Chapter 12 #2
“She thinks it’s funny,” he sighs, talking over me as if I’m not asphyxiating. “She’ll send six hundred at a time, always in a clear container so there’s no hiding the contents, and in big red letters on the top she’ll write, Be safe.”
“No,” I croak. “Is that a pun?”
“It’s irredeemable.” But his expression is wistful. “I don’t see my parents much. We’re from Planet Urporator, which is about as far away from Skyhub as you can get. But we keep in touch.”
“With condoms,” I manage.
“With condoms,” Lament agrees. He peers at me, and I already know what’s coming. “Who’s Master Ira?”
Under different circumstances, I would evade the question.
I don’t talk about the Master, the children’s home, my mom—any of it.
As far as anyone’s concerned, I basically started existing the day I walked through the Academy’s doors.
But now Lament is here, telling me about his life and asking about mine.
Who is Master Ira? Such an innocent question. Such a complicated one. I juggle a bunch of replies, but the answer ends up being pretty simple. “He’s the man who raised me.”
Lament doesn’t really react at first. Just sits with that information. “Your parents?”
“Dead,” I say, because that’s what I’ve always said, though as soon as the words are out, I feel a kick of guilt. I never knew my father, and maybe he really is dead, though I sort of doubt it. As for my mom … last I saw, she was very much alive.
I open my mouth to correct myself, but as always, I can’t quite make my tongue work. Instead, I pull my necklace out from under my shirt. “My mom gave this to me.”
“Your lifestone?”
I’m not surprised he didn’t buy my it’s-not-a-lifestone story. Lament isn’t stupid, and anyway, there’s really no mistaking it for anything else. “Yeah.”
Lament reaches out to touch the necklace, but my mind sidesteps, and suddenly I think he’s going to touch me. In the end, though, he does neither. Merely drops the hand and looks thoughtful. “Do you believe the legend about lifestones?”
“Do you?”
“No.” His answer is emphatic.
“Lament.” I falter. “Moon Dancer is made of zurillium.”
“So?”
“The crash. You survived. That shouldn’t have been possible.”
“I was lucky.”
“You said Moon Dancer was a gift from Bast’s family.
If they gave him the spacecraft, and then he gave it to you, doesn’t it make sense it might have protected you?
That’s how lifestones work. When you love someone, you give them a lifestone, and it’s like giving them a part of your soul.
It can protect them—save them—in moments of danger. ”
“It’s a fairy tale, Hartman.”
I tuck my necklace away. Maybe he’s right, maybe it’s just a story. So why have I never been able to let go of the hope that there’s some truth to the legend?
“Master Ira would agree with you,” I admit. “He didn’t put much belief in the supernatural. He was a member of the Order. I know you’ve probably never heard of them—”
“I have, actually.”
“Right.” I huff. “Forgot who I was talking to.”
He rolls his eyes. “Go on.”
“Masters of the Order have strong views about the meaning of life. Aside from their initiation on Mount Kilmon—which, I don’t know, it seems like they didn’t really think that part through—they don’t believe in violence of any kind. Definitely not killing.”
“And you wanted to be a gunner.”
“Yeah, I…” I have to clear my throat. “Even after Master Ira took me in … I mean, I was just a kid when my parents—um, died—and I felt so helpless. Always. All the time. It was like, no matter how okay things were going, I couldn’t shake the feeling something awful was about to happen.”
His eyes soften. “That must have been difficult.”
“It was. Then I turned ten, and someone sent me a ray gun wrapped in an Academy recruiting pamphlet. No name on the gift, no return address. I’d never held a gun before.
Wasn’t really into weapons. But when I took it into my hands, it was like I could breathe again.
That was it for me, pretty much. I became obsessed.
Started spending every free hour practicing in secret, reading up on technique.
More recruitment pamphlets would come in the mail—you know the ones?
—and even though they were addressed to Master Ira, I’d swipe them from the pile.
It got me thinking about the kind of future available for someone like me, and that only made me more determined.
I know there are a ton of great Legion prep schools all around the galaxy, but the Academy has the best gunner program, and that’s where I wanted to go. I applied as soon as I turned sixteen.”
“And they accepted you?”
“Not right away. No sponsor, remember? They declined my application, so I took my savings, flew to Planet Uru, and demanded an entry test. When they saw what I could do, they accepted me on the spot.” It’s one of the few things I’m really proud of.
How I fought for my chance at the Academy and earned it.
Lament has kicked off his shoes and tucked both legs up under him. He looks relaxed, despite the fact that he’s basically still fully dressed. I wish he’d unbutton his cuffs, roll up his sleeves, but I guess if I’m going to crack Lament’s shell, it’ll be one article of clothing at a time.
“What about Master Ira?” he asks.
“The Master was hoping I’d join his ranks in the Order.
He even started training me in the Three Pillars—the Order’s ways.
When I chose the Academy instead, he was stunned.
Like I’d twisted his teachings and used them for evil.
He probably regrets ever admitting me into his children’s home, and I can’t say I blame him.
I’m a paid fighter now. I’ll take lives, if the Legion requires it.
It goes against everything Master Ira believes. We haven’t spoken since.”
Lament’s eyebrows make sharp little arches. “So Professor Morton wasn’t lying about that part.”
“No.”
“And … you’ve tried contacting Master Ira?”
“Many times, actually. He’s never replied.”
I’ve sent the Master dozens of messages over the years. At first, I thought he just needed time to come to terms with my decision. Then I began to suspect the truth—that he’d written me out of his life for good.
I should have expected it. He’d been too forgiving already.
And yet, as the weeks wore into months that wore into years, I couldn’t stop reaching out.
I wanted him to understand. Wanted him to look at me the way he had the first time he’d found me with a ray gun and said, I am not leaving you behind.
I used to call him after a hard day at the Academy, or a good one.
Leave a voice message, even though I never heard back.
Hey, Master Ira. I placed first in this year’s fitness test …
Master Ira, hi, I know you probably aren’t listening to these, but I won Best All-Around Cadet …
Hi, Master Ira, sorry to bug you again, I just—sorry …
Lament’s shifting on the couch like he wants to get up and pace. “Sounds rather self-righteous of the man, especially coming from someone who preaches understanding. He runs a children’s home.”
“If you knew him, you’d get it.”
“I doubt that.”
“I’ve put it behind me. It’s fine. Really.”
Lament’s face is taut, his brows gathered, mouth turned down sort of … protectively? Which is doing strange things to my insides.
I cast about for something to say and land on, “Is that the time?”
Lament looks at the clock and blinks, like he’s as surprised by the hour as I am. It’s three in the morning. “I didn’t realize…” He bites the inside of his cheek. “I should probably go. And you should get some sleep.”
Disappointment froths in my belly. “Yeah. Okay. You too,” I add when he’s already halfway to the door. “You’re not going to work on Moon Dancer tonight, right? You need sleep, too.”
He just gives me this small smile and exits, clicking the latch softly behind him.