Sammi

'Musa? Are you awake?'

Nothing. Just the gentle flutter of his soft feather breath against my cheek. I lie, head resting on his chest, unable to sleep. Each time he inhales, I ebb and flow like the tide upon the sand, gentle as a lullaby. But still. I can't sleep.

My head is too full. With strangers, and strange words. Making sense of them is like stumbling through fog. "We'll crush them so hard, they'll never sully the surface of our world again."

How on earth am I supposed to process something like that?

I cling to Musa, my ship in a storm. His arms wrap around me, anchoring me, making the dark, cramped room the Resisters have given us seem that little bit safer. That other boy, Kass, is huddled next to us on a blanket. His shaggy hair has fallen across his face, but I can still make out the furrow of his brow; whatever he's dreaming about, it looks unpleasant. He's curled into a foetal position, knees hugged to his chest; it makes me cling to Musa even tighter. I can't imagine going through this alone. My chest aches, listening to Kass wheeze in his sleep.

He just looks so alone.

We haven't seen Cotton since our intense first meeting. It's strange. It almost feels like the Resisters exhausted so much in trying to find us, that now they have, they're not quite sure what to do with us. Eldred tried, but proved a scant tour guide, disappearing for hours at a time, leaving us to wander. Labelle found us inspecting a pipe that was leaking some sort of smoking tar . . . after that, he took over the role of keeping an eye on us. But he's been little better than Eldred—he just wants us to watch him work. Which isn't as interesting as it sounds; mostly, he squints at a screen, typing and muttering codes to himself.

It takes a few days, but eventually the other Resisters seem to cotton on that we're here, and we're bored. Volunteers start to pour in, a motley mix of soldiers, scientists and engineers who fight to take us to breakfast, show us the gyms, the virtual-reality room, and generally keep us out of mischief. Away from anywhere "important".

I wonder what it is they don't want us to see.

One of Labelle's men, who introduced himself as Dylan Tanner, caught us after breakfast one morning, offering to show us what he called the "weather-tunnels".

'If the Futurists are manufacturing their own climate, we need to understand how,' Tanner explained, pushing Musa's head beneath the dripping web of pipes on the ceiling. 'It just seems impossible. What we can't understand is if they have this technology, why aren't they using it to reverse some of the climate damage? It makes no sense.' He also showed us the "data centre", a room jam-packed with computers and whirring, clunking machines; one had a probe that every few minutes sent out a shock of lightning.

'Keller's team might do the science.' Tanner beckoned us forwards to watch the probe. 'But it's us, the engineers, who make everything. Well.' He gave a sheepish smile. 'Some of us do. I don't personally, I'm just a soldier trained to use and fix stuff in battle. Someone's gotta do it.'

We went to see Dr Keller's labs not long after. They were the only places that looked properly clean, gleaming with bright-white plastic. There were lab benches strewn with glass tubes and coloured liquids; robotic arms transferring substances from bottle to bottle; holographic molecules floating over sharp-coloured panels, while other robots rotated them, merged them together, then broke them apart. Sometimes they would take the holograms to a computer, where they would be sucked into a sensor and appear on the screen.

We found Dr Keller knee-deep in an enormous glass tank. We peered inside; it was full of billowing emerald leaves, fanning themselves in the golden rays beaming down from orbs of light suspended above us. Great velvet petals, so soft, I ached to touch them—pinks, yellows and reds formed clusters of rainbows along a trickling stream. I gazed in wonder at the crystal-clear water. It glittered, iridescent in the light. I'd never seen fresh water without mist before.

'This is what Tellus was like before the Wars,' Keller breathed. His enthusiasm was infectious; Kass, Musa and I couldn't help inching closer to the tank to peer inside. 'Look. . . So colourful, so alive. The vibrancy—' He broke off with a laugh that animated his mild-mannered features. Just our being there with him seemed to make him giddy with delight; he thrust a bug-eating plant into Musa's hands, blew a white puff of seeds into Kass's hair, before gently placing something, with utmost care, into my cupped hands.

I gasped. A tiny thing, green and slimy, no larger than my fingernail, sat on my palm. Its chest pulsed, emitting a trill; it sounded so funny, I couldn't help giggling. Even Kass managed a smile, leaning forwards to squint at it.

