The Sowing

“Tycho kept a journal. After his recruitment, I found it hidden among his personal effects. The final portion’s been damaged. Been working on restoring the bloody thing, but no luck so far. That’s what’s kept me from showing it to anyone else—I need to be sure.” His eyes burrowed into mine. “Maybe you can make sense of it, mate.”

Then he turned and disappeared into the veil of snow.

———

And now, after hours of tossing and turning, I remove the holodisc from where I’ve hidden it under my bunk. I jam it into my holocam, pop in an oval earpiece so none of the sleeping trainees can hear it, and slide under the sheets. My trembling finger hesitates before hitting the play button.

There’s a burst of three-dimensional static as the image begins to glow, and I take a quick peek from under the covers to make sure everyone else is still asleep. Then I turn on my side and position the holo off the edge of my bunk, which is right next to the corner of the room. For a second, there’s just eddies of electronic artifacts, and I worry that the disc has been damaged beyond repair.

But then it begins to morph, and I inhale sharply as Digory’s face appears.

His bright blue eyes are so full of excitement, so full of life. Unlike the last time I saw them, wrapped in that sickly caul. I shove that memory aside. His tawny hair hangs wildly about his handsome face and he’s dressed in the same tattered coat he was wearing the first time we connected in that dingy alley.

As Digory’s hand reaches out to adjust his recorder’s lens, I can almost imagine he’s extending it to me, and I catch myself before reaching out to touch the image.

“Not much time left before the Recruitment Ceremony,” he says.

The sound of his voice reignites so many emotions I’ve forced myself to let freeze over. I’d never thought I’d ever hear him again.

“I can’t risk this recording falling into the wrong hands, which is why I’ll destroy it after the ceremony,” he continues. “I’ve just made contact with Lucian Spark. I opened up to him about the rebellion—tried to convince him to join.” He shakes his head and a slight grin appears on his face. “But Lucian’s a stubborn one. I remember the way he used to give instructors a hard time in classes, always pressing them, always questioning the facts.” His face goes serious again. “He really loves his brother. That’s all he has left.” Digory’s eyes seem to pierce right through the image and into mine. “If Lucian gets recruited today, I have no doubt he’d die trying to save Cole.”

Now it’s my turn to smile, although it’s laced with heartache. Even back then, he already knew me so well.

Digory shoots a look behind him, and, when he turns back to the cam, anxiety fills his face. “I’ve got to get to Town Square for the ceremony. Hopefully I can make contact with Lucian again before things start.” He leans closer to the cam, until his entire face fills the image. I can almost feel the warmth of his breath on my face. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get him to join our cause. I just need more time—”

The lights in the dorm flare, cutting through the darkness like a supernova. I quickly shut off the holocam and stuff it under my mattress.

“Rise and shine, maggots!” Renquist blares from the doorway. “Ascension Day has arrived!”

As Leander, Dahlia, Rodrigo, and Arrah scramble to their feet, I pause for a moment, Digory’s face still burned into my vision. When they’ve left to go shower, I retrieve the yellow pills and the retrofitted Fifth Tier pin from under my bunk.

I’ll never give up, Digory.

Today is for you.

ELEVEN

That morning during breakfast in the commissary, the five of us are treated to a celebratory Ascension Day feast. Everyone’s so excited by the festivities that it’s easy to slip the powdered residue of the crushed GX07 pills into the orange juice before we toast.

My fellow trainees are all in great spirits. Dahlia actually compliments me on how I look in my uniform, and even Leander and Rodrigo—after all their bullying and verbal abuse—tease me in a brotherly way. I sense something different; a grudging respect that’s never been there before. They see me as someone who’s paid his dues. I’m one of them now.

After we’re done with breakfast and Dahlia pulls out her holocam to snap one final group picture commemorating the event, we march single file from the Citadel into Town Square. The growing sounds of the assembling crowd buzz in my ear like a hornet’s nest. But no matter how loud it gets, it can’t drown out the one thought bombarding my brain over and over again like a strategic military campaign: Cassius is about to die and I am his murderer.