1.3.1

Churning Choice

Captain London acquiesced, but the vacuum left behind sucked the air from the room in his stead. For a moment, Astrid nearly spun on her feet, unsure where to begin. Everything she anticipated about the rest of her life upended, and too quickly to apportion a firm grasp.

“This is crazy…”

“I would cast them from here myself if I could,” Alethea sighed. “I thought about it. But they would just go to another Sanctuary. And despite his grand words, Captain London is shrewd in one thing: whoever takes this position will impact many beyond their station. I do not like it, but with someone from Endra I can at least know that person to be of strong moral fiber.”

Astrid gawked at the Keeper’s words. “You think I should do this!”

It sounded an accusation, Astrid knew. But she found herself shocked after all the woman’s obvious reservations.

Alethea cast her eyes to the side as she wrung her hands.

“Keeper?”

“I do not relish the idea of any of you out there. You were all raised in the safety of these halls, and I am afraid nothing in your education prepared you for a life among people. You will be exposed not just to battle, but to distrust and resentment. Humans retain a talent for deception. And they will be more proficient at it than you. It would take mere days for you to run into a scenario for which you could have never prepared, and I will be unable help you.

“But… if it must be someone, it should be someone self-disciplined. Someone resistant to manipulation. Someone adept at establishing trust. Perhaps even someone who spent much of her youth broadening her knowledge and perceptions with study rather than indulging in gossip, daydreams, or superficial pleasures.”

Astrid couldn’t believe her ears. She stood, dumbstruck, as the Keeper continued.

“Novels and textbooks do not replace experience, but you would have a greater chance for success than many of your peers. There are those here who would take advantage of this chance and ruin all others for generations to come. And Captain London is right. Someday, there will be a conversation about the shape your kind will take in the developing world.”

Alethea commanded an aura of wisdom, but she could not hide her somber melancholy from a Channeler.

“There are moments, Astrid. Small moments we never see coming that change the outcome of everything. Sometimes, the world turns on the single choice of someone no one predicted.”

“I’m not ready.” Astrid spun in place. “This is happening too fast! I thought this time next year I would be training younglings or staffing the nursery! Just twenty minutes ago I argued everything would return to normal like nothing ever happened, and now I’m being asked to leave everything and everyone I know? How am I supposed to make this decision?”

Alethea soberly wandered to a window at the side of her office. She motioned that Astrid should follow, and when she did, Astrid regarded a vista of flatlands, all the way to the horizon. Just ground and sky. The one window in the facility that faced outward, rather than in.

It wasn’t Astrid’s first time in Alethea’s office, and yet she hadn’t cared for this detail. The fact that this one piece of glass provided a view into the outside meant nothing before.

The unattainable, unknowable, outside.

“When I was offered the position of Keeper, I could not know what it would look like,” Alethea shared. “I have been at this post for almost thirty-five years and I do not even know if Keepers elsewhere conduct themselves similarly.

“I do not know what it is to be as you are. But I do know what it’s like to sacrifice a known and assured life. Sometimes, it is easier to sense what is wrong for yourself than what is right.”

Alethea’s grey eyes seemed watered with age. The Channeler found herself mute as she took in the rare vulnerability shown her.

“All I can do to help you find your way is to put to you one question: Which potential future would you most regret? One day grieving how comfortable and safe your life might have been if you stayed? Or forever wondering what you might’ve experienced, how you might have changed, had you left?

“Which will be harder to live with?”

Astrid’s marine-colored eyes filled with night stars as she looked to the heavens for guidance. She memorized every constellation visible from Endra. Even a few only viewable from Earth, or other colonies—places she’d known she’d never see. An entire galaxy floated high above and out of reach, for so long as she’d been content to let it remain there.

Regardless, she would now forever be marked by this sole decision, even if she refused. She folded her arms under chest as the vast expanse of space suddenly shrank her to diminutive size.

“How could I leave everyone behind? People like Maya, who need me?”

“By knowing that only by going can you give them a future with more options than you had.”