'It's a frog,' Keller said, grinning from ear to ear. 'Isn't it beautiful?'

The frog hopped from finger to finger and we gazed at it in awe. I couldn't help wishing that my life could be so simple. One simple goal: to survive. A life of instinct, hopping from one hurdle to the next. Then I wondered if my life was really so different.

'What exactly is an Elementalist, Dr Keller?' I asked, finally allowing the frog hop back into Keller's palm.

He frowned. 'Well, no one knows exactly, not really. At least, not anyone on Tellus. But from my understanding, Elementalists exist in two forms: physical and ethereal. We believe that physical Elementalists have a natural affinity towards elements in a solid or liquid state—for example you, Kassius, are a solid Elementalist, meaning you are drawn to the manipulation of rocks and minerals. Ethereal Elementalists, on the other hand, can control the atmosphere, so, gaseous or plasma states of matter. You, Samma, seem to show affinity with the air around you, which would make you an ethereal Elementalist, at least, for now. I imagine that with practise, Elementalists could widen their fields of control, but, of course, this is all just theoretical.'

Keller seemed to enjoy our visit so much, he requested my return the very next day. I arrived with Musa, leaving a rather disgruntled Kass behind with Labelle; Keller had a job for me.

'Since you were curious about the details of your powers, I thought maybe we could conduct some preliminary research together. Recognise this?' He lifted a jar up to the light; I approached eagerly. But when I realised what it was, I recoiled.

'I've seen enough of that, thanks.' Mist. I regarded the silver and lavender spirals like a spark about to blow.

'Yes, I'm sure. I was wondering if you could help with a little something.'

The way Dr Keller was looking at me—it was like I was a fossil from an excavation site. Or an alien . . . or a god. Something shiny and rare to be utilised, analysed. Revered.

The same thing must have crossed Musa's mind. 'She's a person, not a new toy,' he snapped.

'Of course,' Keller nodded fervently, almost too sincere.

Are we safe here? I locked eyes with Musa, cocking my head slightly. Musa squeezed my hand. I imagined it meaning: probably not, but what better option do we have? Be on guard.

Thankfully, Keller was oblivious to our silent exchange, pushing the crystal jar of swirling mist towards me.

'As you know, our atmosphere is made up of mist like this.' He popped the rubber bung off the tube with a well-practised flick, holding his finger over the end. 'I want to see if you can separate this mist into its different components. Think you can do that?'

Pin-pricks of anxiety flooded down my spine. I watched, frozen, as Keller tipped the tube of air into my waiting hands.

A memory sprang to mind. I threw the mist to Musa, laughing as the ball sailed through his fingers. My dad sprinted towards us; I raised my arms, reaching up to him. Look at me, Daddy. Did you see what I did?

I could still see the look on his face. The shame. The disgust. My eyes clamped shut, sealing it away. 'I can't!' I gasped. 'I can't.'

'Sammi?' What's wrong?' Musa was beside me in an instant, smoothing the hair off my sweating brow. 'Did he hurt you?'

'Of course I didn't!' Keller held his hands up in innocence. 'All I did was give her the mist. She's not hurt, she's panicking. Samma, just calm down. What I'm asking shouldn't be unnatural; it should feel as autonomous as breathing. All I'm asking is that you deconstruct the mist. You can put each component in the jars on the bench behind you.'

I opened my eyes, trying as hard as I could to slow down my breathing. 'Is that all?'

'That's all.' Keller's voice was calm, reassuring. As I looked into his eyes, he smiled. 'You are very important to me; I'd never do anything to hurt you. Losing you was more painful than I can explain. Having you and Kass back—' he shook his head, with a small, sheepish smile, '—makes me think that maybe there's hope. Especially you, Samma. Your abilities are special, so precious, considering the toxicity of the air we live and breathe—'

'Oh, cut the crap.' Musa pushed Keller away from me, breaking our eye contact. 'Just get on with it.'

'Alright.' Keller folded his arms, regarding Musa with a cool expression. 'Calm down. Sammi, there's no pressure. Just do what feels right. It should be as simple as taking apart a jigsaw puzzle. I just want to see if you can do it.'

Do what feels right. . . What terrible advice. What felt right, in that moment, was bolting to the door.

