Free Athel by E. E. Giorgi Page A

that
the blood belonged to Metal Jaw or his brother. But as we left the solar
fields, I spotted the two jerks sneaking out to the forest again, both of them
in one piece, not even a scratch or a bruise on their ugly faces.  
    Once we
entered our network, Lukas scanned our internal feed for news of any Mayake
missing or injured and found nothing. Nothing looked amiss here at the Tower
when we returned. No frantic mother screaming, no child looking for her parent.
A stillbirth was the only sad news in our bulletin today.
    The boys
celebrated. No longer bothered by the pool of blood, they all scuttled to Lukas’s
place to work on the droid’s leg.
    I refused
to join them. Come nightfall, one family will realize that one of their loved
ones hasn’t returned home. We collected all the pieces of wire, but I’m pretty
sure that if the adults open an investigation, they’ll find out what we did.
And this time Niwang—deactivation for good—will be unavoidable.
    I wonder
about that. My deactivation button has been reset. It no longer works thanks to
a special chip my father implanted in my head when I was six. How would they
put me out, then? Shoot me in the face?
    I squeeze
the cylinder and examine it one more time. Lukas claims I did remember its
location and that’s how I found it. He also believes that somewhere in my head
is another memory, the one that will reveal how to open it. That’s why he
agreed that I should keep it for now. I’ve racked my brains all day but come
back blank.
    I inhale
and squint at the white sky, swirls of blanched clouds careening over the
mountains. Something catches my eye. The forest sprawls immense before me, and
toward the left a plume of gray smoke rises vertically from the treetops.
    The brothers are back at it , my first
thought. Yuri and Cal must have caused some big damage with their laser beam
weapon to raise a column of smoke like that.
    I stand
up, my gaze straying across the vastness of the horizon. The breeze blows in my
face, calling me. I have to jump and
check out what happened. I secure the cylinder in one of my pockets, zip it,
and then whistle for Kael. The falcon appears moments later, his wings
elegantly flapping in the air. I follow his movements with my eyes, sensing the
currents through his trajectory. Then I take a few steps back, run, and jump.
    I’ve been
gliding since I was six. My dad taught me. My sail, tucked away between my
shoulder blades, has become my second skin. Flying to me is like running for
Wes or crunching numbers for Lukas. Yet every time I jump, a shock of
adrenaline travels down my spine. I feel the pull of gravity and my heart beats
faster. I spread my arms and fall, wind whipping against my face until I ball
my fists and press the heels of my hands, making the glider frame pop out. The
sail swells and the thermals lift me.
    Free .
    In that
instant when my fall stops and the winds carry me I finally feel free. No
constraints, no boundaries, no limits. Just me, my sail, and the whole world
spreading before me.
    It’s never
as easy as that first moment, though, especially when I jump from the Tower,
where the winds could change quickly and slam me back against the walls. I have
to be quick, ride the thermal and not let it go until I rise over the building,
and the roof is only a tiny square in the distance. At about five hundred feet,
Kael swoops in front of me and the two of us glide in unison over the forest, the
treetops careening past beneath us.
    The plume
of smoke is thinner now. Just a few of the gray swirls are left, barely
reaching above the trees. I tip my sail, lose altitude, and circle above the
spot. The vegetation is too thick for me to discern anything at ground level. I
drop in altitude, and by the time I reach one hundred feet, I realize I can no
longer rise. I’ve lost the thermals.
    Stupid!
    Dad always
warned me about gliding over the forest.
    You lose too much altitude and you’ll be
forced to land, he’d say .
    Except