Embassy

By S. Alex Martin

Text copyright © 2013 by S. Alex Martin

Cover Design © 2011 Daniel, Tha-Fire-Dude, via DeviantArt

Published in the United States of America

Copyright © 2013 by S. Alex Martin

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Martin, Scott Alexander.

Embassy / S. Alex Martin

p. cm. – (Recovery ; bk. 1)

SUMMARY: Arman Lance joins his planet’s Embassy Program and travels across the galaxy in search of the girl he fell in love with four years earlier.

ISBN-13: 978-1-4942-6436-9 (trade pbk.)

ISBN-10: 1-494-26436-6 (trade pbk.)

[1. Science-fiction. 2. Undil. 3. Recruits.] 1. Title

[fic]

October 2014

Independent Edition

To anyone who needs

a second chance

April 15

Undilaen Time

Standard Year 4319

A small metal box is propped up on the front of the podium, the podium everyone is looking at, except me. I can’t bear to. Instead, my eyes are fixed on the projection beside it: Father’s picture. He’s younger in this picture than he actually was, but only by a few years. His neat black hair is combed up, swished to one side, and a proud grin tugs at his mouth. His jaw is taut. He looks eager to embark on another journey. Even his eyes shine, dark brown and still so full of youth. Those eyes watch us, my mother, my toddler twin sisters…

And me. The last person to see him alive.

There’s a row of seats behind the podium, and beyond those, the desert. Funerals are normally held inside the city’s council chambers, but too many people showed up. Thousands. Arrangements had to be made out in the sweltering heat and constant, dusty wind. My eyes already itch and the funeral hasn’t even officially begun.

A man stands from one of the chairs and walks to the podium: General Orcher, Father’s supervisor and the owner of the Undil Embassy’s greatest space fleet. His dark gray uniform hangs stiffly on his shoulders. Gold buttons run up the middle of his uniform and on the cuffs of his sleeves, glinting in the sunlight.

“Ambassador Lance was renowned for his dedication to the Embassy Program,” Orcher says, trying to keep his eyes trained on the crowd. I can’t tell if he’s blinking a lot because of the wind, or if he’s holding back tears. “He made sacrifices few men would make. Though we remain as the Program’s youngest Embassy, it is because of him that we have flourished so greatly these last three decades.”

Orcher pauses. His eyes focus on me. My face goes rigid, and I drop my gaze. We’ve never formally met, though whenever Father was home—which wasn’t often—he’d tell me about Orcher. His resilience to the standard structure of station crews and expeditions…how he crossed a new frontier in the Embassy Program’s core mission of interplanetary codependence.

That’s what I loved most about Father: he rarely spent time in Cornell, the rather unimpressive city I call home, but whenever he did, he’d tell me stories…his adventures around the galaxy. And on every expedition, he’d create a portfolio of whatever planet he had visited. I spent countless hours poring over pictures of gray mountains and colorful forests and rivers and trees…beautiful windswept fields, blue oceans, and puffy white clouds.

Undil has none of that beauty. There are no trees, or mountains, or clouds. There is an ocean, but it’s on the other side of the planet. I’ve never felt the rush of a river or watched over the world from the top of a mountain. Undil is a desert, and I’ve been stuck in Cornell my entire life, looking through the hazy air at the distant mesas, wishing I could escape. Sometimes a hovercraft will fly in from the Embassy, or Gray Wall Industries, where I work in archiving, will receive a large order for station thrusters. Otherwise the most fun I have around here is playing Hologis in Cornell’s small arena, but my friends stopped inviting me to tournaments.

A gust of hot wind blows through, and I squeeze my eyes shut. When it settles, I hear the end of Orcher’s speech.

“I’m proud to say that I might have the chance to welcome Ambassador Lance’s son, Arman,”—he looks at me again—“into the Embassy this summer. His legacy will live on.”

Orcher steps back from the podium and holds his hands at his sides. He stands in place for a few reverent seconds before bowing and returning to his seat next to Lieutenant Victoria Hofhen, a young woman who works in his crew. The seat on his other side is empty.

Another man stands and approaches the podium. It’s Jarvis Gantz, a middle-aged Narvidian ambassador. He was touring Gray Wall on the day Father died. They were friends, but I’d never heard about Ambassador Gantz until he showed up in Secondary Embassy Studies with Officer Banner to announce a special visitor: Father.

