Chapter 12
The workhouse was larger than either of them had pictured.
“What is it that you make?” Desmond asked, as they walked. Sienna had managed to get a handle on her pain, although she was still lingering quite close.
“Ship parts,” Pedro said and Sienna's eyes widened.
“Really?”
“Really,” the alien replied. “Of all types. I imagine I can help you, if you are who you say you are.”
Desmond flicked his wrist, displaying a stream of white magic.
“What can we do?” he asked, and Pedro nodded.
“I see.”
He opened the door to the large building, and the children flooded in.
“Why do you use children?” Desmond asked. “With magic? I'm not criticizing, please, I'm just curious.”
“These children are orphans,” Pedro said. “Families destroyed by war, by illness, by poverty. I cannot afford to set up a place for them without a return. We all must make a living. But none of them are forced here. We've gamified most of the process so they don't feel like they are working, and magical ability makes the work go must faster than machines, so it's two birds with one stone. They love coming here. They love working. Their quarters weren't safe during such a storm, so I put them up in the hotel, which will hurt profits, but I do take care of them.”
“And they…must stay?”
“Do you think I'm a monster?” Pedro raised an eyebrow. “They stay because they want to. But if they want to leave, I make sure they have another place to go, a plan. I'm not just going to let children wander off into the galaxy.”
“Hmm,” Desmond replied, as he looked around the workhouse. Sure enough, everything was gamified, as Pedro had said. There were giant screens, targets, points, and it seemed, even prizes. This was not at all what he thought it was. The children were excitedly tying on protective gear, large grins on their faces.
“And as for you,” Pedro said, to Sienna. “Come with me, up the stairs, if you can.”
He pointed to a large office that overlooked the workhouse floor. Sienna carefully gripped the railing, following him up the metal staircase. Pedro opened the door to the office, a casual smile on his face.
“Davine,” he said, as a light skinned, white eyed alien turned toward them, from typing on a tablet. “There's someone I'd like you to meet.”
Sienna could see the signs at once, the damage the gene tried to do. The alien had magic, certainly, but it was suppressed, and she was alive. She was a Cratian species, which meant her age was counted on her arms, in rings. Each ring represented ten years, and Sienna quickly calculated that the alien was almost a hundred.
How could that be? These gene killed. It destroyed in a matter of months sometimes.
“I'll leave you to it,” Pedro said, grabbing a binder and heading down to the floor.
Sienna paused, looking to Desmond, who understood her confusion.
“I'm sorry for bursting in,” Desmond picked up the conversation. “Pedro has brought us to you because he says that you suffer from the acridid gene, the same as Sienna. We are witches, trained and…operating.”
The alien's brow furrowed but she smiled, pointing to a few spare chairs. “Please, have a seat,” she said. “How wonderful.”
“I'm sorry for my shock.” Sienna said. “Have you survived as long as I think you have?”
“About a hundred human years?” Davine asked, with a smile. “Yes. And how old are you?”
“Not even twenty,” Sienna answered. “How? How have you done it?”
Davine leaned back in her chair.
“Oh, my dear. You've had a rough time at it, haven't you?”
“We've had extensive management plans,” Desmond said. “She is better now than she was, functional most days.”
Davine flickered her gaze to Desmond. “Are you her father?”
“Her Maestro,” he replied. “One of two. As you can imagine, this is a special case.”
“That's right, you said you were operating witches. Although the magic must make you so sick.” Davine turned back to Sienna.
“It did, when I used it.”
“And now you've stopped?”
“Suppressed it,” she said. Davine crossed two of her six arms.
“Chemically?”
“Yes,” Sienna said. “And you?”
“I stopped breathing oxygen,” Davine said, and Sienna's jaw fell open.
“I'm sorry?”
“Here,” the alien put her hand on her chest. “It was Pedro's invention, long ago. It's a converted part, actually. Are you knowledgeable in ship parts?”
“I am,” Sienna answered.
“The oxygen diverter, the calibrator,” Davine said “He re purposed one from a one-man scooter to work in the opposite fashion, replacing my lungs. Everything that comes in is converted to chemical, non-breathable components in most species. Except for us...”
“It's gold,” Sienna said, glancing at the hint of scarring peeking out from the top of her shirt.
“No oxygen, no natural process, no attacks,” Davine replied.
“How long ago did you do that?”
“About fifty years,” Davine answered. “And no problems ever since.”
Sienna turned to Desmond, who was doing calculations in his head.
“That is quite the advanced process,” he said. “I'm impressed.”
“So was I,” she replied. “But then, when Pedro wants to help, he finds away.”
“I'm humanoid,” Sienna replied. “It maybe wouldn't…”
“It maybe wouldn't work,” Davine confirmed. “You are correct. But what's the alternative for your life expectancy?”
“I—” Sienna didn't have an answer to that question, and the alien smiled.
“This is heavy conversation for the moment. Perhaps we can talk about it later?”
“Yes.” Sienna glanced to Desmond, and he wondered what was spinning her young mind. Was she already planning such an intense operation? Would it even work on her?
And would it give her the freedom she needed to move away from the witch lifestyle?
None of these questions could be answered right there, but Sienna had hoped she would find out when they walked out of the office and went to look for Pedro.
Both of them tried not to stare, but watching the children use their magic in such ways was memorizing
“They should be in school,” Desmond said. “Being trained.”
“You want to tell them,” she said. “You want to take them with you?”