But instead, I closed my eyes again. The mist felt solid, almost rough against my palms. I could feel it shifting, a current. With a deep breath, I focused all my attention on working the mist between my fingers, moulding it together as I'd practised with Musa before. At first, my fingers slipped through and my attention wavered for a second. But then—no. I reeled the wisps of mist back together again, coiling them around my fingers for safe keeping.

I started to notice that the particles felt different. Some were heavy and coarse; some were light, fluttering moths. Some were slow and sluggish in their attempts to escape me; others darted back and forth like frightened sheep fleeing the wolf.

'I think I'm going to need more than four tubes, Dr Keller.'

'You just put them in, I'll worry about the tubes and stoppers.'

I got to work. The tight band of worry across my chest lessened with each particle I prised apart; Dr Keller was right, this was natural, this was easy. Easier in fact than what I did with Musa by the bathing pool. I can only describe it as being a bit like tearing apart candy floss.

The last few slithers slipped through my fingers and I felt Keller squirrel them away. At last, my hands were empty. Barely daring to breathe, I opened my eyes.

Keller and Musa were staring at the lab bench. On top were no less than twenty tubes.

'Carbon dioxide.' Keller's voice squeaked with excitement as he pointed to each tube in turn. 'Methane; ammonia; a lot of sulphur dioxide; toluene; nitric oxide and nitrogen dioxide together—' He glanced at me questioningly, and I shrugged.

'They were more tricky to split so I kept them together.'

He nodded and carried on. 'Chlorofluorocarbons, again, I guess you decided not to split, no problem; a really worrying number of radioactive pollutants, mostly radon-222, iodine-131 and cesium-137; some ozone in this one; peroxyacetyl nitrate. . . oh, a lot of tobacco.' He shook his head, with a dazed expression. 'Want me to go on?'

'God no.' Musa looked like I'd punched him in the face. 'How did you know how to do that?'

'I don't know.' But that was only half true, and I couldn't help my lips creeping into a small, secret smile. It wasn't something I could ever explain. It was something innate.

It was part of me, this ability. Like my limbs. Like my blood.

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When Keller finally let me leave, we found Kass sat with Eldred in the canteen. He was furious at being left behind.

'What about my so-called powers?' He stabbed a carrot with his fork. I shrugged, focusing entirely on my meal; somehow the Resisters managed to squirrel enough food down here to satisfy their workers. Well, kind of; at least one meal a day was a Futurist nutrient shake. Dr Keller said that some Futurists never bother to eat, replacing all meals with grey substitute shakes. Whilst others eat such extravagant foods—constantly —that they grow obscenely overweight. Futurists really are impossible.

'Oh, come now, Puffin, don't get your knickers in a twist.' Eldred clapped him on the back with such gusto, Kass began to choke; Musa and I stifled a laugh. 'Keller's just bang smack in the middle of a particular piece of research that happens to be more relevant to Sammi than you. I'm sure, had you been there, you'd have been just as apathetic as you were in the barracks.'

'You went to the barracks?' Musa leaned forwards, his spoon half-way to his mouth, unaware of the gravy dripping down his arm. 'What were they like?'

'Alright, I guess.' Kass shrugged. 'Tanner was there, but Labelle wanted to introduce me to some front-line soldiers. I don't know why.'

'Front-line soldiers? What, like infantry? What do they do?'

'Lots of things,' Eldred interrupted. 'Haven't you seen the uprisings on the television?'

'Uprisings?' Kass looked confused. 'There aren't any uprisings, everyone loves Jinaka. Well.' His expression darkened, his hands balling into fists. 'They did.'

'Not true,' Musa bit back. 'You must have lived in one of those pro FUTURE villages. You know,' he sniggered. 'Where suck-ups sit around with scraps bleating it will be our turn next to be relocated, I know it!'

'Shut UP.' Kass leapt to his feet, cheeks scarlet; I placed a cautionary hand on Musa's arm. 'You don't know what you're talking about—'

'Musa's right,' Eldred sighed. 'It's terrible how many villages live in fruitless hope, blindly believing in FUTURE beyond all logic or reason. But they are not to be mocked.' Eldred frowned at Musa, who had the grace to look abashed. 'They are to be pitied, and—to have such faith in such dire conditions. . .' He shook his head. 'I have only admiration for such people.'

