The Gauntlet (The Cage 3)

21

Rolf

NOK PACED BACK AND forth by the window of the old sheriff’s office, twisting a pink strand of hair around one finger. She threw Rolf a worried look, as he sat at the old sheriff’s desk, his notebooks laid out around him. “I’ll never get used to it. Me, sheriff. The whole idea is crazy. Absolutely mental.” She peeked through the blinds at the town beyond, where the former slaves were repairing the schoolhouse roof.

“I’ve told you, try to think of it as an honorary title.” Rolf concentrated on his notebook, where he was about to finish the latest blueprint he was working on. “Keena’s done a good job of managing everything so far. Besides, it isn’t entirely crazy. You being sheriff, I mean. When you worked in the tents you managed to get all the deputies to hang on your every word. Even the most brutish of the mine guards. Keena said it was like watching someone tame lions into kittens.”

Nok paced harder. “That was just some stupid trick. Bribing them with sports news and reality television.”

“Yes,” Rolf pointed out, “but it worked.”

Nok turned back to the window and chewed on a fingernail.

Rolf frowned down at his notebooks, wishing he could ease her worries. Weeks had passed since Ellis had died, and tensions had been high ever since. The first day, Keena had rounded up Armstrong’s survivors for a town meeting—four dozen mine guards, three dozen tent guards, and two hundred slaves—to declare a transitional government. She had persuaded Nok, as the official “sheriff,” to be with her for every announcement, though Nok had just stood there looking completely out of place as Keena explained how the new system would work: slaves freed, all residents rotating between two-hour shifts at the mines, two-hour construction shifts, and two-hour shifts cooking or working in the infirmary. A good plan, Rolf thought. Still, not everyone had been happy about the new rules. More than once, Rolf had overheard discontented grumbles, mostly from the mine guards, while he’d walked around the tent encampment.

“What are you working on, anyway?” Nok asked.

He set down his pencil. There were no electric lights, since the building had only been used previously as a prop, but a fair amount of sunlight streamed through the windows. He smoothed his hand over the blueprints proudly. While Nok had been stuck in government meetings with Keena, he’d spent days inspecting the old town, making notes for how it could be improved and turned into a real, proper place to raise a daughter. Even better, he’d stumbled upon old blueprints of the Kindred’s transport hub, which indicated there was a reactor core. It was radioactive and protected with layers of reinforced buffers, not to mention the hub emitted scalding steam through vents; but if he could find a safe way to run wires from its auxiliary nodes, he could potentially bring enough electricity into Armstrong’s town for lights and basic communications.

“It’s a surprise,” he said. A rare flicker of pride filled his chest. Back on Earth, he’d spent countless long nights cooped up in Oxford’s library, stuffing his head with knowledge that was good only for standardized tests and impressing professors. And for what? A father who’d always overlooked his accomplishments in favor of his brother’s track medals? Fellow students who’d resented his grades?

But everything was different on Armstrong. Here, when he’d first sheepishly showed Keena his plans to rebuild the town, she’d called him a genius. To his surprise, the citizens didn’t tease him for his twitches but, rather, came to him with questions about how best to engineer new water systems.

Here, he mattered.

Nok gave him a playful smile. “A surprise? I hope it involves chocolate.”

She rubbed her hands over her straining belly. Her pregnancy was no longer a secret, thanks to Ellis. And on a moon full of sterilized humans, everyone had developed a sort of fascination with her growing belly. Two middle-aged women, former slaves, had come by this morning and left an offering of flowers and extra gruel by the sheriff’s office door. The mine guards might not love her, but the tent guards practically idolized her.

Nok peered between the slats again and her smile faded.

“Oh, great,” she muttered. “Some of the mine guards are congregating by the dance hall. They’re probably plotting to murder me.”

Rolf pushed up from his chair and went to the window. Outside, Dane was speaking to a few hulking guards under the dance hall awning, their faces hidden in shadows.

“No one is going to murder anyone. I’ll make sure of it.” His hand found hers and squeezed. “Where’s Keena?”

