Sector Six Detainment Center, Prime Dome
Planet Irkalla, Survivor’s Refuge
4452.2.15 Interstellar
It felt strange returning to Sector Six wearing his aspirant soft suit. Only a week ago, there had been riots against outsiders, and many Primers were ready to blame him for what happened to Craig and the other sixteen people who’d died in the airlock incident. Even now, he was getting hate mail, death threats, and the vilest slander he could imagine—worse even than when he was an anonymous outsider, even being from Prometheus Base.
But it wasn’t all bad. As much hate as he received, it was drowned out by the love and support he’d gotten from both the outsider and Primer community. Callie had shown him how to sort his messages and use a sentiment-analysis algorithm on all the messages he’d received from strangers, and they were overwhelmingly positive, celebrating his success as if it was their own.
And it was their success. The only reason he had a shot at this was because the Prime Dome administrators needed a token outsider to run in the Trials, whether he was up to the job or not. Ivan’s little stunt had helped sell the lie—they’d apparently had real, professional dusters on buggies shadowing him the whole way, and tapped his helmet cam feed to relay back to Prime Dome. For a day and a half, the whole dome had been on pins and needles, watching him get ditched and struggle, and fail, and get back up again. What surprised him the most about the messages he read—the positive ones, because most of the trolls thought it had all been faked—was how much those people believed in him, how much they felt like they knew him, and claimed him as their own.
It had all been a masterful marketing campaign. “Good thing I didn’t quit,” he said to Ivan as they passed the duty sergeant’s raised desk.
His uncle stopped him with an arm across his chest. “Okay, I was afraid of this.”
“What?” Janus said, worried he’d done something else wrong.
“You’ve spent half your life getting crapped on, being told you weren’t good enough, and you don’t remember the other half when you had an amazing mother and father who loved you and thought you and your sister were the future of Prometheus Base. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that loving, comforting presence in your life, but I needed to make you tough, and competent, and I did a damned good job of that.”
“You don’t have to coddle me, Ivan. I know I’m not perfect.”
“Nobody’s perfect!” Ivan said, poking him in the chest with his index finger. “No one! Not me, not the wayfinders, not your sainted mother and father! Your mother dropped out of aspirant training back home. She was a brilliant researcher. I ran and won the Trials twice, and I trained champions. Still crawled into the bottom of a bottle because… because sometimes the world is just too damned sad, and it was too much for me. What you just went through was worse than most aspirants used to go through during the Trials. That’s changing… Now, it’s going to take everything you’ve got to survive and to win. And you need to win, Janus. A Primer won the Trials last year. You need to give Bennin his bright and shining outsider who can be just as good, because otherwise everyone’s going to say we lost this year because we let an outsider in. Is that fair? No. But that’s how it is, and out of all the outsiders they could have sent on the job, including me, they’ve decided to send you. I agreed with them. You’re worthy.”
Janus felt completely uncomfortable with what he was hearing. “Uncle, I’m not—”
“You are worthy, Janus Invarian. And you’re going to win. Say it,” Ivan said in a voice that brooked no argument.
“I’m worthy and I’m going to win.” He felt stupid saying it, and yet it was as if a small weight lifted from his shoulders. He could almost believe it.
“Good,” Ivan said, slapping him on the shoulder. “I’m not good at this cheerleader stuff, but it’s true, and it’s about time you realized it.” He resumed his walk toward the exit, and Janus followed.
The noise was deafening as they came out of the Sector Six detainment center and entered Sector Six proper. As many people as had been waiting at the airlock in Sector Four, this was more, and they were his people. They wanted to see him, to reach out, to know he was real, that one of them had been catapulted from the dregs of society to the very pinnacle.
He raised his hand and waved, and they cheered. He felt like a complete phony doing it, but his uncle was right. It wasn’t about him right now, it was about creating the conditions under which the dome could thrive.
The amount of sensory input was overwhelming. Janus had a hard time breaking individuals out of the cheering crowd, parsing through the congratulations, the encouragements, and the questions. Some of the faces were angry, but they were quickly pushed back by the crowd.
One man pushed his way to the barriers and grabbed his hand.
“Hey, you! Remember me? I helped you fix the airlock the other day, even though half the damn people were complaining like crazy.”
It took Janus a moment to realize who it was.
It was the time-is-money guy.
“Yeaaah, you remember me. Look, I got a deal for you. You know safety, and the things I make are the safest things around. If you endorse my—”
Ivan snatched the guy’s wrist and shoved him back into the crowd. “Come on. You’ll have all the time in the world for endorsements after you win the Trials. Right now, it’s time to go meet your second.”