Kass sank back down, burying his head in his arms. We all politely averted our eyes. Eldred had finally told Musa and I about Kass's village. . . I couldn't even begin to imagine how I'd feel if that were Musa, my family, my people.

'But they are living a lie,' Eldred continued. 'All they see is the propaganda, not the resistance faced by Futurists every day. We have forces all over the world laying sieges to food supplies, raiding trade routes, intercepting their technology. Many of our soldiers work as spies, whilst the rest of the medics, engineers and infantry are trained to be ready for the next war. We think that's how this will end, eventually.'

We finished our dinner in silence. Kass didn't touch the remainder of this meal, and when we got up to go to bed, a cleaner-bot scurried his plate away. I felt a pang of distaste for the wasted food.

Really, it's no wonder my head is too full to sleep. The days re-play over and over as I wait for the boys to wake up. Cotton's finally reserved a day for us, to go over our "duties as Elementalists", whatever that means. I can't fathom how Kass is able to sleep.

Then I notice that his eyes are open, staring blankly at the ceiling. A tear tracks down his cheek, disappearing into his hair.

I pretend to be asleep.

*

When Musa finally wakes up, we make our way to breakfast where Eldred's waiting. Something's got him excited; he's tapping his foot faster than usual with an extra twinkle in his eye that makes me nervous. There's a thick, tense anticipation amongst the workers too. As Eldred leads us to Cotton's boardroom, they call out things like 'fingers crossed, Eldred!' or 'maybe today!'

All we can do is scurry after him.

We arrive to find Cotton pacing her office, her face baked into a scowl that only relaxes slightly upon seeing us. She gestures for us to sit at the enormous table, where Văn and Dr Keller are already gathered. Dr Keller shoots me a discrete wave, and reluctantly, I smile back. It's difficult not to like the owlish man.

'Shall we wait for Labelle?' Eldred asks, plonking himself in the nearest chair and swinging around like a child.

'Let's not.' Cotton shakes her head at Eldred in disapproval, before turning to me and Kass. 'I'm sorry it's taken so long to meet with you, Elementalists. Sorry, McKenzie and Fazil, right? You've just been "Elementalists" to us for so long, it feels odd using your names. Anyway, I don't want to keep you waiting any longer.'

'Sure,' Kass says, sounding a little snide. Cotton's right eye twitches.

'I'm sure you have lots of questions, but we'll have to keep this brief. Brie is due back from an important mission, so this will need to be wrapped up by the time she returns.'

'Alright.' I bite back a pretty snide remark of my own. Why is she acting like we're objectives on a to-do list? 'Can I ask something first?'

'No,' comes Cotton's short rebuttal. 'Questions can wait. I don't want to repeat myself; time is of the essence.'

I glance at Kass and he rolls his eyes; with a sigh, I lean back in my chair, letting Musa take my hand. Cotton clears her throat.

'So Tellus used to be separated into independent countries, each with their own government: the Caeltanican Empire, the Kingdom of Amariland, the Slavskani Republic—it goes on. However, what was law in one country was not necessarily law in another; different governing bodies clashed, and after hundreds of years of tension, the Nuclear Wars began. It was war like the galaxy had never seen, and as other planets got involved, the damage grew greater and deadlier. The wars lasted fifty years, leaving Tellus in ruins. Before the local governments could pull themselves together, Jinaka swooped in and set up a single government, FUTURE, which eventually spread over the entirety of Tellus.

'Under enormous pressure, all forms of nuclear power were banned. Jinaka decided that Tellus would join the Republic of Extra-terrestrials, an uneasy union between the planets Ra, Lares, Vesta and Ceres, which is where FUTURE gets its name: the Futurist Utopia of Tellus, Under the Republic of Extra-terrestrials. From then on, Jinaka relied heavily on aid from Ra in particular. Our population was sick and dying, and without power, the Futurists didn't know what to do. Ra stepped in with a solution; a technology we are still struggling to understand today. They gave the Futurists a "capsule", made from a substance that the Ra call visinium.'

'Visinium?' I echo.

Cotton nods. 'We believe it only occurs naturally on Ra. The capsule, from what we gather, triggers changes in the surrounding atmosphere, or put simply, the weather. Over time, the Futurists bought more capsules; we believe they now possess three and assume they plan to purchase and install more. They use the visinium capsules to trigger violent weather conditions, like earthquakes, and collect the energy generated as a replacement for nuclear power.

