Transfer Day

Kim tried to close his eyes. The sun was going to come up soon. He’d never felt more tired, but his body refused to let him sleep.

Arai was slouched against the wall, by the door. If she’d tried to sprawl on the cold stone like Kim they’d have to touch each other, and nobody wanted that.

Bo was still snoring quietly on the bed. It had taken most of the night to calm him down. Kim had assumed things would get better after the Shutdown, instead he’d spent the entire night talking Bo down from tearing the room apart.

Getting Bo away from here had turned out to be complicated. There were apparently rules about Keys sleeping in other people’s rooms. He’d discovered that in the middle of a screaming match with Arai. Not that anyone would check where Bo spent his nights, but Arai had a point about Bo blurting it out accidentally and getting them into even more trouble.

The night after the Shutdown was always a giant party, so Kim hadn’t planned on sleeping much, but staying up with Bo had been torture. When Arai suggested getting a pipe Kim didn’t even fight her. Bo had been hiding under the bed, trying to scratch off his own skin. Kim held him while Arai lit up the sau. He stopped fighting after a few puffs.

By the time they got him to sleep all Kim wanted was to be unconscious.

He rubbed at his eyes. If they’d given Bo too much, if he slept through whatever was expected from him at the Compound… Kim tried not to imagine the possibilities.

They’d have to wake him up soon, make sure he’s at least semi presentable. The shower alone would take forever. Kim spent half the Shutdown with a boy from another district who was deaf in one ear and could barely walk and he’d still been more cooperative than Bo was going to be.

Kim tried to sit up but his head started spinning. He’d been awake too long.

There was still time, they weren’t in a hurry. He stopped resisting and let himself slide back down to the floor.

Arai had said they’d need to prepare Bo for voucher negotiations. Get his confidence up, go over whatever plans Sol left. But there was also Kim’s secret, the thing that would help Bo if he used it right. Kim wished he didn’t have to get Arai involved, but this was the one thing she had more experience with than anyone.

“There’s something I can give him,” Kim said, quietly, staring at the ceiling. “Something useful.”

“It’s probably a good idea,” Arai said, slowly. “He’d be easier to control.”

Kim frowned and looked over. Arai’s eyes were closed, head resting against the wall. “What?”

“With Sol, he wasn’t like this,” she said, her lips barely moving. “You’re right that it might help. I’ve seen how he’s always touching you, he’s probably desperate. There’s time before the Key meeting. It might calm him down.”

Kim sat up, leaning on his palms. He was dizzy again but he ignored it. “I’m not Sol,” he said, louder than he’d intended, “and he’s practically a fluff. You’re disgusting.”

Arai opened her eyes. “You think this’ll get easier?” her voice was calm but Kim could hear the panic underneath. “You know what a year on the vouchers he’ll get us will be like? This is nothing.”

Kim didn’t know much about vouchers and allocations but he had to believe Bo could get them the bare minimum. He had to believe they’d appointed Bo for a reason. Like the foreign Key had said, no one was born knowing how to do this. A week ago Sol was alive and Kim was afraid to walk past this neighborhood. He had to believe in Bo’s potential.

Of course, a different part of him said, if Bo trusted Kim even more, relied on him like he’d relied on Sol, getting rid of Arai would be easier. Kim could do more, help the people who really mattered. The people who’d been on the bottom for as long as he could remember.

Kim sat up fully, forcing the thoughts from his head, and crossed his legs on the floor. “Like I said, I have something real that could help. One of the other Keys owes me a favor.”

Arai’s face drew together into one tight spot of concentration. “Who?”

Kim tried to think about where he’d met the other Key. Which district was on the other side of that door? At least there were only two options. “The 745.”

“Ebie?” Arai said.

“Yeah,” Kim said, still uncertain. “I did her a favor so she’d go easy on Bo.”

Arai started laughing. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep down the noise.

“I’m serious,” Kim said.

“Ebie asked you for a favor?” Arai said.

“Yeah,” Kim said. “Before the Shutdown. She said she’d help him in return.”

“Wow.” Arai let out a last huff of laughter. “Ebie usually keeps her promises. But today?” she shook her head. “Who knows.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Kim said. “I’m telling you so we can get him ready. You know the other Keys.”

“Sure. I guess.” Arai struggled to her feet. “I’m going to shower.” She opened the door quietly before adding: “Wake him up while I’m gone.”

Something about her smirk made Kim nauseous. She liked the idea of leaving him alone with Bo, now that she knew he didn’t want to be Sol’s replacement.

He should have told her that it was too early, and they’d have time to wake Bo when she came back. He should have told her to stay, wake him up herself.

He wanted to. But he didn’t.