Janus nodded. He still did his best to acknowledge people, to be the symbol they needed him to be, but he kept moving forward and stayed out of reach. Twenty minutes later, they reached Tartarus and walked in through the VIP entrance.
***
Janus had been to Tartarus once or twice a month since he’d reached the dome’s drinking age. He couldn’t always afford to; Ryler had always been a good sport about buying him a drink, and Janus hadn’t been shy about nursing a beer for an hour or even two, just to soak in the atmosphere. But whether with Ryler or not, he’d never come in through the VIP entrance. The owner, a man about Admininistrator Bennin’s age from the failed dome of Ravengrave, was the first person to shake Janus’s hand. “Congratulations, young man. It’s good to see one of us representing the dome. Didn’t think it would happen in my lifetime.”
“I’ll be following the Trials, too,” a girl Janus’s age said, next to him.
“I hope I don’t disappoint you,” Janus said.
She flicked him her comm details. “Give me a call when you get back, and I’ll let you know.”
Janus glanced back at the proprietor. There was a definite family resemblance. Daughter? Niece? Either way, the owner gave him a pat on the shoulder and the girl’s intentions couldn’t have been clearer.
It was great to have duty, honor, and glory driving him on, but it was nice having a more tangible reason to come back a winner.
He shook hands with the other people lining the entryway, most of them in the semi-official uniform of Tartarus staff. They all looked happy for him, maybe happy for themselves as well. It hadn’t occurred to him that during the twelve years he’d been a resident of Prime Dome, he’d never seen himself in the annual competition. It wasn’t going to keep out the void or feed their families, but Janus knew that sometimes hope was the rarest resource of them all.
“Good luck, Invarian!” a cute girl said after him. “Can’t wait to see how you do!”
Janus almost said that he could very well have waited another six or eight months, getting the training any Prime Dome aspirant before him would have expected to get, but he wasn't about to say that to her. Instead he just thanked her and moved on, hoping she got what she needed out of the encounter.
The VIP track circled the outside of the room, allowing the high and mighty to see and be seen by the regular crowd before ascending to the upper level. People waved at him, but they stayed back from the velvet ropes, doubtlessly wary of the dome-sec officers and Tartarus bouncers on duty. Janus and Ivan climbed the stairs.
There were over a hundred people at the pre-departure soirée, and they were all there to see him. Janus felt those hundreds of eyes press against him as he was announced.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Janus Invarian, Prime Dome’s aspirant!” the DJ announced.
Polite clapping and a few whistles sounded from the upper-class crowd. Janus saw Ryler for the first time in a week; to his surprise, the Hub-dwelling Primer was dressed in white robes and standing with Nikandros, although his friend had fewer folds in his robe, and he wasn’t wearing a mask. The sight of Ryler dressed as a member of the cult made Janus’s throat tighten. He was about to walk over there and ask Ryler what the hell was going on when someone else approached him.
“Congratulations, Invarian. I guess you proved all of us wrong,” Lira Allencourt said.
Janus turned to face her. Lira was part of Prime Dome’s high society, or maybe the tier just below it. She’d been an aspirant’s second. It made sense for her to be here, he just hadn’t expected it. “Lira.”
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“It’s okay,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to see me, either. Fact is, I misjudged you, Invarian. My father said you were the one to seal my suit and pull me to safety. I’m not sure how you could stomach that, after what I did to you.”
“It’s what anybody would do,” Janus said, knowing full well he almost hadn’t for a split second.
“Yeah,” Lira said with a smirk.
A waiter stopped to offer Janus a drink from a platter. Janus started to decline, but Lira grabbed two and put one in his hands. “Keep it on you, pretend to drink from it, or everyone will want to buy you a drink. You need to stay sober; you hit the road in twenty-four hours.”
It was surprisingly practical and friendly advice from someone he’d always thought of as a scheming witch. Her face was still slightly swollen from the incident, but looking a lot better than the last time they were face to face. “I’m glad to see you’re recovering,” he said.
Lira grimaced. “You too. Thought we were all going to watch you die yesterday.”
“You were watching?” Janus asked, surprised.
“The whole dome was watching.” She looked around. People were watching them. “I’ve taken enough of your time. You need to circulate, meet your betters. These people will all be useful to you when you get back.”
“Thanks, Lira,” Janus said. “Good luck to you. I’ll look forward to cheering for you next year.”
She gave him a pained look, like he really was a bit too simple, and said, “Good luck out there.”
Janus watched her go. It had been big of her to approach him like that. He could have reacted badly and tried to shame her in front of all these people. Then again, she was better than him at that. Maybe she’d expected and planned for it. Maybe she’d hoped she could turn it to her advantage.
