Page 14 of Last Chance to Save the World

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Rian and I both ping the geo-trackers on our cuffs, and the timers stop with twenty whole minutes to spare. I shoot Rian a look:See? The regulations aren’t fair.

He gives me a grudging nod, but I can also tell that he still expects to not be spending the night here. Time to rearrange that assessment in his neatly organized mind.

The outside of the tower is plain, pale brown limestone, few windows, only one door. Mom calls over to us, waving.

“Sorry about her,” I mutter as we head up the steps.

Sure enough, as soon as I introduce Mom to Rian, she bustles us inside and stuffs a pastizz in his mouth before declaring that there’s no way she’ll allow him to waste money on a hotel tonight, and he can sleep in my old bedroom while I share with her. When he protests, she gives him another pastry and literally pats him on the head.

“I’m just so pleased to meet you!” Mom declares as Rian chokes on crumbs. “So, tell me all about yourself.”

“I...work in conservation,” he says awkwardly.

Great, so they’re both starting off with lies.

“Conservation?” Mom asks. “I started my career there.”

“I heard. Yellowstone.”

Mom beams. “You’ve told him everything about me, haven’t you?”

“Not quite,” I say.

The main floor of the tower is on the second level, where the only door deposited us. The thick walls are plastered white, no personal decorations. Mounted along one wall are a few display cases holding artifacts—clay pots from Punic shipwreck remains found nearby, a World War II uniform, and some cannonballs. Carbonglass protects some plaster that was salvaged from the frescoes in the original tower, ancient graffiti made by bored soldiers stationed at the tower in the sixteen and/or eighteen hundreds. Or maybe later? I should know that, but history, eh.

During tours, Mom uses a holo projector to display information about the tower’s cultural importance to the island. The few narrow windows cast natural light over the table Mom’s set up in the middle of the room. This part of the tower is for display, kept simple and plain. Steps hidden behind doors go down to where Mom really lives on the first floor, and also up to the flat roof.

Mom chats ceaselessly, prattling off a mix of outrageous stories she thinks are entertaining and peppering in probing questions that catch Rian off guard.

“Sorry,” I say, passing him a coffee. “I know she’s...a lot.”

“Who is?” Mom asks. “Me? I’m not a lot.”

“I can see where you get it from,” Rian tells me.

My eyes grow big. “You thinkI’ma lot?”

Mom barks in laughter.

“I’m an absolute fucking delight; that’s what I am,” I say.

“Well.” Rian starts to stand from the table. “Thank you for the pastries.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to leave.” Mom levels Rian with a Look. I know she’s gearing up to say she’s already got a full meal prepared for us and it would break her heart to be stuck with so much leftover food, but I push back my chair, the metal grating on the stone floor.

“Mind if Rian and I talk on the roof alone for a moment?” I ask Mom. She waves toward the door, a little frown marring her face, and I lead Rian up.

Xlendi Tower isn’t tall—it didn’t need to be. It’s already on a cliff, and the soldiers at the watchtower only needed the signal fires to be seen by the next tower down the coast. One level up, and Rian and I step out onto the flat stone roof. A small ledge lower than knee height is all that warns us not to fall off, and we have to step carefully around the solar panels positioned for the best angle to collect the sun’s rays. Along the north wall, a dovecote stands, the soft cooing of pigeons and the steady sound of the sea the only noise. This is perhaps the only place on the whole island that stinks more of bird shit than pollution.

I don’t bother mincing words. “Coming here wasn’t the original plan, but I think we should stay.”

“We could get a hotel a block away from Fetor’s offices,” Rian starts to protest. No doubt this is the same hotel he stayed at every time he inspected the project as it was developed.

My lips pinch tight. I don’t necessarily want to pick a fight, but I also don’t not want that. “OnGlory,in the portal system, there was no way send messages off the ship. On the Moon station, well...I have to trust you didn’t betray me when you got your blue puff cubes. I should have come with you when you went for ‘snacks.’”

“Why would I—”

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