 

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Vrei held her face under a stream of cold water in the sink, letting the shock of it wake her. She splashed some on her neck, her collarbone. There was no time for a shower; she’d woken up late. There was barely time for food before she had to be at the Head’s office.

All her friends were busy sleeping off last night. Outside, the streets looked deserted. She missed having one day a year when she could sleep past lunch.

The mess hall was the same. Just bowls of pre-prepared dry food, like every year, and no one to eat it. The only perk was that, for once, Vrei could steal some of it and eat in her office. Olin walked behind her, still bleary. Vrei asked her to grab enough for both of them and went to find Ebie.

Ebie’s office was unlocked. The doors slid open automatically as soon as Vrei approached. Inside, Ebie sat alone, surrounded by paperwork, no food anywhere. She’d probably gotten up before Vrei. Or maybe she hadn’t slept at all.

She looked up as soon as Vrei came in.

“Morning,” Vrei said.

Ebie looked confused. “We’re not late yet. There’s still a few minutes.”

“I know,” Vrei said. She sat down in the empty chair, not bothering to pull her feet up. This wouldn’t take long, she just needed to know. “I saw Len, after dinner yesterday.”

Ebie went back to rearranging her paperwork. “I know. He told me. He really overdid it last night.”

For a moment Vrei wondered whether she should let it go, but she’d spent all night putting these pieces together. If she didn’t ask Ebie now she’d forget in a few days. “Was it being in the Palace again?”

Ebie blinked. Her face hardened.

“Do you always clean up after him?” Vrei said. “Is that how it works?”

She could see the anger rise in Ebie’s face. It traveled like a wave of darkness from her neck to her ears. “He had an accident. It happens. And I didn’t clean up after him, he’s sleeping it off. I don’t need him for deliberations.”

“Look, whatever happened with him at the Palace,” Vrei said. “I don’t care. What I want to know is how some junkie from my district knew you were covering up for him. How could she possibly know that, Ebie?”

Ebie stared at her desk. Some of the anger bled out of her features, replaced with… something. Vrei had never seen that expression on her before. It was clear she knew who Vrei meant.

Ebie knew about Kir.

Which meant… did she know about the fence? Had she kept it from Vrei all this time? “Ebie, I swear, if you lie to me now…”

“A girl showed up in my district, a while ago,” Ebie said. She closed her eyes for a long moment. “I don’t know how she got there. She and some friends got into a fight with a secondyear who was… who should have been sleeping. I was doing rounds when I found them. Him. The boy, he was unconscious. I was going to tell you. Definitely, absolutely, I was going to tell you, but then… then this girl…”

Vrei waited for a few seconds but more words didn’t come. “This girl knew things Cecilia had told her,” she continued, where Ebie had left off. “That definitely weren’t secrets. Are you telling me no one who was in the Palace that year knows about Len’s… whatever?”

Ebie looked up at her sharply, as if suddenly realizing Vrei didn’t know as much as Ebie had assumed.

Great, there was even more to this.

Ebie shook her head. “Nothing ever happened in public. There was an incident that got him on Cecilia’s radar, right after we got to the Palace. She knew he was hiding something but he wouldn’t give her the full story, so she punished him. And then kept punishing him. For a year. Sometimes I didn’t see him for a week because she made him sleep in her room, and the official version was that he was helping her with maintenance or whatever. He’d wake up vomiting from nightmares and they’d send him to medical for a stomach bug. A guy tried waking him up, once, shook him by the shoulder and Len jumped on him and wouldn’t stop hitting until we pulled him off. They gave him bathroom chores for two weeks.”

Vrei shook her head. Everyone hated the Palace, everyone wanted to go home, everyone cried themselves to sleep the first week, between the headaches and the prospect of a year of nothing but chores. It was on her tongue to say Cecilia would never do what Ebie described. She wasn’t bored enough, she barely even noticed if you were alive, as long as you got your work done. But then Vrei thought about the annoying junkie girl she used to live with. At the Palace, the girl used to disappear sometimes, and people laughed, said she was probably tricking Cecilia into letting her off work.

Once they all transferred, she mostly smoked sau, hung out with younger kids, barely bothered to show up at the Compound. She’d never really made friends.

Like Kir.

“I wouldn’t have noticed it,” Ebie said. “If it was anyone but Len. No one cares about Cecilia’s special projects.”

Vrei rubbed at her cheeks. She wished she could splash more cold water on her face.

“So,” she said, trying to make sense of everything. “Kir threatened to tell everyone about Len and you folded? Why? Cecilia’s gone. What does it matter?” But Vrei knew the answer as soon as the words left her mouth. She’d seen it the night before.