At least she hadn’t begged him to take her on as his second.
“Well done,” Ivan said at his elbow, and Janus almost jumped. He’d forgotten his uncle was there. “Let’s go meet the person who’s going to save your life.”
The two of them made their way through the crowd, greeting people politely but staying on course for the center of the room. He’d missed his opportunity to speak to Ryler, but hopefully there was still time to talk to him before he left. In the midst of it all, Administrator Bennin was talking to a group of well-dressed people, some of whom Janus recognized from his hearing as the administrators of the other sections of the dome. The Sector Six administrator smiled warmly at him. After all, he was a success story from her district, perhaps one of the only bright spots in the recent string of maintenance failures and civil unrest. The Sector Four administrator—the only administrator to have voted against Janus’s nomination during the hearing—also greeted him with what seemed like real enthusiasm. Clearly, Janus had misunderstood something about the political situation.
He almost wished he had Lira there to tell him what it was.
“It’s good to see you, Aspirant Invarian,” Bennin said. “I want to introduce you to Remi Wexler. We took the liberty of selecting him from the pool of candidates to be your second. I trust you’ll agree we made the right choice.”
Bennin stepped aside to reveal a young man just slightly older than Janus who was also wearing an aspirant’s soft suit.
“Remi,” the other man said, offering him his hand. “Good to meet you, Janus.”
Janus shook it. They both had firm grips, and neither tried to squeeze harder than they needed to.
“Why don’t you two find someplace to talk?” Ivan said. “The booths have privacy fields—although don’t expect actual privacy.”
Janus didn’t know what a privacy field was, but he expected he’d find out. “Good idea. That work for you?”
“I’ll follow your lead,” Remi said.
Janus made his way toward the outer edge of the room. Remi followed, politely declining several offers of drinks from both wait staff and other celebrants. All the booths were occupied, but knowing he couldn’t let something that small tie him in knots in front of his second, he did what Uncle Ivan would have done and headed for the nearest booth. “Excuse me, do you mind? My second and I need to talk.”
The man sitting at the booth looked up at him in annoyance, but said, “Of course, Aspirant. We were just leaving.” He and his guest, a very attractive younger man, stood up and walked away.
Not a perfectly smooth exchange, but it had worked. Maybe Ivan wasn’t full of crap after all.
As soon as Janus slid into the booth, the sound from the party died down, like he was wearing earplugs, but he could hear Remi clearly.
“That was ballsy!” his second said. “I think that guy owns half of the warehouses in Sector Two and Sector Three!”
“You know him?”
Remi shrugged. “He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t that type.”
They exchanged a few pleasantries, and when the waiter came by, Remi ordered a non-alcoholic beer. He was from an outsider family—almost second generation, since he’d been born on the fourth day after his parents’ arrival at Prime Dome. He was a mechanic, like Janus, and it was clear from the first minutes that he was organized and pragmatic, and they were going to get along. “I never expected to be chosen for this,” Remi admitted. “Only thought I’d ever be a backup if they picked a Primer with bad mech skills, and they wanted to send an outsider along to keep their equipment running.”
Janus laughed. He’d have thought the same thing.
They discussed the route, which pretty much disqualified a non-technical aspirant anyway, seeing as several of the places they were going would require a certain level of technical comfort to be survivable. “I think that’s why they paired us up,” Remi said. “I won’t make any trouble for you. We’ll do the route, do things right, and finish before the other teams clean, without any of the politicking or drama. I think that’s the only way to do it.”
That gave Janus pause, but he kept going, hoping his growing unease wasn’t justified.
When they’d finished talking through the logistics of the route—the types of buggies they’d use, the extra tools they’d need, and who would carry what—Janus asked if Remi had any questions.
“Yeah, actually,” Remi said, taking a sip from his beer. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but it’s been bugging me since yesterday. What’s the ratio of methane to LOx you used to get that buggy going?”
That was when Janus knew. Remi was like his mirror image. He was competent, affable, and Janus would have had no problem working a shift with him anywhere in the dome. Traveling with him would be easy, but it would also get them both killed. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re the right match.”
Remi hesitated. “Is this some kind of interview trick? See how I handle rejection?”
“No,” Janus said, standing up. “Come with me.”
Remi did as he was told, but Janus could tell he didn’t like it. Janus wished he could have explained, taken the time to let him down easy, but there was no way they had time for that. He had a day at most to fix this.
Bennin turned toward him as he approached. “Ah, gentlemen, I hope…” He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I have no idea,” Remi said, clearly frustrated. “He said we’re not a right match.”
