My eyes follow the enormous ship as we pass by. The neon towers stretching up from the top level create an unnatural glow in the atmosphere. The hull is dark and wide-wedge-shaped, with space for thousands of tiny little rooms and corridors. The more money you’ve got, the higher you get to live. Nobody wants to try and sleep next to the thrusters on the bottom level. That’s why it’s reserved for docking bays. But Polaris isn’t much of a “settling down” ship, anyway. Not if you want peace and quiet. “We flew over there a couple years ago, right? For the opera?”
Skandar rolls his eyes. “Ugh. The most boring night of my life. I’m telling you, mate. Someday we need to highjack a shuttle and sneak onto Polaris. Head up to the casinos. That’s where the real action is.”
Somehow I can’t imagine that happening. After today’s little adventure, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Wilson kept us locked up in the Academy until we all turned eighteen.
Skandar’s com-pad flashes at his side. He detaches it from his belt, reading the line of text on the shiny black surface. Rolling his eyes, he tosses it to me. “Romeo’s been buzzed.”
I fumble with the device, glancing down at the words on the screen. Jesse, why are you ignoring me? Are you all right? – Avery
Eva shifts in her seat, peering at the rearview mirror. “Is it Avery again?”
Skandar nods. “You mean Fisher’s girlfriend?”
I flip down the keypad, typing. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Not if you keep denying it,” Skandar replies.
“I don’t care who she is,” Eva huffs. “Academy CPs are not meant for socializing. How she’s managed to hack her way into our channel I’ll never know.”
“She’s good at that kind of stuff,” I mutter, pressing the send button. Not ignoring you. Lost my CP, but I’m ok. – Jesse
Seconds later, another message appears on the screen. Just wanted to congratulate you on your first mission. Dinner tonight? – Avery
My heart swells as I reread the words. With all the negativity floating around this afternoon, the prospect of dinner with Avery Wicksen is more than enough reward for me. Ever since she was transferred from the Academy on Skyship Mira three years ago, she’s been the calm oasis after increasingly embarrassing mishaps-the only one I can really talk to. I quickly type a nonchalant “yeah” into the com-pad and send it.
Eva frowns. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t tell Mr. Wilson about you two abusing the CPs.”
I toss it back to Skandar. “Um… your kind and generous nature?”
She snorts with laughter.
“Come on, Eva.” Skandar attaches the com-pad to his belt. “Have a heart. Fisher’s gotta work on his game.” He slaps my shoulder. “So what’d you tell her?” He purses his lips, adopting a ridiculous deep voice. “ Hey, baby, come to my room so we can get it on.”
Eva rolls her eyes. “Real subtle, Harris.”
I shrug. “I pretty much just said ‘yeah.’”
He rolls his eyes, leaning back. “Well, that’s lame.”
Our shuttle continues to zip along the thin layer of cirrus clouds beneath us. Soon Polaris is nothing more than a dot in the distance. Creeping up next on the radar is the Horizon College of Liberal Arts. We call it Skyship Academy.
And we don’t study liberal arts. The school’s a front to keep the Unified Party off our backs. Under the Hernandez Treaty, Surface representatives can inspect any part of the Skyship Community with a warrant and “documented suspicion of duplicitous activity,” which can basically be turned around to mean just about anything. Places like hospitals, churches, and schools are exempt. Safe havens. So in all its infinite wisdom, the Tribunal runs all its secret Pearl-snatching operations through a handful of “schools.” Lucky us.
We file activity reports, but nobody in the Skyship Community knows what we’re really getting up to: secret reconnaissance missions, Fringe-trading, anything that helps us grab Pearls before the Unified Party finds them. Read the e-feed and you’d think the Skyships are stable, with enough Pearl Power to last as long as we need. The truth is, we’re one dry year away from having to sacrifice a good chunk of our ships. But the Tribunal would never admit it to the community.
Eva unfastens her belt and joins us in the passenger cabin. “Visitation Day on Friday.”
Skandar drags his hand across his face. “I hate wearing suits.”
“It’s only for a few hours. We have to look like any other school and that includes giving tours. Right, Jesse?”
“I’m with Skandar on this one.”
Every semester on Visitation Day, hopeful students follow our teachers around all wide-eyed and grinning, mass eager to learn about philosophy and literature and heaps of other stuff that we don’t actually teach. None of them ever make it through our “selective” admissions department. Skyship Academy’s only new recruits are agents’ kids or transfers from other training facilities. Count me among the former, though I can’t really remember my parents. They died when I was two, part of a government sting operation. In other words, they died heroes. Kinda sets expectations for their only kid.
“Well,” Eva continues, “I don’t think it hurts for us to remind ourselves that we’re going to be agents soon. It’s not bad to look professional every once in a while.”
Skandar grimaces. “What, are you like forty years old?”
“I’m just saying… a little bit of maturity goes a long way.”
I frown. “Tell that to Mr. Wilson when he flunks me out of the program.”
She leans forward and lays her hand on my knee. It’s mildly creepy. “That’s not going to happen, Jesse. You’ve got three and a half more years. The only way to go is up.”
Skandar chuckles. Eva shoots him a look that silences him instantly. “ You on the other hand… everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. Eva’s face bristles. I can tell she’s about to slap him so I half-heartedly point out the window. “Looks like we’re home.”
After one last glare in Skandar’s direction, she stomps back to the cockpit and flips off the autopilot.
The Academy hangs in the sky before us, a dark gray ornament against a backdrop of fuchsia sunset. It’s shaped like the world’s biggest spinning top, widest at its peak and curving down all the way to the jagged spire at the bottom that sweeps through the wispy clouds below like a needle through dry ice. Unlike a top, we don’t spin. Skyships rarely change coordinates at all, unless there’s a security breach.
We live on one of the smaller models, less an airborne city than a massive, flying house. Extending from the top center is the central tower. Inside, Captain Alkine-our number-one-cross-him-you-die commander-makes all the important calls. A transparent fiberglass dome cuts through the tower halfway, arching down to surround Lookout Park, a green oasis in the middle of the sky. Not only does it grow most of our food, but it’s the place to be after lessons. There’s no such thing as a cloudy day at Lookout. They’re all rushing by below our feet.
Six levels of living quarters, training classrooms, and research labs fill the rest of the ship, narrowing as they near the bottom where the docking bays lie open in anticipation of our shuttle.
We pull closer to the Academy. Dark, weathered siding fills the air outside my window. A pink sunset streams in behind us, hitting Eva right in the face. In an hour it’ll be completely dark. The canteen’s probably closed except for a few leftovers. There goes dinner.
I run my fingers through my dusty hair, sitting up and stretching as the shuttle veers into docking bay number three. The floor vibrates as the landing gear retracts. The cabin lights flicker off, replaced by the soft glow from inside the bay.
Eva shuts off the power as soon as we touch down. With a quick hiss of air, the door rises open and the steps collapse. Skandar and Eva head out first. I stand up. My head spins.
I grab the back of my seat to avoid falling over, but the dizziness gets mass worse. My pulse quickens until each thump feels like it’s gonna send my heart flying out of my chest. I let go of the chair and stretch my arms, closing my eyes and breathing deep. I just need a drink of water, that’s all. I mean, after what happened today, it’s a wonder I’m still alive.