“If everyone knew,” Ebie said. “If he had to remember, every time someone looked at him… I don’t know how that would go.”

Vrei didn’t ask what Ebie meant. A week ago she would have laughed, but now, after Sol… Ebie must have thought about this for a long time. She looked certain, like she’d run the odds in her head and knew she wouldn’t be able to save him. That was probably the scariest part. Vrei had never seen Ebie admit something in her own district was beyond her control.

“So… you just let Kir go?” Vrei said, thinking out loud. “And no one found out. You managed to keep everything quiet.”

Ebie stayed silent, avoiding Vrei’s eyes.

“Except your little secret cost me,” Vrei said. She didn’t want to think about how the last week would have gone if Ebie had done what she was supposed to, reported Kir and saved Vrei all that panic.

There was so much Vrei wanted to ask, wanted to demand Ebie tell her, but one question felt more urgent than the rest. “Is this the first time?”

Ebie’s spine was like a spring, suddenly pulled taut. She straightened, eyes determined, looking almost indignant. “Of course.”

“I saw him last night,” Vrei reminded her. “How many times have you covered for him?”

“Never,” Ebie said, emphatically. “He’s never gone back to the Palace.” She began to say something but then closed her mouth and shook her head. After a moment she went on. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. What can I do now? You want extra bedding? Medical vouchers?”

Typical Ebie. One second she was queen of the rules, giving Vrei lectures about keeping a better eye on her residents, and the next she was trying to bribe her way out of trouble. Vrei was so tired of her bullshit. For once, she was going to make Ebie explain herself, admit she had flaws like everyone else.

“I wish,” Ebie said, filling the silence between them, “I could have brought this to you. You don’t know how many times I wanted to.”

“So why didn’t you?” Vrei said. “That night, you had to know the girl was a junkie. You had to assume she’d done more damage than you saw. And who would I even tell about Len? We barely see each other!”

“I know,” Ebie said, looking uncomfortable.

“I’ve never lied to you, not like this,” Vrei said. She felt empty, like some important part of her disappeared, leaving her lighter. “After everything you said about Sol. How could you?”

“Because I thought…” Ebie said. “Doesn’t matter. I should have told you.”

Vrei wanted to hear the rest of that sentence. She needed to know. She stayed quiet until Ebie rolled her eyes and kept talking.

“You like… people who are strong. I wasn’t sure you’d get it. And I couldn’t take it back, once you knew.”

“What does that mean?” Vrei said, frowning. She wished she could feel anger, instead of this creeping sadness. Ebie was the toughest person Vrei knew. She kept herself at a distance from anyone who might discover she was human. Fighting her for vouchers was the hardest thing Vrei had ever done.

She was supposed to be the one who’d never do something like this. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d thought of Ebie as the most dependable person on this planet.

It made her think about Olin, trying to hide her nerves, going behind Vrei’s back for no reason. She didn’t understand it, still, but Ebie’s guilt-ridden face was making her rethink things. The idea that the people closest to her couldn’t trust her completely was like a cold knife aimed at her chest. But she could untangle that later.

It was Transfer Day, and she had to decide what would happen once they walked out of this room.

“Would you really give me fluffs or vouchers or whatever?” Vrei said.

Ebie was silent for the space of several long breaths. “I owe you.”

Sol would probably have screamed at Ebie until the Compound walls crumbled, then she’d have gone on a bender, then come back and told Ebie to never do it again. Let Ebie stew and suffer, feel like shit for a while. Vrei could definitely see the appeal.

She reached over the table, slowly. Her hand touched Ebie’s fingers, clenched into fists. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Sol had always said, Keys had to stick up for each other. Maybe that was the best use of this moment. Maybe building trust had to start somewhere unexpected.

“It’s done. You don’t have to give me anything,” Vrei said.

Ebie looked away but didn’t pull away from Vrei’s hand. “We have to go,” she said, finally. “The Head’s probably waiting by now.”

They stayed sitting for a few more seconds before getting up.

 

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Claudia wondered whether the school was always such a mess on Transfer Days. She supposed given that it barely functioned the rest of the time, it was no surprise that everything fell apart as soon as there was a time crunch. At least she wouldn’t have to be here for very long. If she got her new orders within the next few days she could leave with the supply ship.

The scheduled time for the meeting came and went, yet only Michael and the boy Key were present in her office.

When the girls arrived Claudia didn’t bother wasting time on chastising them. A ship had been docked in orbit since the middle of the night, and a message marked urgent had arrived for Claudia early in the morning. She had decided to postpone looking at it until she had to, but now she was anxious to be done with it. It was either a request for mundane details, like when to send the newly arrived children and supplies and in what order, or documents removing her from authority. Maybe it was both.