That was a little more than a week ago. I didn’t know Father was back in Cornell, so his return came as a surprise. He had been gone for two years, assisting in an emergency on Belvun, one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy. Belvun’s desert is destroying it, slowly eating away at the planet. The embassies of Undil, Narviid, and Daliona are all aiding Belvun, trying to reverse the collapsing ecosystems. When I join the Embassy Program—that is, if I’m selected as a Recruit—I’m going to board the first expedition to Belvun, but not because I want to save the planet.

Because of a girl named Ladia Purnell.

“We Narvidians have a saying,” Ambassador Gantz begins. He has a harsh accent, one native to his home planet. “‘Darall ravams.’ In Standard it means, ‘We are revealed at death.’ I witnessed the truth of these words when Conner visited his son last week, for I saw a tremendous love etched on both their faces. I stood by, admiring their reunion, yet never realizing how soon tragedy would fall upon them.”

Just like Orcher did, Ambassador Gantz fixes his eyes on me. Last week, he was driving back to Cornell’s docking terminals, and I was driving Father home. As we went our separate ways, he waved goodbye to me. I waved back, and then a car slammed into mine.

Father died on impact.

“My deepest and most sincere regrets go out to both families,” Ambassador Gantz continues. “First, of course, to the Lance’s. Conner influenced many of my own colleagues, and his expert treatises brought Narviid and Undil closer than ever before.

“Second, I extend my condolences to the Kirklan family.”

To my left, a woman breaks into a fit of tears. It’s Mrs. Kirklan, one of the nurses in Cornell’s tiny hospital. Mr. Kirklan was driving the car that hit mine. Their son, Colin, is six years old and has been hospitalized for most of his life due to an extreme mental defect.

“The loss of any father and husband unnerves even the toughest hearts. I have a nine year old son, Grayson, and can only imagine how devastated he would be if something happened to me. Therefore, I’d like to offer compensation, and aid, to the Kirklans, in the hopes that young Colin’s illness will soon secede.”

Mrs. Kirklan chokes out a timid ‘thank you.’ Some people clap while Ambassador Gantz returns to his seat. Then the air goes quiet. Sweat forms on the backs of my hands and neck, but I resist the urge to move. Even though the surgeons mended my ribs, they still ache whenever I twist my back.

A third man stands, but he doesn’t walk to the podium.

“Does either family wish to comment?”

Mother finally breaks down and begins to sob. My twin sisters, Erinn and Flavia, are three years old, and look terrified. I can feel the tears welling-up in my eyes, too. I shake my head to let the man know there’s nothing I want to say.

Except that I’m sorry.

Finally, I look at that little box propped up on the front of the podium. The Undil Embassy crest is engraved in the silver metal. Inside that box is my father, once the greatest man in the galaxy—reduced to ash.

I can hear his last words, the words he spoke before I waved to Ambassador Gantz. ‘She’s all grown up now.’ He had chuckled. ‘Told me she remembers you.’

Ladia Purnell, the girl from Belvun. She visited Undil one summer, four years ago. We fell in love, and then she left. Despite the consequences, I never forgot her, not even when my friends told me I was being stupid and I’d never see her again. They made me angry, but I didn’t need them. I still don’t. Father had promised he’d take me to see her when we visited Belvun this summer.

Now she’s all I have left. I need to pass the Embassy Placement Report. I’ll become a Recruit, get my permanent assignment, and then I’m free. I’ll board that expedition. I’ll see Ladia. We’ll fall in love.

And I’ll be happy.

EMBASSY

Part 1

The Recruits

Chapter One

June 6

Undilaen Time

Standard Year 4319

When I enter the examination room, it’s empty. I have knack for being early to these kinds of things. It’s not like I have anything better to do.

I sit in the last seat of the first row and stare at the desk panel. The Undil Embassy crest floats above the screen, cast by a small projector sticking up from the corner. I poke my finger through it, but the crest doesn’t move. You need tendril gloves if you want to interact with holograms, and there’s not a single pair in sight.

Every desk is the same: thin glass panels with the Embassy crest floating above them. At the head of the room is a larger panel: the proctor desk. Its projector displays the time, and currently shows 7:43 a.m.

At 7:49, the next person walks in and sits at the front of the room. I don’t think he even saw me. He’s older, maybe in his thirties. A Latecomer, someone who wants to join the Embassy years after graduating from Secondary.

More people arrive as the minutes drag on. Surprisingly, most of them are Latecomers. One of them sits down and waves his hand through the desk hologram and looks severely disappointed when it doesn’t spin. He looks at the girl he walked in with and frowns. Then he sees me watching and waves.

I drop my eyes and don’t look at him again. Who is he? I’ve never seen that guy in my life.