“Certainly not all of them,” Desmond replied. “Especially with Eliza's quest under way. But we could find a way, if they wanted. They have to want to come, since there are no parents involved.”
“Do you remember your parents?” she asked Desmond, and he shook his head.
“No. Do you?”
“No,” she said. “I barely remembered Jeffro until we went back…But it clearly wasn't either of our choices.”
He looked to her and she didn't seem upset. She was simply observing as they walked.
She stopped when they came to one conveyor belt. The children were following a gamified version of making a mold, shrieking with excitement when they got the plastic into the perfect shape.
“Those are the coils,” Sienna said, as she stepped forward. Her eyes cast to the rest of the belt, and she saw everything that they needed. “Here, Desmond. If we can buy it off him, we can leave this afternoon.”
“Are you sure?” Desmond pulled out their tablet and checked his list. He was not quite as good as Sienna with parts, and he made sure to tell her so. She shrugged.
“There's lots of time to learn things when you can't practice spells,” she said.
Just then, Pedro swept up behind them.
“Did you have a good conversation upstairs?”
“We did,” Sienna replied. “Thank you. I have a lot to look into.”
“It appears you are looking into my stock,” Pedro answered, one eyebrow raised. “Both my parts and my workers.”
Desmond glanced to Sienna.
“They should know,” he said. “They should know of their options in life. The school is not for the rich or privileged If they are magically inclined, they will be tested.”
“And put to a series of rigorous tests for the rest of their lives, traveling around to save others with their Maestros and get no say in the matter,” Pedro's words were harsh, but his tone was quiet. He had clearly done more research into this than anyone was letting on. “Isn't that so?”
Sienna couldn't deny that she often had no say as to where they went most days. If there was a quest for Jeffro, she was usually on it, but aside from that, she went whoever they told her to.
“Look,” Pedro lowered his voice. “I know you think that you are coming in here and being a white knight, taking these children off to a better life and I'm just some horrible slave driver. But I actually care about them – their futures, their lives. I'm not sending them off to some nameless place where they will be just a number, a statistic.”
“It's not like that,” Desmond tried to argue.
“Do I have your personal assurance?” Pedro asked. “That if you take one or two of my best, you will personally take care of them?”
“I will of course keep an eye on…”
“That's not what I meant,” Pedro replied, looking between him and Sienna. “I never had a family of my own. I don't want them randomly checked in upon as you pass them in the hallway.”
“I—” Desmond paused. “What would you like me to do?”
“If they go with you, if they want to, they become your responsibility,” Pedro said. “You have to assure me.”
“You have someone in mind,” Desmond said. “I can tell by your tone.”
Pedro sighed. “There are two,” he said. “Who have dreams of your school. No matter what they hear about it, they still dream. There are so many that have talent, but some want to stay here. I don't want to hold them back. I just want to make sure they are taken care of.”
“If you sell us the parts we need,” Sienna put in. “We can transport them there, put in a good word, and work to make sure they have the best futures.”
“They will be trained?”
“There's no promise of that,” Sienna replied. “They would have to pass entrance exams, blood work…and then it's hard work, even then.”
“But with your gene, they train you?” Pedro asked.
Sienna took a step back. “I'm…”
“Sienna was one of the most powerful witches to ever enter the school,” Desmond said. “No one had seen power like hers in centuries. She could do at the drop of a hat what others only dreamed of.”
“And now?”
Sienna looked down at the floor, stepping back. Desmond resisted the urge to put an arm around her, to point out all the accomplishments she had done over the past two days without any magic at all.
“And now, she finds other ways,” Desmond answered.
Pedro nodded.
“Of course. Davine lives a normal life, she…”
“I could resurrect the dead!” Desmond had not expected a sudden outburst from her. It was out of character. He whipped his head around, to see tears flowing down her face. “No one else could do that. I could save lives. I could return people to this world. I could read minds as easily as breathing. Except I couldn't eat, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't sleep. My choice had to be that my life was worth more than those I could save, and how can I make that choice? This is the only way I can keep working, without perishing. There is no normal life.”
“Sienna!” Desmond said in alarm, but she turned and stormed off. He watched her go, her shoulders shaking and let out a deep sigh. “I'm sorry. She's been...”
“Please apologize to her,” Pedro said. “I did not mean to upset her.”
“I don't think it's you,” Desmond answered, looking around the factory. There was so much magic, so much potential, so much hope. Each of these children could go on to save thousands, if not millions of lives if they were properly trained.
It would be a hard case to make to the Jurors. Some were too old, others were ruffians without the class and elegance that was needed, perhaps without the discipline They knew their lives. They knew what they considered their families. They had been using magic for years, untrained, and it would be hard to put them in line with what the Jurors achieved. He would have to make one of the best cases every presented.
And he knew one of the first things the Jurors would point out is that he did not have the time, could not devote the attention when his Tiro required daily care.
The lives of many versus the lives of the few weighed heavily on his shoulders. He did not always believe in everything that Jurors dictated, or everything the Order said. But he did believe in doing only good with magic, in serving Nature and saving lives. He believed in a power higher than himself, and he believed that they were created to be the guardians of the galaxy.
The time was now, he realized, to move on.
“You will have my personal assurance,” Desmond said. “That any of the children who come with us will be taken care of, by me. I may not train them, but I will be their mentor, their go-to.”
“That, I can live with,” Pedro said, holding out a hand. Desmond shook it, his stomach sinking.
“I just have to talk to Sienna,” he said. “And then I will meet with those who you think would like to come.”