'Clever, really. Except, constantly triggering natural disasters makes the damage to the atmosphere even worse. But they don't care; more of our land gets rigged up to the capsules every year. All the Huan volcanoes are linked to the Gamma-Capsule; the Beta-Cap connects pretty much the whole of Slavskanistan; and there are trigger points for the Alpha-Cap all over Amariland, the Sǝhrazon west coast and mainland Caeltanica. Caeltanica is basically uninhabitable, more people moved offshore to the Cloud Islands every year.

'Clearly, life like this isn't sustainable. But the Futurists have found that not only do they make enough energy to support Singavere, they're making a tonne of money by selling the excess back to Ra and Lares.'

'Hang on—so instead of providing us with the energy, they're selling it?' Musa exclaims, earning himself a smack on the back of the head from Eldred.

Cotton ignores him. 'By the time they rigged up the third capsule, their evacuation programme had been signed off. The inhabitants of Tellus began to be shipped off to safer planets, so FUTURE can make a killing farming the world left behind.'

Cotton resumes her agitated pacing, her features twisting into pure, unadulterated hatred.

'But the worst part? The lies—are they really going to evacuate every person on Tellus? Of course not. Other than rich Singavereans, most of us don't even get protection. Once the "important" members of society are safely evacuated, the rest of us will be left here to rot, whilst the relocated Futurists continue to line their pockets.'

Cotton's hands slam down on the table-top and she leans in towards us. On reflex, I inch closer, so I'm right next to Kass; I see the perspiration clinging to his forehead. He looks like a frightened little boy.

But me? Well. The storm brewing in my chest feels more like rage than fear.

'The Futurists were right about one thing,' Cotton hisses. 'The Nuclear Wars did do unimaginable damage. But we at RESIST haven't given up. Do you know why we are called RESIST? Because we believe in Restoration, Equality, Social-rights and Independence to Save Tellus. We are the Caeltanicans, the Slavskani, the Amarish, the Huans and the Sǝhrazons, and we want to resist. We want to fight back. Our aim is to destroy the visinium capsules; without them, our planet might have a chance to heal.

'But the capsules are strong. None of our previous agents sent to destroy them ever returned. There seems to be a limit to how close we can get to them—our agents succumbed to a variety of horrible deaths.

'We thought we would never be able to destroy them. Until we created you.'

'Us?' I whisper.

'You. We'd all but given up hope when a double-agent from Ra contacted us through the black market. He claimed to have highly classified research, weapons that could control and manipulate the capsules, and ultimately, destroy them. When we finally received the weapons. . . They were you. Four of you, before you were born; embryos in small, strange incubators. Keller studied you before and during your implantation into host-mothers, and found your development to be . . . odd. He eventually concluded that you could, as the informant said, grow to have powers to control, and even destroy, the capsules.

'But we were betrayed. Just after your births, the Futurists discovered you and launched an attack on our base. Everything we'd worked on was destroyed—everything, that is, except the four of you. Eldred took you and ran, hiding you within the population, in the desperate hope that you would survive. And now, you're back. Now, two of you are finally home, and we can start what should have happened many, many years ago—'

'This is crazy,' Kass breathes. His voice makes me jump; I suddenly realise my nails have been digging grooves in my arm. My whole body is crackling with a nervous pulse, an electricity. It's like, even though my mind barely understands, my primal instincts do.

'Crazy? No, McKenzie, far from it. I can see the world that was ripped away from us so long ago. I can see how close it is, and how we can take it back.'

Cotton takes a huge breath and collapses back into her chair. I stare at her. Musa's making these weird choking noises, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief.

I want to say something . . . but what? Okay, so I'm one of four people in the world who can destroy the capsules and stop the Futurists. What then?

'How does that save her?'

'Who?' Cotton's brow puckers at me.

'My sister, Nura. She's dying from the sickness. If I destroy the capsules, and you take over—I get how it saves us. But, how does it save her?'

From Cotton's nose comes a huff, as she sits back, regarding me, fingers pressed to her lips. It's as though, in that question, we've reached a silent, but mutual, understanding.

'Outside of Singavere, vaccines are only given to children aged sixteen. Why? Because the more people die, the fewer that need feeding, clothing, evacuating. But Singavereans are all vaccinated from birth and no one even thinks to question it. I would roll out a nation-wide vaccination program starting with everyone who is sick, so that no one, no one, dies from the sickness under my rule.'