The last person walks in exactly at eight o’clock, and it’s none other than Glacia Haverns, or rather, the Glacia Haverns. Her parents own a private textile and tailoring shop, and as far as I know, they don’t have any direct connections to the Embassy.

Glacia is notorious for being Cornell’s adrenaline junkie. In Secondary, she aced every flying simulation the Officials gave her, most of which exceeded the abilities of every other student. But she’s most famous for her Hologis skills. The girl holds every single arena record. She’s ambidextrous, and will literally jump off the wall to pelt you in the face with a Hologis sphere. I know that from experience.

Multiple experiences.

8:01. The proctor is late. The Placement Report was supposed to start at eight o’clock. The guy who waved to me is thinking the same thing. His legs are shaking, and he keeps folding and unfolding his arms. At one point, he leans through his hologram to try and see out the door.

People start mumbling and whispering ‘where are they?’ to each other. Aside from Glacia, I don’t recognize anyone, so nobody whispers to me. Good, because I don’t feel like talking to them. I just want to get this over with and find out my score. I need to join the Embassy. I don’t have any other choice. Mother and the twins are counting on me to provide support.

And Ladia is waiting for me on Belvun.

Five minutes late…ten minutes late. The twitchy guy stands up and jumps to the door. He looks both ways and suddenly sprints back to his desk, nearly colliding with the black-haired guy in the first row.

A woman rushes through the door: Lieutenant Victoria Hofhen, one of Father’s colleagues who works with General Orcher. Her long braid swings over her shoulder as she drops into the seat behind the proctor’s desk and taps the panel to activate the Placement Report.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, clearly out of breath from running. “I was just down the street. Stopped at the…um…”

Abandoning her explanation, Victoria swipes her ID across the panel. The Embassy crest vanishes from above my desk and a new display appears, asking me to log my personal information. A confused murmur moves around the room.

“Gloves!” Victoria realizes, straightening up quickly before bending down and checking through the desk’s drawers. “They’re somewhere around here. Gloves…gloves…aha!”

She scrambles around the room, haphazardly handing pairs of tendril gloves to people. I strap on mine and enter the information. When I finish, the display disappears and the projector deactivates. The rest of the exam will be taken on the glass panel so that nobody’s answers are left floating in the air for everyone to see.

“Right. The Embassy wants five Recruits from the cities this year,” Victoria says, her hand hovering near a holographic icon that reads ‘Begin,’ except backwards. “You have ninety questions, two essays, and three hours. Unanswered questions are marked wrong. Your essays will be judged by Embassy Officials.”

My chance to see Ladia rides on this exam. The last four years of my life have come down to the next three hours. I breathe out to calm my nerves. It shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ve worked too hard and lost too much sleep to fail now. Ladia is counting on me. It’s the only way we can be together again.

“Start now.”

Victoria taps the icon, and my panel lights up with a list of questions. I touch my finger to one and stare at it.

Where did the Embassy Program originate, and in which Standard year?

Too easy. I type Earth and Standard 3092.

My eyes flick down the page: In the absence of a city’s ambassador, who is designated to oversee all duties held in his domestic office?

I write City Exchange Secretary.

On to the next.

A buzzer sounds off at the end of the three hours and Victoria touches her screen to lock all the submissions. I finished my essays twenty minutes ago and have been sitting here, counting the seconds.

“The Recruits will be announced publicly, and I will personally notify you of your scores.” Victoria sits back in her seat and motions at the door. “Have a nice day, people.”

Everyone stands and files into the hall. As soon as they clear the room, people start muttering about how disorganized and unreliable Victoria was, and that it’s a mystery how she got chosen to proctor such an important exam.

As the crowd disperses, I find myself a few steps behind Glacia. Her dark-blonde hair swishes down her back. She has a sort of swagger to her step, thumbs jammed in her pockets. It’s annoying. She’s always been like this, ever since the first time I met her at that stupid food dis—

“Hey.”

I realize Glacia’s holding the outer door open for me. I grab it and look past her, searching the parking lot for my car.

“How’d you do?” she asks.

I shrug.

“You probably did fine,” she goes on, walking right beside me now. “That one guy in front of me kept shaking his leg. It was so distracting.”

I force myself to laugh.

Glacia sees her brother, Jaston, who’s standing near his car with his fiancé. She veers toward them, then spins around and shakes her fingers at me.

“Wanna get ice cream? Celebrate finishing, you know? A solid four years we’ll never get back.”

“Can’t.”

I spot my car and start toward it. Glacia stays where she is, looking expectantly at me.

“Come on,” she insists. “I’ll even pay.”

“Don’t have time, sorry.”

