Kingdom of Cages (70 page)

He passed through it all, focused only on telling his family the truth of what had happened, and what was going to happen.
He would help his family.

“Tam.” Father Mihran got to his feet and circled the table. “We are glad to have you back. You need—”

“I need to tell you what happened.” Tam grasped the father’s hand. He was shaking again. He wished he could stop that. “Please,
Father.”

“Father—” began Senior Dreas.

Father Mihran waved him silent. “What is your message, Tam?”

Tam released Father Mihran’s hand and sank to his knees so he could touch the command board set into the committee table.
As he worked the keys, he wondered again where Aleph was. She had not spoken to him since he entered the complex and although
he had been able to stop himself from calling for her, he had not been able to stop himself from wondering where her attention
was. What had she told the other cities about him? Did she approve of what was happening here? Was he doing the right thing?
The doubts and the guilt would not leave him alone.

I am telling my family the truth,
Tam reminded himself.
Aleph must approve. Aleph is the one who has always helped me.

Tam touched the monitor glass at his right to set it to reception mode.

The glass filled with colors, which split into two halves. One half coalesced to show Beleraja Poulos sitting in a tiny office
aboard Athena Station. The other showed the car of the space cable, with Chena and Teal Trust flanking the stooped figure
of Nan Elle.

“Commander Poulos,” Father Mihran said, not bothering to salute. “We have been waiting to hear from you.” He squared his shoulders.
“We understand your people are en route.” He peered at the tableau on the left side of the glass. Tam wondered if the father
understood everything he saw. Aleph most certainly did, but Aleph was still keeping her silence.

Beleraja shook her head. “My people are here, and we have something of yours.” She nodded toward the other half of the screen.
Nan Elle reached behind herself and brought out a slim, dirty boy of about five years old. “This is your Eden.”

Outraged voices rang out behind him. “Impossible!”

“How could they!”

“It’s a fake! A mock-up!”

“No,” said Tam quietly to Father Mihran. “That is the Eden Project.” Now they knew everything. Almost everything. They did
not yet know how the project had been found. Did not yet know of Dionte’s plans, and how badly they had failed. Tears prickled
Tam’s eyes for his lost sister.

Beside him, Father Mihran’s jaw twitched, as if he were fighting to keep back the words he knew he must speak. “What do you
want?”

Nan Elle patted Eden’s hand and walked him toward the edge of the screen, moving him out of camera range.

Only when the child was out of sight did Beleraja speak again. “I want to make an end to the Diversity Crisis, Father Mihran,”
she said matter-of-factly. “A real, viable end. I want you to let the Called come to Pandora.”

“Never,” snapped the father instantly.

Beleraja betrayed no surprise at that curt answer. Why should she? She was an experienced trader as well as a commander. She
knew very well how this game was played.

But did she know she was treading on holy ground here? Tam felt his stomach knot. Did she know how long and how hard their
people had worked to keep Pandora inviolate? Even now, all the endless repetitions of protection rang around his tired head
and he felt his strength to resist them crumbling.

Where are you, Aleph?
He rubbed his temple.
I need your help. You helped me be strong before. I need you now.

Beleraja leaned in closer to the screen. In the cable car, Teal Trust clenched her fists and her jaw.
What are you holding in?
he wondered.
What voices are calling to you?

“What do you think is going to happen when we tell the Authority that the cure does not exist?” Beleraja asked Father Mihran.
“That you have nothing except one five-year-old boy to show for all your promised work?”

“They will see that the boy will answer.” Pride drew Father Mihran’s shoulders back even farther. It was not possible that
his family should fail, that the results of their slow, patient, meticulous work should be anything but perfect.

“No,” said Beleraja. “The boy will not be exploited. Neither will his sisters. That is not an option.”

“There is no other option,” said Father Mihran slowly, as if explaining the obvious. “There is no other cure.”

“Yes, there is. The Called can come here.” Beleraja pointed toward the floor.

“We will not let that happen. Pandora must be protected.”

“Pandora must be protected!” shouted Senior Jahn, and a dozen other voices echoed her words, including his own, Tam realized,
as he fell back into his sitting position.
Aleph, help me. I’m losing my grip.…

Now it was Beleraja’s turn to make a show of patience. She sighed sadly and shook her head. “You cannot protect Pandora,”
she said, sounding more like a mother now than a commander. “We’ve just proven that. We are here and we have already claimed
what we wanted.” The steel returned to her voice and her face. “You can’t stand against even one family. How will you manage
if the whole Authority turns against you?”

“They are still riding the cable, Father,” said Senior Jahn. “We can call it back, have a troop of constables waiting for
her.”

“Do it,” said Father Mihran. “We are reclaiming Eden, Commander. If any of your people try to interfere again, they will die
for their trespasses.”

“No,” said Aleph.

“Aleph?” Father Mihran turned toward the city’s voice, complete disbelief showing on his face.

Aleph manifested an image on the nearest wall, a mature woman, straight-backed and square-faced, in a black jacket and white
trousers. She looked a bit like Beleraja, Tam thought.

“She is speaking the truth,” said Aleph calmly. “We cannot protect Pandora by preventing the Called from coming here. We must
allow this. Only when the fear is gone will we have peace.”

“Aleph, this is not—” began Father Mihran.

But Aleph did not seem to hear him. “I speak with the other cities as I speak with you. We are working out formulas for population
distribution that will allow maximum genetic exchange and minimum territorial overpopulation.” Aleph bowed her head, as if
under the weight of the necessities facing her. “Pandora will change, but Pandora will live and be protected. There will be
no reason to attack us. The Called will eventually be resettled.”

