“No! But there’s only so much we can do!”
“So little, you mean.”
Connor lost his temper then, which he does more and more often now. “If it was up to you, we’d be blowing up harvest camps, wouldn’t we? That’s not how this battle is going to be won! It will just make them come down harder on every Unwind, every AWOL.”
Starkey wanted to take his argument all the way to the wall and nail Connor to it for letting storks go unsaved, but instead, Starkey backed down.
“I’m sorry,” he told Connor. “You know I get passionate when it comes to storks.”
“Your passion’s a good thing,” Connor told him, “when you keep it in perspective.”
He could have slammed Connor for that, but instead he just smiled, agreed, and left—secure in the knowledge that someday soon Connor would be faced with an entirely new perspective.
• • •
While Connor has a history lesson with Hayden in the Com-Bom, Starkey relaxes at the Rec Jet, teaching kids simple card tricks and dazzling them with close-up magic he could do in his sleep. It’s Stork Hour. Seven to eight p.m. Prime time. There’s a nice breeze blowing under the Rec Jet. It’s a perfect time of day. He has one of the storks bring him a drink so he doesn’t have to get out of his comfortable chair. It’s been a hard day dishing slop—and although he doesn’t actually do the dishing, supervision can be a bitch.
Drake, the farm boy who runs the Green Aisle, passes and gives them a dirty look. Starkey glares back and makes a mental note. When he takes over, the new Holy of Whollies will be made up of all storks. Drake will be demoted to picking beans, or cleaning chicken crap. Many things will change when Starkey takes over, and God help anyone who’s not in his good graces.
“You gonna get off your ass and play me a game of pool?” Bam asks, pointing her cue at him like a harpoon. “Or do my superior skills challenge your masculinity?”
“Watch it, Bam,” Starkey warns. He will not play her, because he knows she’ll win. First rule of competition—never accept a losing proposition. He loses when he plays Connor, of course, but that’s different. It’s intentional, and he makes sure the other storks know it.
Farther down the main aisle, Connor comes down the stairs of the ComBom with Hayden.
“What do you think that’s all about?” Bam asks.
Starkey keeps his opinion to himself.
“I think they’re hot for each other,” says one of the other storks.
Starkey turns to him. “You’re the only one I know who keeps checking out Connor’s butt, Paulie.”
“That ain’t true!” But by the way Paulie goes red, it’s clear that it is.
Finally Starkey stands up to get a better look at the situation. Connor and Hayden say their good-byes. Hayden heads toward the latrine, and Connor goes back to his own little jet.
“He’s been having private meetings with Trace, too,” Bam points out. “But he hasn’t been sharing any secrets with you, has he?”
Starkey hides his fury at being left out of whatever Connor is plotting. “He must be happy with food service.”
“A regular fatted cow,” Bam says with a grin. “Just about ready for slaughter.”
“I will not have you bad-mouthing our commander in chief.”
Bam turns and spits on the ground. “You’re such a freakin’ hypocrite.” Then she goes back to playing pool against kids who never beat her.
Starkey, however, has no need to bad-mouth Connor. Griping is for those without a plan of action—and tonight Starkey has something new up his sleeve. A gift for Connor. It comes in the person of Jeevan, whose skill with computers got him assigned to the ComBom, and who happens to be a loyal Stork Club member. Of course, no one but Starkey knows that fact. “Jeeves” is one of two well-positioned “sleeper agents,” whose allegiance is to him, rather than Connor. And what a gift Jeeves has provided! Starkey’s been saving it for just the right moment. He concludes that now—when Connor seems to be getting his balance back—is the perfect time to unwrap it . . . and while the gift is in his arms, pull the rug out from under him.
41 • Connor
Connor sits alone in his jet, staring into space, trying to process everything he’s just learned. We can’t stop unwinding, the Admiral once told him. The best we can hope to do is save as many of these kids as we can. But somehow, after seeing those old news reports, Connor is starting to feel that maybe the Admiral was wrong. Maybe there is a way to end unwinding. If only he can figure out how to truly learn from the past . . .
Connor is still pondering the dark specter of history late into the evening, when Starkey shows up at his jet. Connor opens the hatch for him. “What’s up? Is there a problem?”
“You’ll have to tell me if it’s a problem,” Starkey says enigmatically. “Can I come in?”
Connor lets him in, “It’s been a killer day—this had better be good.”
“There’s a TV here, right?”
Connor points to it. “Yeah, but there’s no line in, and the color sucks.”
“Don’t need a line, and color’s not gonna matter when you see what I’ve got.” Starkey pulls out a microdrive and plugs it into the TV’s data port. “You should sit down.”
Connor laughs. “Thanks, but I’ll stand.”
“You sure?”
Connor gives him a funny look, continues standing, and waits for an image to come on the screen.
He recognizes the show immediately. It’s a weekly news magazine he has seen many times before. A familiar TV journalist discusses the featured story. The logo screened in behind her says angel of division.
“A little over a year ago,” she begins, “clappers took out an unwinding facility in Happy Jack, Arizona. The social and political fallout from that event still resonates today, but one girl—an infamous player in that event—is speaking out. Her message, however, is not what you think. You may have seen her in various public service announcements blitzing the airwaves. In a short time, she’s gone from being one of the Juvenile Authority’s most wanted to becoming the poster child for the cause of unwinding. Yes, you heard me right: FOR unwinding. Her name is Risa Ward, and you’re not going to forget her anytime soon.”
Connor takes a deep, shuddering breath and realizes that Starkey was right—he needs to sit down. His legs practically fall out from under him as he sinks into the chair.
The studio shot cuts to Risa being interviewed in some plush location by the same journalist. There’s something different about her, but Connor can’t yet tell what it is.
“Risa,” begins the journalist, “you were a ward of the state slated for unwinding, became a coconspirator with the notorious Akron AWOL, and were even present at Happy Jack Harvest Camp to witness his death. After all that, how is it that you now speak in favor of unwinding?”
Risa hesitates before answering, then says, “It’s complicated.”
Starkey crosses his arms. “Yeah, I’ll bet it is.”
“Quiet!” snaps Connor.
“Could you walk us through it?” the journalist asks, with a disarming grin that Connor wants to punch right off her face with Roland’s fist.
“Let’s just say I have a different perspective now than I had before.”
“You’ve come to see unwinding as a good thing?”
“No, it’s a terrible thing,” she answers, which gives Connor hope . . . until she says, “But it’s the least of all evils. Unwinding is there for a reason, and the world would be very different without it.”
“Pardon me for pointing this out, but that’s easy for you to say, now that you’re seventeen and beyond unwinding age.”
“No comment,” says Risa, and it’s like a dagger slowly twisting in Connor’s gut.