That’s a lie. I have more than enough time, and I’ll probably spend it doing nothing.

As usual.

My neighborhood is quiet except for the rush of hot wind and the distant noises of maglev cars gliding along the Main Throughway toward Cornell.

Inside my house, Flavia and Erinn are running around, giggling their heads off, and Mother is sitting on the floor. The twins squeal in delight when they see me and run faster, feet stamping on the padded floor.

“How was it?” Mother asks.

I nod enthusiastically and crouch beside her.

“It was good.”

She smiles, but her lips haven’t curled the same way in the two months since Father died.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

I stay with my sisters while Mother is in the kitchen. I pay attention to their game: they aren’t just running in circles, they’re playing tag. Whenever one touches the other, they reverse direction and resume the chase.

Mother comes back into the front room. The twins pile into her lap, licking their lips and begging for a bite of the sandwich she brought me.

“Do you have plans tonight?” Mother asks.

“I was going to stay here.”

Like always.

My eyes drift over to the door and stay fixed on it. I have two distinct memories of that door. The first was four years ago, the summer Ladia Purnell entered my life. The second memory is the morning Father walked out because of the emergency on Belvun, only days after he met Erinn and Flavia for the first time.

A hovercraft roars above the house, engines flaring in the dry air. Lieutenant Hofhen must be leaving Cornell. I’d love to fly in one of those. Leaves you breathless, seeing it all from up there, Father once said. Humbles you, even.

I still don’t believe that. My life gets worse no matter how hard I fight. Just when I think I’m back in control, it crashes down. How can I appreciate not dying with Father? Where has it left me? There are no more stories to hear, no more adventures to imagine. If I’m accepted into the Embassy, I’ll have to make my journey alone.

Chapter Two

It’s been four days since I took the Placement Report. The results will be announced at eight o’clock, only minutes away. If my holotab doesn’t light up, I don’t know what I’ll do with my life. I have no other plans.

I need to escape.

Mother cuts apart the last of her Killari beef sausages and swallows them one by one. I’ve not sure if she knows what goes on in my head. She never shows any sign that she recognizes how desperate I am to leave. Maybe I’m just good at covering it up. But it pains me to think about leaving them behind, her and the twins, because it’s not them I’m trying to escape.

I hope she doesn’t think that.

7:58…7:59.

I stare at the time projected over the table and count each second in my head. 20, 21, 22. The clinking of Mother’s fork and knife stops. She’s finished eating, and is watching the time, too. Is she hoping for my recruitment? Or does she secretly want me to stay so she doesn’t have to lose me?

54, 55, 56. My eyes are dry, so I blink. In that split second, the time changes to eight o’clock. I was counting too slow.

And then my holotab lights up.

The mini projectors hidden along the edges of the device produce a display above the screen: Lieutenant Victoria Hofhen, Embassy Official.

“Answer,” I say in a low, choked voice. Mother is looking the other way. “Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Lance,” says the voice of Lieutenant Hofhen, who seems much calmer than she did at the exam. “You’ll be pleased to know you passed the Embassy Placement Report, and were one of two people who received a perfect score. The Chancellor’s council has selected you to be one of Cornell’s Recruits. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Lance. Please meet me at Cornell’s docking terminals by eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“I will.”

“Have a good day, Mr. Lance.”

The line disconnects. Mother still isn’t looking at me. I’m leaving. I am actually leaving. Tomorrow morning I’m boarding a hovercraft to the Embassy and from there I can board an expedition to Belvun and be rid of this planet once and for all.

“I’m proud of you, Arman.”

Mother is looking at me, her eyes red and cheeks going flush.

“You’ve worked so hard for this,” she says, nodding quickly to hold back tears. “H—he’d be so proud.”

Mother stares at me for several silent seconds. I don’t know what to say, because ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ don’t seem like they’d be enough. I feel like I’m back in the hospital, after the crash, when I could only stare back at her, unable to move or speak because of the drugs that numbed my body to keep the pain at bay. Mother had squeezed my hand and run her fingers through my hair, afraid to look away from me and follow the doctors to where they were keeping Father’s body. I had wanted to say how sorry I was, and that I was alive, and that Father asked about her and the twins. I wanted to say so much, but was unable.

Now I don’t know what to say.

Mother’s eyes flick to my holotab. “Have the others been announced?”

I drag the device toward me and activate it. Using a stylus, I scroll to the Embassy’s news feed and find the Recruit selection. Cornell is the fifth city listed.

“Glacia Haverns”—she passed?—“Ellin Mistin, John Mistin”—interesting, brother and sister—“and Michael Rafting.”

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