Nok sighed. “In bed. Her cough’s gotten worse. Loren says she’s been in and out of consciousness. She’ll need a few days to recover, at least.” Her eyes narrowed as she watched Dane making big, emphatic gestures. “The timing’s not good for her to be sick, with Dane spouting off all his lies. He says he wants peace, but he really wants to be sheriff himself.”

“No.” Rolf’s voice was quiet and certain. “He wants to be king.”

Nok turned away from the window, muttering things about sheriffs and Dane and responsibilities and babies. She was so distracted that she didn’t see the strange, snaking line of smoke that appeared over the buildings. Rolf frowned, pushing aside the blinds to see better.

“Um, Nok?”

“And he has the nerve to—“

“Nok.”

“I mean, who does he think—”

“Nok.”

She spun to face him. He pointed at the sky.

She ran back to the window and peered at the streak of smoke. “What is that?”

Rolf felt his hands twitching again. At the end of the snaking line of smoke was a small black dot that could be only one thing.

He swallowed. “It’s a ship.”

More dots filled the sky. In the next second there were dozens of ships behind the first, which was rapidly headed for the town square where they stood. Nok’s face went slack as she stumbled backward, a hand squeezing over her badge as though clasping a lifeline.

“Maybe . . . maybe Cora’s come back,” Nok offered. “It could be friends.”

Rolf braced himself as the first ship grew closer. Through the haze he could just make out the cerulean-blue flashing lights of a Kindred cruiser.

“Those are not friends.”

He pushed out into the town square, squinting against the bright sun, hands squeezed into fists. He had so many plans for this town—he’d only just started to realize its potential—and he wasn’t about to let anyone take away his hope.

Nok joined him in the square. They shaded their eyes as the Kindred cruiser hovered overhead. Frightened citizens of Armstrong poured into the town square, gaping as they all looked up. Dane and his mine guards stood in front of the dance hall, looking up with solemn expressions.

“I wish Keena was here to handle this,” Nok muttered. “Shit. Look.” She grabbed his hand.

Rolf felt eyes on them and realized that most of the citizens of Armstrong were staring at them. No. Staring at Nok, their eyes going hesitantly to her badge. A few gazes then shifted to Dane.

Rolf nudged her. “You’ve got to say something. Take charge.?

?

“Me?”

Overhead, the ship discharged its thrusters and began to land just outside of town. A nervous energy spread through the crowd, as whispers hissed at the edges. A few citizens ducked into the general store to hide.

“With Keena unconscious,” Rolf whispered, “these people are going to turn to either you or Dane for leadership. And we have to make sure it’s you.”

Eyes wide, Nok looked down at her reflection in the gold metal badge.

The ship landed and began powering down, its blue lights fading slowly. The crowd was growing more fearful, a few anxious cries rising above the chatter.

Rolf gritted his teeth. Nok needed him—not his brain this time, but his support. He grabbed her hand and pulled them both forward, toward the ship.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What we have to do,” he answered.

Slowly, a look of understanding crossed her face. She glanced over her shoulder at the nervous Armstrong citizens, then at Dane. By the time they’d pushed their way to the front of the crowd to stand beneath the ship, she stood a little straighter.

“Don’t worry, everyone!” she called. “Stay calm!”

Both of them waited tensely for whoever was inside to emerge. Anything could be inside. Kindred guards. Fian, come back to finish them off. But then Rolf frowned, looking closely at the ship’s tail. “Look at its fin. It’s been singed. And there’s damage to the rear thruster. It almost looks as though it’s been in battle.”

“Against who?” Nok whispered. “I thought they’d come to attack us.”

The hatch hissed as it opened, and Rolf braced himself. Overhead, dozens of other ships hovered, ready to land right behind the first. He recognized the shapes as the ones from Serassi’s picture book: Gatherer and Mosca and Kindred ships. Why would they be traveling together?

Then, strangely, a girl dropped down.

Rolf went rigid with surprise. It was a human girl with dark brown skin and hair knotted in balls. The girl covered her mouth to cough, waving away dust and exhaust. “It’s okay!” the girl said. “We’re friends!”