“No,” said Father Mihran, but his voice wavered. “Aleph, this cannot be the answer.”

“It is all the answer we have,” she said. “Please, do not turn me away. Let me help my family as I was meant to.”

Father Mihran watched the image of his city for a moment, but then he slashed his hand through the air. “I’m sorry, Aleph.
We cannot permit this.” All the seniors murmured their agreement with Father Mihran’s dismissal. “Aleph, we respect you, but
this is not a matter for you and the cities.…”

They hesitated and Tam felt himself smile in sad sympathy. He knew what was happening. He could practically hear.
It is wrong to argue with your city,
said all their Consciences.
Your city is taking care of you. That is what your cities are for. You must work with your city. To do otherwise is wrong.
Why are you doing this?

In the midst of their guilty silence, Aleph spoke again. “We are your cities. It is our job to protect you, as it is your
job to protect Pandora. I cannot let you injure yourself in your zeal.” The image looked past the father to Beleraja. “Bring
us your plans, Commander. We must begin work at once.”

Beleraja inclined her head once and then moved her hand to the command board. The connection cut and the images faded to black,
fading the Trusts, around whom so many plans had been woven, to insubstantial ghosts, setting them free like wild birds that
could not be controlled or predicted in duress, even after a thousand years of observation and understanding.

Leaving Tam alone with what remained of his family, of himself, and of his city. Alone, with nothing but a whole new world
of their making. A world they would have to walk in, to understand with their own eyes and hands so they would know how to
settle the human race here. Where they would finally have to understand the balance between what they made and what they found.

In a way, Dionte had been right. It was going to take everybody to secure the future. She just didn’t see far enough. It was
going to take all of humanity, every last one of them bound tightly together by need, desire, fear, joy, friendship, hatred,
love, struggle, and hope. Oh, most especially hope.

They would have to open the villages. They would have to leave the complexes and walk out in the wild. Step into the marsh
and watch the birds in their thousands take flight all around them.

The image filled him, heart, mind, and soul, and for the first time in his life, Tam saw the birds fly and felt no guilt,
none at all.

Open Cages

Teal crossed the car and sat down beside Chena on the curving padded bench that ran along the inner wall. Chena just pulled
the blanket tighter around her. She did not want Teal here. She did not want anybody.

“Going home at last,” said Teal cheerfully.

Chena bit her lip, remembered herself, and pushed her lip out again. “Teal…”

“Yes?”

Chena ground her teeth. How could she speak? Where could she possibly begin? She’d been ready to die, to kill, to fall. That
was what she wanted. She remembered wanting it very clearly. Except some small part of her had not wanted it at all.

Finally some words came out. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Teal, waving her hand in breezy dismissal of her sister’s seriousness.

The gesture made Chena wince. “I don’t know what happened to me.”

“I do.”

“Oh?” For the first time since the edge of the cliff, Chena felt some warmth inside her, and a bit of annoyance. “You going
to tell me?”

Teal nodded. “You thought you had the answers, as usual, and you were wrong.”

“Is that what it was?” Chena sat up a little straighter, feeling something in her mind that had been retreating turn around
and move a little bit closer. “I thought I was in shock because I had just murdered three people.”

Teal shrugged. “That too.”

They sat silently together for a moment. Teal seemed to be watching Farin where he sat at the transmitter screen, flicking
through assorted databases, but Chena couldn’t be certain what her sister was actually seeing.

Chena bit her lip, let it go, and bit it again. “Where’s Eden?” she asked.

“He’s in with Nan Elle,” said Teal, not looking at her. “I think she’s going to give him a bath.”

“Did you find Dad?”

“Yes.” Teal dropped her gaze and twisted her fingers together. “He’s dead.”

Again, silence closed over her. Chena let it. It was so strange. Even when they were sitting, Teal was taller than she was.
Chena had imagined so many things about meeting her sister again, but she had never imagined she would feel so much younger
than this strange, tall Teal. “So, it’s just us.”

“And our brother,” Teal reminded her gently.

Chena turned her head, memory of wanting to kill the boy burning a river of shame through her. “You really think he’s our
brother?”

Teal just spread her hands. “What else could he be? He’s Mom’s, just like we are.”

Now Chena shrugged. “I thought he was just a thing. One more thing the hothousers made.”

Teal smiled, and the smile was deeply familiar and entirely Teal’s. “Like I said, thought you had all the answers.”

Chena laughed, just a little, and bowed her head. “I think I was crazy.”

“I think you were.” Teal paused. “I’m sorry I left you.”

Chena raised her eyes and saw her sister’s face shining with hope and fear, warmth and worry. “If you hadn’t”—tears pricked
the corners of her eyes—“we wouldn’t be here now.”

“I know,” Teal said softly, hoarsely, and Chena realized that tears also shone in her sister’s eyes. “But I’m still sorry,
that’s all.”

Chena stretched out her arm, and Teal smiled and snuggled herself under the blanket, just like when they were both children
sharing secrets. Well, they were not children anymore, and all their secrets were known. Chena wrapped her arm around her
sister. So much done, so much wrong, so much she would never forget or truly forgive, but for the first time in so many years
she felt no anger. She felt light, as if the gravity had already lost its hold over them and she was about to float away.
She felt as if she stood in the threshold of an open door with the whole world in front of her.

She felt free.

“Come on.” She shook Teal’s shoulder. “Let’s go find our brother.”