

  Harper could feel the eyes of the hidden Union troops on him. Maybe through the crosshairs of a sniper rifle. Maybe through the windows of the planes whizzing above. They might as well have been walking beside him.

  Didn't matter.

  The night was quiet and dim and empty. No one stepped out from the shadows. No one shouted or came to talk to him. Harper paused for a moment at the edge of his village. He stood in the dimming light of evening and looked around and listened.

  Somewhere a door snicked shut.

  A stair creaked.

  A baby wailed, then was hushed.

  In the corner of his eye, a shadow walked, then disappeared.

  Then there was nothing. No one.

  Harper stood for another moment at the edge of the quiet village road. And then, slowly, he began the walk back to the base. Alone. Just as he had walked away from it an hour before.

  "We're going to have a sniper on you, in and out of there" the angry man had said.

  Harper's eyes kept darting left and right to the growing shadows, kept flicking upward to the ships above, kept whispering snidely in his mind at the invisible Union soldiers watching him.

  Come on out, why don't you?

  But he was glad no one stepped out to accompany him. Of course it would have been stupid – what would happen if his father or another Sky Reverend were watching from the shadows? What if they decided on a confrontation with the invaders? With the Reverends' hatred of off-world soldiers, Harper did not want to see the two come face to face.

  And he was glad to be alone.

  He was glad of the open air around him. He was glad of the wide Sky above his head and the barren countryside stretching out around him. He was glad of the hot whisper of a breath of wind, cooling ever so slightly in the absence of the sun's rays.

  As he walked, he craned his neck, tilting his face up to the Sky.

  Are you there?

  The Sky was deep blue-purple now, the stars beginning to wink into sight. As he looked into the deep helm of nighttime, Harper's heart swelled. Flying in the emptiness of space, hovering over the clouds, piercing the heavens in the abominable machines, it was easy to forget the Sky. He felt closer to Her here than he had flying. Here under Her beautiful fields, the fields he could see, under the pinpricks of light, the lights he could see, it was easy to feel Her beautiful presence.

  She is here... She is here. Maybe not in space. But here. Thank you for watching me.

  He stumbled a bit as he walked, looking up and ignoring his feet. He turned his attention back to walking, but he could still feel the presence above watching over him.

  She is here.

  The giant needle-ship that served as the base loomed ahead. Then the fence around it resolved in the dark.

  Harper glanced at the guard who stepped silently aside and let him pass. A few moments later, he was inside. The door slammed behind him.

  The glow of artificial light assaulted his eyes. He blinked a few times and kept his eyes down. The gentle light in here was not comforting – it did not come from the Sky. He w
alked around corner after corner, headed to the tiny room.

  They can come find me if they want.

  Still no one approached him and he walked through the quiet halls alone.

  "That was less than useful."

  Harper jumped at the voice. He looked up from his footsteps. The angry man, glared at him from the doorway of the tiny room. Harper's steps faltered. Then he pushed past the soldier and collapsed onto the bed.

  "Less than useful?" He spoke to the ceiling. "The dirt stores are in the same place. As for the rest of the information... No one tells a traitor anything."

  He sat up. His head dropped into his hands, he didn't want to look at the angry man leaning against the doorframe. There were footsteps, and Harper looked up. A tall soldier, wide in the shoulders and well-muscled stood in the hall opposite the door. He smiled. He leaned a long rifle against the wall.

  Huh. So there was a sniper.

  The angry man whispered something to him. Harper didn't catch it. The other soldier smiled wider and left, taking the weapon with him.

  The angry man turned back to Harper.

  "That was not useful. That was not all we wanted. We were listening, did you forget? You will have to go again. You did not even tr–"

  "I told you I would tell you about the dirt stores. That I would help with the weapons. Not the people. Now I have."

  "You don't even know that! You didn't ask!"

  "I know because my father would have me use them. It is the only thing he would see as reconciliation. I know. They are in the same place."

  "The place you pointed out on the map?"

  "Yes."

  "You know that for sure?"

  "Yes." He would have told me otherwise... to give me the chance to redeem myself.

  "Is that all there is? In the stores you know?"

  "Yes." Harper looked down at his fingers, interlocked on his knees in front of him.

  The angry man turned to leave. He spoke into a phone for a moment, again too quiet for Harper to catch the words.

  They will destroy the ships. "Wait."

  The angry man turned around. "Yes?"

  "Those aren't the only ones I know of."

  "The only weapons?"

  "There are other stores of the dirt. The ones I showed you, that is the biggest collection, but there is some elsewhere, too."