Stone in the Sky by Cecil Castellucci Page A

with all the Imperium Guards around only meant death. And while I had not cared about that, Tournour had tried to show me that patience, which I did not have, and strategy, which I was slow on, was the only way to get what you wanted, and to live.
    He took a seat in one of the large chairs and looked bored, as though he didn’t care for me. Not even his antennae were paying attention to me.
    As close to Tournour as I was, in this moment I knew that I had to pretend he was no friend of mine now. I had to face him as an enemy.
    I steeled myself.
    One thing that I knew about Tournour is that he would fight to keep the Yertina Feray safe, and right now I was in the way of that. That was one difference between the Loor and the Human. The Loor always had the greater task in mind. If it meant taking me down, he would do it. I was just one Human, even if I was his.
    But Humans would fight for each other.
    I laughed. Neither way was better or worse.
    I was being interrogated about every aspect of my business. I was glad that I had always insisted on being paid in currency chits. It made it easier for me to still seem legitimate and harder for the Imperium to find too much fault with me. They cited me for how I acquired the waters I sold; for not having proper ways to store and serve the different kinds of fresh foods; for the friendly gambling that my customers did when they played their simple games; for undeclared income from the bartering I did. The list went on.
    Myfanwy was relentless at digging in every dark corner that I had. As she entered notes into her datapad, Tournour sat stone-faced. I was exhausted and wanted to make it stop. I wanted to be in the arboretum with Tournour, with our feet in the dirt. I wanted to be questioned about simple things, things that would make us both smile. Or bring us closer together.
    To make things worse, Tournour would occasionally interrupt Myfanwy and make a point that dug my hole even deeper.
    â€œWe are satisfied,” said Myfanwy.
    â€œWhen is my trial?” I asked.
    â€œThe trial for execution will be set for tomorrow.”
    Now I understood why I couldn’t catch a break with Myfanwy. In her eyes I was already dead. Tournour wouldn’t try to help me because the best thing I could do for him now was to have all of my errant ways be revealed so that they would not have any reason to turn on him, too. I was securing his position as essential to the station.
    But what about me? I thought. I want to live, too.
    Tournour threw me into the brig himself. He had done this to me before to keep me safe. But it didn’t feel that way this time. My absolute fear was rising fast.
    He was the last one to leave the room and he turned to face me as the cell door slid shut. And only I saw his lips move.
    â€œTrust me,” he mouthed.
    I lay down on the hard bench with my face to the wall. I didn’t want to be seen as I wept.

 
    11
    It was hours later when I thought that all hope was lost that Reza burst into the room where I was being held.
    At first I didn’t recognize him. It seemed out of place to see him back on the station, in the brig, holding a knife in one hand. He punched the guard at the console and then wrapped the guard’s arms, legs, and mouth in some of the rags that he wore.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked. I sounded angry, but inside I was feeling light. Hopeful.
    â€œGetting you out.”
    â€œI thought you were on Quint.” I said.
    â€œI’m back.”
    Reza looked at me and smiled, then put his finger up to tell me to wait a minute.
    He hovered over the console, pecking at the terminal buttons, taking an awfully long time at whatever he was doing. I wanted to get out of my cell before someone came in.
    â€œHurry!” I said. I worried that we’d both get killed.
    He shook his hand at me to keep quiet.
    â€œThis is suicide,” I said.
    â€œI’m trying to remember the code,” he said.