duration of the return journey, but Dien keeps herself as close as Adelaide’s shadow. When they reach Dien’s apartment, a few of the activists are engaged in a lively meeting. Dien expels everyone but herself and Adelaide. They disperse with reluctance.
‘So? Was it worth it?’
Adelaide pulls out the necklace.
‘This was my brother’s.’
‘And?’
She extracts the letter from her pocket.
‘His goodbye note.’
‘Is that it?’
Adelaide hesitates, twisting the shark tooth between thumb and finger. The enamel is smooth, the shark long dead. She thinks of her brother at the moment of writing, the horses cantering at the back of his mind even as he scripted his goodbye. She thinks of the ships who came looking, their carcasses sunk beyond the Atum Shelf with the weighted bones of the crews; the loved ones on land who would wonder, and after a time would try and fail to grieve, because they could not let go of a chance, an obstinate sliver of chance, that something might come back. She thinks of a burning tower, western hands pulling her from the waves, Mikaela’s voice:
because you need us
. A man with a scalpel and a salt box. Ole’s silent plea. She thinks of Dien’s face, bloodied and swollen, her breath huffing in the icy night, Adelaide’s body a mine of aches.
Are you done?
Dien, who is staring at her now, waiting for an answer.
She could lie, of course. She could tell Dien anything she wanted and Dien would believe her, because somehow, on that strange and volatile night, they reached an accord.
But she is done with lies.
‘Sit down,’ she says. ‘There’s something I need to tell you about. It’s called Operation Whitefly, and it’s been going on for a very long time.’
When she has finished talking, Dien sits with her hands clasped very tightly together, stupefied into silence. Adelaide has never seen her at a loss for words.
‘Fuck,’ says Dien at last. ‘Fuck.’
She stands up, sits down, and stands up again. She starts to circle the apartment.
‘This changes everything.’
‘I know.’
‘This – will bring down the Osiris Council.’
‘It would do.’
Dien pauses briefly by the window-wall. ‘You have to go back and get those papers, Rechnov.’
‘My family would be arrested. Possibly killed.’
‘Your family deserve to be killed. They’re murderers. Listen to what you’re telling me! They’ve executed entire crews, for stars’ sake. They’ve torpedoed ships.’
‘That was a long time ago – most of it happened after the Great Storm. My grandfather is dying.’ She keeps her voice firm. Dien will pounce on any hint of weakness. ‘He won’t last the year.’
Dien shakes her head.
‘Justice comes late. But it’s still justice.’ She nibbles at her lower lip, smudging what’s survived of her lipstick. ‘It’s still justice.’
‘Dien. I won’t let them take him.’
‘You can’t sit on this. This is our passport to breaking open the border!’
‘You think so?’
Something in Adelaide’s tone stops Dien in her tracks.
‘Of course it is.’
‘You think because you can expose my family, and a couple of other families, that the Council will suddenly open up the border?’
‘If we’re the ones to expose them—’
‘No. They’ll clamp down even harder. If they don’t claim it’s a hoax, they’ll twist the whole thing to make out that they were the ones to uncover the conspiracy. They’ll make examples of the Rechnovs, the Dumays and the Ngozis. But the rest – the rest will survive.’
‘You’re wrong,’ says Dien. But for the first time, she sounds uncertain. Adelaide feels a flicker of sympathy.
‘I know the City. I know how they work.’
‘So what? You think we should ignore this? Let your arsehole family get away with it, while you and I carry on as if nothing’s happened?’ Dien delivers a vicious kick to the bufferglass, and looks as if she’s about to follow it up with her fist, before thinking better of it.
‘So? Was it worth it?’
Adelaide pulls out the necklace.
‘This was my brother’s.’
‘And?’
She extracts the letter from her pocket.
‘His goodbye note.’
‘Is that it?’
Adelaide hesitates, twisting the shark tooth between thumb and finger. The enamel is smooth, the shark long dead. She thinks of her brother at the moment of writing, the horses cantering at the back of his mind even as he scripted his goodbye. She thinks of the ships who came looking, their carcasses sunk beyond the Atum Shelf with the weighted bones of the crews; the loved ones on land who would wonder, and after a time would try and fail to grieve, because they could not let go of a chance, an obstinate sliver of chance, that something might come back. She thinks of a burning tower, western hands pulling her from the waves, Mikaela’s voice:
because you need us
. A man with a scalpel and a salt box. Ole’s silent plea. She thinks of Dien’s face, bloodied and swollen, her breath huffing in the icy night, Adelaide’s body a mine of aches.
Are you done?
Dien, who is staring at her now, waiting for an answer.
She could lie, of course. She could tell Dien anything she wanted and Dien would believe her, because somehow, on that strange and volatile night, they reached an accord.
But she is done with lies.
‘Sit down,’ she says. ‘There’s something I need to tell you about. It’s called Operation Whitefly, and it’s been going on for a very long time.’
When she has finished talking, Dien sits with her hands clasped very tightly together, stupefied into silence. Adelaide has never seen her at a loss for words.
‘Fuck,’ says Dien at last. ‘Fuck.’
She stands up, sits down, and stands up again. She starts to circle the apartment.
‘This changes everything.’
‘I know.’
‘This – will bring down the Osiris Council.’
‘It would do.’
Dien pauses briefly by the window-wall. ‘You have to go back and get those papers, Rechnov.’
‘My family would be arrested. Possibly killed.’
‘Your family deserve to be killed. They’re murderers. Listen to what you’re telling me! They’ve executed entire crews, for stars’ sake. They’ve torpedoed ships.’
‘That was a long time ago – most of it happened after the Great Storm. My grandfather is dying.’ She keeps her voice firm. Dien will pounce on any hint of weakness. ‘He won’t last the year.’
Dien shakes her head.
‘Justice comes late. But it’s still justice.’ She nibbles at her lower lip, smudging what’s survived of her lipstick. ‘It’s still justice.’
‘Dien. I won’t let them take him.’
‘You can’t sit on this. This is our passport to breaking open the border!’
‘You think so?’
Something in Adelaide’s tone stops Dien in her tracks.
‘Of course it is.’
‘You think because you can expose my family, and a couple of other families, that the Council will suddenly open up the border?’
‘If we’re the ones to expose them—’
‘No. They’ll clamp down even harder. If they don’t claim it’s a hoax, they’ll twist the whole thing to make out that they were the ones to uncover the conspiracy. They’ll make examples of the Rechnovs, the Dumays and the Ngozis. But the rest – the rest will survive.’
‘You’re wrong,’ says Dien. But for the first time, she sounds uncertain. Adelaide feels a flicker of sympathy.
‘I know the City. I know how they work.’
‘So what? You think we should ignore this? Let your arsehole family get away with it, while you and I carry on as if nothing’s happened?’ Dien delivers a vicious kick to the bufferglass, and looks as if she’s about to follow it up with her fist, before thinking better of it.
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