UnWholly

40 - Starkey



Mason Starkey knows nothing of Janson Rheinschild, the terror generation, or the Heartland War. If he did, he wouldn’t care. The only teen uprising he has any interest in will involve the Stork Club.



His motives are a complex weave of self-interest and altruism. He truly wants to raise his storks to glory, as long as they all know he’s the one who’s done it. Credit where credit is due, and honor to the trickster whose illusions finally become real.



Starkey’s hoping for a silent coup, but is prepared for anything. It will either be gracious, and Connor will see the wisdom of stepping aside for a more able leader . . . or he’ll be steamrolled. Starkey will bear no guilt if it comes to that. After all, Connor, in spite of all his pretenses of fairness, still refuses to rescue storks from their unwindings.



“We save the kids we’re most likely to get away with saving,” Connor told him. “It’s not our fault that storks are in bigger families and more complicated situations.” It was the same excuse that Hayden had given him, but as far as Starkey is concerned, that’s no excuse at all.



“So you’re happy just letting them be unwound?”



“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.



“Let’s talk about the charges against you,” the journalist says, looking at her notes. “Theft of government property, namely yourself; conspiracy to commit acts of terrorism; conspiracy to commit murder—and yet all these charges against you have been dropped. Does that have anything to do with your change of heart?”



“I won’t deny that I was offered a deal,” Risa says, “but the dropping of those charges is not the reason why I’m here today.” Then she does something very simple—something that no one else would notice in the slightest, except for those who know her. . . .



Risa crosses her legs.



For Connor, it’s as if the air has been sucked out of the jet. He half expects oxygen masks to drop from the ceiling.



“If you think that’s bad, listen to this next part,” says Starkey, actually seeming to enjoy it.



“Risa, would you call your change of heart a matter of convenience or a matter of conscience?”



Risa takes time to craft her answer, but that doesn’t make it any less devastating. “Neither,” she says. “After all I’ve been faced with, I find I have no choice. For me, supporting unwinding is a matter of necessity.”



“Turn it off,” Connor says.



“There’s still more—you really should hear the end.”



“I said turn it off!”



Starkey reaches over and turns off the TV, and Connor feels his mind slamming shut like a fire door to keep out all the things too hot to handle—but he knows it’s too late; the fire has already leaped inside. In this moment he wishes he had been unwound a year ago. He wishes Lev hadn’t come in to save him, because then he would never have to feel what he’s feeling now.



“Why did you show me this?”



Starkey shrugs. “I thought you had a right to know. Hayden knows, but he’s been keeping it from you. I think that’s wrong and completely unfair to you. Knowing who’s your friend and who’s your enemy can only make you stronger, right?”