Carefully, I step out onto the metallic floor panels of the docking bay. Aside from a couple of mechanics working on a decommissioned shuttle in the far corner, the place is deserted. The last sun rays, now a vivid orange, flow up into the mouth of the bay behind us and cast our shadows on the far wall. We look huge in shadow form. In reality I don’t think we’re so impressive.
I take a deep breath and follow my teammates past the chemical scanners to the ground level of the Academy. The wide windows of the circular hallway heat the incoming sun until it feels like we’re back on the Surface. We intersect the corridor and head for the central elevator shaft-the Academy’s spinal cord.
Skandar thumps his fist against the white walls as we march down an unremarkable hallway. With nearly a thousand of us onboard, the upper levels are packed this time of night. It’s dead silent down here.
My heart beats twice for every step. I stop and close my eyes, hoping that when I open them the hallway will stop spinning. It doesn’t.
We turn the corner into a second corridor. My strides shorten, feet dragging.
Skandar pauses and leans against the wall. “You okay, mate?”
I hold up a hand. The other one’s clutching my chest, trying to get my heart to slow down. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”
Eva turns, hands on hips. “Probably the heat. You rehydrated on the shuttle ride, didn’t you?”
I nod, taking a deep breath and straightening my back. “I’ll be okay.”
She sighs, but doesn’t press the issue.
A few more moments and we’re at the elevators. Skandar presses the button and stares at me while we wait for the doors to open. I don’t look back at him. By the time we’re crammed inside, my heart slows to a normal pace again.
I watch the screen beside the doors as we ascend to Level Five.
Meeting rooms. Mr. Wilson.
As head teacher of Year Nine, it’s Wilson’s responsibility to put us on track for graduation and to train us in the grand arts of Surface survival and Pearl Retrieval. He doesn’t like me. He’s never liked me. Any crumb of affection left between us oughta be wiped out tonight.
The elevator doors spread open. My back-to-normal heart lumps in my throat. We slump toward the meeting room with all the excitement of a funeral procession. When we finally take our seats at the crescent-shaped table inside, I’m about to pass out from all the stress. An old wooden desk in front lies empty for now, waiting for Mr. Wilson.
There’s no decoration, no windows, nothing but a ripped projector screen hanging from the ceiling and a barren table pushed into the corner. A weeping plant clings to life against the opposite wall. It probably hasn’t been watered in weeks. Fluorescent light blares down from a tube directly above us. Hell’s waiting room.
I take a sip of water from a glass in front of me. We sit in silence. Bad kids in detention. Nobody knows what to expect. Mr. Wilson’s not a yeller, but there’s a first time for everything.
The door knob twists and Mr. Wilson strolls in, wearing a drab, unbuttoned sport coat and jeans. Focus real hard and the hint of a bald spot creeps up from under his combed-over hair. I like to see how fast I can find it. Today it takes me longer than usual. Go Mr. Wilson.
He’s got a bundle of books tucked under his arm that he sets on the desk before treating us to a mass dorky, come-on-impress-me smile.
“Well,” he begins. “It’s reassuring to see you all back unscathed. I hope your shuttle trip was comfortable. There’s supposed to be a storm passing through below us tonight.”
Nobody responds. We can barely meet his eyes.
He picks up on this immediately, crossing his arms and leaning against the desk. His lips shut and settle into a frown. The buzzing of the overhead lights is deafening.
He claps his hands together. I nearly jump out of my seat. “I guess we’ll get right to it, then. Where’s the Pearl?”
Crickets.
“The Pearl,” he repeats, like we didn’t understand the first time. “Come on, kids.”
I raise my head and meet his eyes. “We… um… we kind of don’t have it.”
His expression falls blank. “You kind of don’t have it, or you don’t have it?”
“We don’t have it,” I mumble. Might as well rip off the bandage all at once.
He drags his hand across his face, rubbing away the last remnants of anticipation. “I need to sit down.” He crawls behind the desk, grunting and sighing with dissatisfaction. “I told Alkine this was a bad idea,” he mutters. “What happened?”
“We were ambushed,” Eva replies. “Just after unloading the last of the rations.”
I wince. Technically, Skandar and I were ambushed, and we weren’t anywhere near the rations.
Mr. Wilson’s face drains of color. “Ambushed? Syracuse is deserted. We made sure there weren’t any hostiles before sending you down.”
Eva frowns. “He was one of Madame’s. No older than us, sir.”
Wilson leans forward. “By himself?”
I glance over at Eva. It would be so easy to concoct a dramatic story with government blockades and cruisers and tanks. It’d be less embarrassing, too. Less consequence. Less lectures. But by the time I open my mouth, it’s already too late.
“Yes, sir,” she says. “By himself.”
Mr. Wilson shakes his head. “So let me get this straight. Some fifteen-year-old punk from Madame’s crew shows up in the middle of the Fringes and manages to single-handedly take on three of my trainees and steal our Pearl?”
“It was Fisher’s fault!” Skandar points at me.
“Hey!” I glare back. “It’s not like you weren’t tied up on the ground!”
“I had it in my hands,” Eva interrupts, “but Jesse got himself in trouble with some of the locals and I had to help him. The guy snuck up on us. I did everything I could, sir. It wouldn’t have happened at all if Fisher and Harris hadn’t been screwing around. I would recommend-”
Wilson holds up his hand to stop her. “All right.” He sighs. “Enough. I got it. You’ve had a very long day. As much as I’d like to, this isn’t the time to run through all of the mistakes that could have been prevented. Eva, Skandar, head over to the canteen and get something to eat. We’ll talk about this in detail tomorrow.”
I glance around the room. “What about me?”
“ You stay here.” His eyes pin me to my seat. “Alkine wants to talk to you.”
Skandar flashes me a sympathetic look, but wastes no time slipping out the door. Eva follows right behind.
“I think a round of Bunker Ball is in order tomorrow, so get some sleep!” Wilson calls after them as the door shuts. I sink down into my seat, barely able to make eye contact.
A silence falls over the meeting room. My heart does somersaults. Sweat drips down the sides of my torso. Usually when I’m forced into a meeting with Captain Alkine I layer on a gallon of deodorant beforehand. I may smell like a flowery garden, but at least he doesn’t see what a nervous wreck I am.
“Fisher, Fisher, Fisher.” Mr. Wilson shakes his head. “What are we going to do with you?”
The scary thing is, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell they’re planning to do with me. Alkine’s a busy guy. He doesn’t have time for unscheduled meetings.
I contemplate bolting for the door and locking myself in my bedroom, but before I know it, Captain Alkine enters the room. His heavy combat boots clomp on the floor as he walks to the desk. He’s gotta be a full foot taller than me at least. Impossibly tall. His skin is weathered from years of living on the Surface. A scar runs down his left cheek-a battle wound from his days as a soldier. His dark hair is all but gray now, turned by years of overseeing a Skyship full of children.
Mr. Wilson stands, whispers something in Alkine’s ear, and leaves. Alkine moves behind the desk and stares off into the corner of the room for a moment. Then his eyes fall squarely on me.