“We’re too good of a match,” Janus said. He started telling Bennin about their conversation. Ivan joined them, and Janus was going to start over, but his uncle gestured for him to go on. Janus continued his summary, finishing with Remi asking him about the methane to LOx ratio.
“You don’t want to work with him because he asked the wrong question?” Bennin asked, starting to lose his patience.
“It’s the right question,” Janus said. “For me. It’s the exact question I would have asked, which means that collectively, we have a blind spot.”
Remi looked like he was about to argue, but Janus could tell the exact moment he figured it out from the look on his face. “Oh, yeah. No, I see it now. I mean, case in point, right?”
Bennin looked at Ivan.
Ivan shrugged. “I told you he’d see the problem.”
Bennin pinched the bridge of his nose. “The problem is that we have a shortage of qualified and willing candidates. If we’d had more time, we could have tried a few pairings, worked out the personality conflicts, but Remi’s the only one where there wasn’t going to be a conflict.”
“Right,” Remi said, pointing over his shoulder. “I’m just going to go get a drink, then, since I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thanks, Remi,” Janus said before turning back to Bennin and Ivan. “What about Lira?”
Ivan snorted.
“What?” Janus asked. “She was competent enough to be the previous aspirant’s second, and she knows things I’m never going to have time to learn.”
Ivan’s eyes widened. “She had you fired, she tried to provoke you in the bar, and she had me thrown in jail for it.”
“I know,” Janus said. “And she almost got away with it. That’s not how I think. It’s not a solution I could ever have come up with, and even if I had, I couldn’t pull it off.”
“Are you sure about this, Aspirant Invarian?” Bennin asked. “This isn’t the time to experiment with your management style. You’re making a permanent choice that will have a significant impact on your chances of survival.”
“I’m not sure of anything,” Janus said. “I’m not even sure she’d accept if I asked her, but she’s already helped me once tonight,” Janus said, hefting his untouched drink at his uncle. “I’m sure she has more to offer me than Remi does.”
Ivan sighed. “Then you’d better go ask her.”
Janus spotted her just as she was heading toward the staircase to leave. “Lira, wait!”
Lira stood stiffly, waiting for him to catch up. A good number of the people at the party interrupted their conversations to watch what was about to happen.
“What’s wrong, Invarian?” Lira asked, halfway between challenging and uncertain. “Realize you’d been too nice to me earlier and come back to take your shot? It’s the right time to do it. Everybody who’s anybody is watching.”
Janus smiled and laughed. “Damn, I hope this is the right decision. Listen, Lira. I know we’ve had our differences. Hell, maybe we always will. But I also know how good you are at what you do. How about it? You wanna be my second?”
“That’s… insane,” she said.
“Why?”
“Why?” Lira echoed. “You understand we’d be out there, on the roads, far from anything, and if either of us get pissed off and make a mistake, we’re both dead, right?”
“That won't happen. We’ll focus on what's important. Right?” Janus asked.
Lira hesitated, searching his eyes. “Of course I would. Yes. The Trials are the only thing that matter.”
“And if we disagreed? I say left, you say right?”
“I’d ask for your reasons and give you mine if we had time, but you’d be in charge, Janus. You’re the aspirant.”
“Unless Janus dies. Then you’d be the aspirant, wouldn’t you, Allencourt?” Ivan said, joining them.
Lira snorted. “Have you seen how popular he is? If I survived the trip and came home, I wouldn’t last a week.”
Ivan laughed, although Janus wasn’t exactly comfortable with how fast she’d come up with that answer.
“Have you come to a decision?” Bennin said, joining them as well.
Janus looked at Lira, Ivan, and then Bennin in turn before saying, “I think Lira gives me the best chance of succeeding as Prime Dome’s aspirant.”
“And as the aspirant,” Lira said, falling into her role without missing a beat, “he has the right to choose his second, and his second accepts.”
The two of them stood together, looking at Bennin and Ivan.
“Told you so,” Ivan said to Bennin with a grin.
Bennin sighed and flicked him five credits over his wrist-comm. “It was a fair wager. We’ll have to do something about the swelling in her face.”
“A night in the cryotherapy pod should fix that.”
“Wait a minute,” Janus said, interrupting them. “You bet money I’d pick Lira as my second?”
“More of a sure thing,” Ivan said, patting his shoulder. “My nephew’s a smart man. Ms. Allencourt, welcome to Team Invarian. I hope you know that if you come back without him, I’ll be one of the people who come looking for you.”
“Thanks,” Lira said, back straight and chin up. “That’s good to know.”