For peace of mind, Astrid wanted to debate and reason the consequences. It seemed cruel to expect such a momentous decision from with so little time for consideration.

But in her heart, she knew it to be no choice at all.

She might regret either path. But only one would she regret for sure.

“Can I say goodbye to the others?”

“I’m afraid there’s already been too much disruption here. A public farewell might cause more of an uproar than the Guardians are prepared to handle. We’ll already be spending the next several weeks easing the upheaval.”

Astrid swallowed an itch at the back of her throat. The thought of not being able to explain herself to the others, to pledge that everything would be okay, made her ache.

What would Terrel think, she wondered? Maya, Finn? Who would be there for Opal?

That last thought alone nearly made Astrid rescind her decision.

“May I write?”

“If you understand I may delay delivery until an appropriate passage of time, yes.”

Astrid clasped her own arms for composure.

“I’m scared,” she admitted.

Alethea drew close, and fingers curved over Astrid’s shoulder in a kind embrace.

“There is no courage without fear, and courageous you are. You have been one of my easiest charges and most brilliant students, Astrid. I looked forward to having you on staff when you graduated.

“I cannot fault Captain London his choice. I would have selected you, too.”

Then, Keeper Alethea, with a decisive nod, crossed to the hall door to announce their declaration. “She’s ready.”

When the captain returned, his entourage followed.

“You’ve agreed then?”

Astrid turned to the sight of three Static soldiers. To Captain London, and the two men at his side: one of warm-shaded skin and compact stature, the other mature with mottled taupe hair combed back. Both appeared weathered, but steadfast and confident.

Astrid asked herself how she dared picture herself at their side, equally imposing. But still, she nodded.

“Then welcome aboard, Miss Hale.”

The captain proffered his hand in a sign of finality. With resolution, she accepted.

When he withdrew, Captain London nodded to the men at either side. “This is Intel Agent Adan Romo, and Staff Commander Karth Kendall. He’ll be in charge when I’m not around.”

“’Romo’, is fine.” The shorter of the two, with dark shorn hair nodded brusquely.

Next to him, the commander gave a mild nod of his head. The faintest streaks of silver flashed in the hair combed from his temples. “Miss Hale.”

“The rest of the team awaits on my ship,” Captain London concluded. “There are also a few women, so you won’t be alone. We’ll need to begin introducing you to our protocols as soon as possible. For mission security, of course.”

“Should she bring anything?” Alethea asked.

“That won’t be necessary. We have all the gear she’ll need, plus some civilian attire. We might have occasion to use it, should discretion call for it.”

“I don’t have much. Everything I have is borrowed from the Sanctuary. I just need…”

Astrid’s fingers absently touched at the crystal pendant tucked against her chest. Suddenly, it felt alien. The one thing that tied her to every other of her kind would be the only one of its type among her new acquaintances. In the Sanctuary, Statics were the odd ones. Now, she realized, she would be the outsider.

“Books.” Keeper Alethea clasped Astrid’s anxious hands in her own long fingers. “I insist you take a couple of your favorites. We can spare them. And you should have something of home.”

The men looked on, oblivious to how much it meant to Astrid. She avoided the warble in her throat by instead nodding.

“We should get going then. Gather what you wish. We’ll wait outside for you to say goodbye.”

Alone once more, Astrid hugged her Keeper in a fit of sentiment.

Alethea patted the Channeler soothingly. “Letting you go goes against everything I’ve become as a Keeper. I’m supposed to keep you safe. Protected. Now you must keep yourself.”

It took all the practiced repression of Astrid’s years to contain the welling sensation that pooled behind her eyes. If only she felt permitted to cry.

When they parted, Alethea caught both of Astrid’s shoulders in her hands and gripped her tight.

“It is imperative you find those you can trust in his group and stick close to them. Not everyone will be your friend. And some will look to prey on your ignorance of the world. Please be careful.”

“I will, Keeper. Please tell the others I will think of them.”

Alethea bowed her head and turned her face. Astrid recognized the signs of concealed sorrow very well.