Oh, yes, there’s more, a lot more. I explain that Jan attacked our teacher, Nevada, and that he murdered Dr. Varik. I tell him we’re going to set up a memorial for the good doctor and that George and his people are invited. Then I ask him about the nature of Alex Dean’s prize. “The fact that it’s military,” I say, “is disturbing, given that Axiom was a student contest.”
“Yes.” George sighs deeply as he tugs on one of his shell buttons. “I regret making that, um, decision.” In his weighted pause, it’s obvious that he was bought off, not only by NanoPearl but also by the well-heeled faculty at Baronland South. I feel sorry for him. He desperately needs a stronger rudder. He’s so much weaker than I ever suspected Nevada of being. In contrast, Nevada is a mighty goddess who could hold up The Greening in her own bare hands. “Under the circumstances I’d like to suggest that you rethink the contest prize.”
Armonk, Blane and Thorn gasp collectively at my pluck. I’m shocked at it myself.
I’ve inspired a flow though, because Armonk says, “What’s all this war talk anyway? What is pre-war exactly, and the ramp-up?”
A look of astonished mortification comes over George as he jiggles his holo pen. “We’ve had skirmishes,” he confides. “In the northwest sectors with Land Dominion. Some in our sector feel that we need to arm ourselves. Get ready for the moment our bounty’s bigger than that in the north, because heaven knows, we were very unprepared before the Border Wars, unprepared for the wall they built, barring us from northern dominions.” George looks weary, even his suit looks droopy and sad. I’ll be an adult in a year, but I feel sorry for some of them, the ones who aren’t totally grownup after all, yet playing dangerous war games.
Armonk pipes up. “I like your ideas better.”
“Which ones?” George puts down his holo pen and leans forward.
“When you were so excited about all of the good things you were going to build in your city, all of the ways you would improve life down here.” Armonk stops. “If the contest funds were reallocated, some of them could be distributed to Nevada to fix up The Greening, and some sent to my home sector, Black Hills. There’s no water there. People are suffering. You said your family drilled for wells. You’d be such a hero to so many.”
“Young man, you make good sense,” George scribbles down more notes on his holo pad.
“Oh, one last thing,” I tell him. “I’d love to send word to my family back at the … the Fireseed compound in Chihuahua, that I’m okay. Will you please have a letter carried there for my mother?”
“The Fireseed compound, eh?” His disc-like eyes widen. I guess everyone knows about that cult. “Of course, glad to do it.” George says, and squeezes my hands. He seems relieved that this last request is simple, and doable.
By the time we leave his office, we’re bubbling with new ideas and hope. And George seems almost excited to have an expanded philanthropic role. He even assigns a trio of his armed guards to accompany us back.
We take one more hour at the Vegas beach to bask in the sun as the guards pace back and forth on the sand. Thorn splashes in the surf, Armonk does yoga and Blane’s eyes shimmer ever more emerald as I apply one more dose of healing gel to his injured thigh. After our ordeal we deserve a few extra moments to soak in solar minerals. I grin as I imagine the looks on Vesper and Jan’s faces when we return with an armed escort. But my glee fades to sadness when we discuss plans for Dr. Varik’s memorial.
Chapter 32
We hold Dr. Varik’s memorial at our school, in the fields that we deck out in strands of Fireseed blossoms. The most spectacular ones, plucked from his body, we display in a vase by his casket. He’ll be cremated and join the soil to fertilize it. The field could use some help, as great swaths self-destructed during our turmoil out at NanoPearl.
Moori’s yurt family attends, as do many other dune dwellers that Dr. Varik attended to. Moori is healthy and pink-cheeked now, and her villagers are no longer suffering from uncured insect bites. The people spring to the memorial like lizards from their cave gardens. I’m amazed that Doctor Varik touched the lives of so many.
Earlier that morning, we took turns consoling Nevada, who was completely heartbroken by the doctor’s death. We cooked her a breakfast in bed and Bea and I helped braid her hair.
“What would I do without you kids?” she’d asked as she gazed at the bunch of us circling her bed.
“We’re not exactly kids,” Armonk reminded her.
“Young men and women.” She squeezed his hand.
“I think we’ve earned a few days off from lessons,” I said.
“We all have.” Nevada sighed and took a bite of yam loaf with sea-grape jam. “Delicious bread! The chef?”
Radius beamed. “That would be me.”