“Can I talk to Ebie outside?” the boy said, before the girls sat down. Ebie actually looked to Claudia for an answer, as if she thought more tardiness would be acceptable, before Michael said “absolutely not.”

Bo tried to protest but Ebie told him they’d speak over lunch. “Trust me, we’ll be here all day,” she added before taking a seat. She seemed more inclined to be patient with him than the last time Claudia saw them together.

“Before we start,” Vrei said, pulling her legs up under herself on the chair. Claudia couldn’t stop frowning at the habit. Underneath how little she cared about this job something deep in her core bristled at such casual departure from protocol. “I’d like to bring up the blanket situation. My district took in more used blankets last year than anyone—”

“And whose fault was that?” Ebie said, though she sounded more amused than angry.

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault, we just happen to have more daily wear-and-tear…” Vrei kept talking, and Ebie answered her and at some point Michael got involved in the argument, but Claudia stopped listening as soon as her eyes scanned over the first lines of the message from the supply ship’s captain.

After she was done, she read the text again, pausing over each word. Then she read the two attached documents, signed and marked with official insignia. Finally she looked away from the screen.

“Stop talking. There’s nothing to fight about, the supply ship is empty.”

Confused looks met Claudia on the other side of her desk.

“Tensions are rising all along the border,” she said. “This quadrant is increasingly unsafe. The school is being shut down. What’s in orbit is an evacuation ship, they’ll send down shuttles as soon as I give them the signal. Approximately 70% of the school’s population will fit inside. The rest will wait for the next transport, in a month.”

Everyone was still while Claudia talked. Ebie was the first to recover from the shock. “Evacuated? Where are they sending us?”

“You’ll have to ask at Central Processing.” Claudia had no idea where the children would be assigned, and she doubted anyone on the evacuation ship did either. They must have planned this months ago, a supply ship had never left harbor. They sent her here knowing the school was about to be closed—they’d wanted her to oversee its dismantling.

“Central Processing?” Vrei said. Her feet were back on the floor now. “That only applies to elders.”

Claudia steepled her fingers. “Perhaps I should have been clearer.” Her mind kept racing through the implications of the letter, of what might await her next. “The school is being shut down permanently. According to the paperwork I received, you’ll all be conscripted.”

Michael jumped up at that, peering over Claudia’s desk to see the documents spread on her screen. She plucked the screen from her desk and handed it to him.

“This is not a training exercise,” she said, while Michael paced. “I’ll need evacuation plans from you within the hour. I suggest the oldest students go first, with the younger ones staying on the planet.” She made a mental note to check with the man in charge of the youngest children whether it would be a good idea to keep them all, for now. The school would still need manual labor to function. “Staff and Keys, obviously, will stay as well.”

Michael collapsed into a chair, letting the screen drop to the floor. It fell with a heavy thud, but remained intact.

His surrender seemed to galvanize the children, as if it had finally made Claudia’s words real.

“This can’t be happening,” Ebie said, just as Vrei said “Are we at war?”

Bo simply stared at Claudia with his wide, soft eyes.

“It’s unexpected,” Claudia agreed, back in her chair. “And no, we’re not officially at war, though we will be. They’ll probably hold the announcement for a few weeks yet.” A few weeks during which she’d finish sorting out the school. A few weeks of her story being used by the press to justify whatever parliament wanted.

“This is about what you did, isn’t it,” Ebie said, looking at Claudia, her mouth a thin line. “They’re punishing you again, except this time they’re also punishing us.”

Claudia couldn’t help but smile to herself. Releasing her from running this hole was the opposite of a punishment.

“What about secondyears, thirdyears?” Vrei said. “What do they even do at Central Processing?”

Claudia shrugged. “I have no idea. But my assumption is that every delegate will want to postpone a draft in their territory for as long as possible. And that means conscripting every available body, so the numbers look good. I doubt most of you will see the frontlines. Probably it’ll be maintenance work.” Probably most of them would end up working in kitchens and cargo holds.

“I… I haven’t even taken Basic Principles of Strategic Planning yet,” the boy said, looking dazed. “I can’t even apply for officer school.”

The words startled a laugh out of Claudia, which she quickly tried to disguise with a cough. “I wouldn’t worry about it Bo,” she said, after gaining her composure. “No one from this facility will make it to the Academy, not even your fellow Keys. It doesn’t really matter what classes you’ve had the opportunity to take.”

“What!” Ebie exploded.

Claudia realized both girls were suddenly looking at her with anger and dismay.

She should have seen this coming, but it really wasn’t her problem. She wasn’t the one who’d been lying to them for years. “Michael?” she said.