Just hang on, Nu. I'll save you, I promise.

'No!'

My chair is shoved backwards as Musa pushes in front of me. His shoulders shake as he leans across the table towards Cotton, his eyes dark. 'You can't ask Sammi to do this. It's too dangerous—'

'Who are you to speak for her?' Cotton rises sharply. She marches swiftly around the table, reaches out and grabs his hair, yanking him nose-to-nose.

I spring to my feet. 'Let him go!'

'Listen to me,' she roars, spit flying in his face. 'If we want to live—any of us—we need to risk our lives. Not just the Elementalists—all of us. We have no choice. Our world is dying, and if it does, we all die with it.'

'But—' Kass blinks. He looks like he's been abruptly woken from a deep trance. 'The evacuations. . . How do you know they won't save everyone?'

Văn speaks for the very first time. His voice is nothing, flat and deadpan. A zombie's voice. 'Like they saved your village?'

Kass's trance breaks.

His fists slam the table-top with a howl of anguish that tears across my heart like the slash of a whip. The force shakes the ground and the entire screen shatters, shards flying in all directions. Everyone jumps to their feet, yelling and swearing, and even Eldred looks startled, kicking himself backwards on his swivel chair.

'SHUT UP,' Kass screams. 'SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UUUUP. . .'

'Cotton!'

The office door opens and Labelle walks in. He stops in the doorway, eyes widening as he takes in the scene: Kass shrieking at the top of his lungs; the table lying in chunks, steaming smoke up to the ceiling; us standing in the mess in silence.

'Oh. . .'

'Is she back?' Something lights up behind Cotton's eyes as she turns her back on Kass and the mess.

'Right behind me.' Labelle grins and Cotton closes her eyes, her taught cheekbones finally relaxing.

'Should my ears be burning?'

'Brie!'

Brie strides into the room, face alight with mischief. 'Well, jeez. You guys have all the fun without me.' She points at Kass. 'Hey you, ground-breaker-boy. Couldn't you have waited a couple more minutes to wreck the place?'

'What news?' Cotton runs towards her and grabs Brie's wrists, as the rest of the team follow.

Kass sways on the spot. His meltdown instantly, and completely, forgotten. Then he sinks to the floor, glass slicing his knees.

'Only the best!'

'You found the last one?'

'Finally. Through the black market, no less.' She brings out a device from her pocket and presses the middle button; a small, life-like hologram appears of a boy with messy hair and a lot of ear-piercings. 'He's a ward of this stinking-rich twat called Titus Titanium—I know, the priceless names these Futurists have—and you won't believe what he's doing. It's no wonder we couldn't find him We were looking in the wrong places.'

'Why?' Cotton frowns. She's twisting her hands together, like she's trying to restrain them. 'What's he doing?'

'He's basically a little black-market bitch!' Brie laughs, throwing her head back in delight. 'Selling his talents to the highest bidder. I thought we might have our work cut out with him, so I tried him out to see what he can do. Don't worry, he's good.' She nods, thoughtfully. 'Very good.'

'Not as good as Sammi, surely,' Dr Keller interrupts, gesturing in my direction; my face shines. 'She separated the air pollution into all its components!'

'Oh, Keller,' Brie scoffs. 'Only you. Just wait and see what Rai can do.'

'That's settled then.' Eldred stands, almost tipping over his seat in enthusiasm. 'Sammi, Puffin—looks like our next mission is set. Tomorrow we head out for—'

'Singavere,' Brie quips.

I look over at Kass, motionless and bleeding in the glass. And I realise I'm crying; my hand rises to feel tears streaking down my face. But before I can blink them away, Kass is gone.

'Kassius?' Eldred shouts, but it's too late; Kass storms from the room, slamming the door behind him. I let Musa gather me up into his arms and close my eyes on the world.

But then, beyond the darkness, a picture springs to mind, so clear, so stark; Nura, my Nura, lying in bed, as though asleep. Except, she's not asleep. She's dying.

My hands ball into fists.

Bring it on. If I need to risk my life in order to save the ones I love? I glance up at Musa, then close my eyes again.

Then I will. I'll do anything. Risk anything.

For Nura.