He seemed to come alive at the mention of his name. Claudia supposed the gears in his head had turned sufficiently by now to realize that she was his only chance at a good placement, wherever they sent him next.

“Girls, you heard the Head,” Michael said, sounding faint. “I want evacuation plans within the hour.” He took a shaky breath. “Account for equipment as well, we’ll need to transport it eventually.”

“No,” Ebie said, rising. “I want to know why. It doesn’t matter anyway, right? So at least tell us.”

“I’m with Ebie,” Vrei said.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Ebie went on. “Why couldn’t any of us be officers? They have late career development tracks or whatever, at the Academy. Our reference program isn’t great, but you’ve got to be worth something, right?” she said, gesturing at Claudia. “They’ll probably make you a war hero for letting your own ship burn in the buffer zone. You can write references for some of us, at least.”

Claudia glanced at Michael, but his eyes were hollow, staring at a spot somewhere on the floor. What had he fed them all these years? What fabrications had been necessary to keep these children in line?

The room was quiet, waiting for Claudia’s response.

She had nothing to threaten these children with, no incentives to offer, and she needed their cooperation. It was in her interests to get this done as quickly as possible; maybe if she gave them the truth they’d have less motivation to stall.

Maybe if she proved herself competent again she’d be assigned a real job.

“There’s no field training program here,” Claudia said, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve never gone on scouting missions, never worked on engines, you barely have navigation simulators. The curriculum is from before the War. There are narcotics growing freely in your living quarters. This school is run by a staff that wouldn’t normally be enough to maintain a moderate sized infirmary. You don’t have a sponsor program or psych training, you grow up like weeds. No supervision, no accountability.”

“I’m not getting on the shuttle,” Bo said, eyes wet and voice shaky. “You can’t make me.”

The girls stayed silent, each caught in her own thoughts. They didn’t echo Bo’s sentiments, which Claudia took as a good sign. It was better this way, at least they could move things along.

Condolences would probably make the children less upset. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You know this wasn’t my decision. If there was anything I could do…”

“Reports within the hour,” Michael said, his voice quiet. He got out of his chair, slowly, as if regaining his limbs. “If you do a good job we’ll… we’ll arrange some accommodation. References for exemplary performance. It’ll help you stand out, even without your finals.”

The boy got up first, avoiding Claudia’s eyes as he stormed out of the room.

“This was all for nothing,” Vrei spat at Michael, before following him outside.

Claudia couldn’t blame the children. It was obvious this kind of sudden announcement would not be taken well.

“Vrei, you need to get a hold of yourself,” Michael said, following her into the hallway. The sound of a loud argument penetrated the office even after the doors slid shut.

Ebie remained seated. Claudia gave her a moment to collect herself, but when the girl rose she approached Claudia’s desk, instead of heading for the door.

“Did you know when you came here?” she said. “What this place really was? That they could shut it down without even giving an official reason? I guess I always knew. I just… I never thought…” she stuttered, like her brain had just run out of words.

She was probably around sixteen. Claudia remembered herself at that age, certain that her school friends were the pinnacle of what the world had to offer.

“You were always going to leave here with nothing,” Claudia said. “That hasn’t changed. Before, your meaningless grades were going to get you a mechanic’s junior assistant post somewhere, maybe. After twenty years you might have climbed to second assistant. Now…” Claudia sighed. She thought about Martin’s body, about the images in the news. She thought about the scars she still carried on her body, that the doctors couldn’t wipe away, from the war everyone thought would be the last.

“War is messy,” she said, finally. “If you survive, you never know where you might end up.”

Ebie looked away, at a spot of rust on Claudia’s desk. “Are they going to give you another command?”

“I don’t know,” Claudia said. “Maybe. Probably not.”

She was aware, now, that this entire posting had to have been a test. They’d wanted to see whether she’d suffer the humiliation of this place, or whether the accident, the death of her crew, the trial, had pushed her too far. Whether, after everything, she could still be relied upon to follow orders.

Whether she was still loyal enough to do work that was beneath her.

“Take me with you.” Ebie’s hands were curled into fists, supporting her weight as she leaned closer to Claudia. “You know I’m a hard worker.”

“Maybe, we’ll see,” Claudia said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. “Meanwhile, I need that report.”

Ebie nodded, and turned away, pausing for a moment. Whether she wanted to say something else and thought better of it, or simply wanted to collect herself before facing the world, she was gone a few seconds later.

Claudia went to retrieve the screen Michael had dropped and placed it back where it belonged on her desk. She leaned back in her chair and began drafting a reply for the ship’s captain.

She’d made him wait long enough.

 

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