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Before the revolution started, and before she met Alec Corbett, Sky Turner was a girl in a city of thousands. Until the day she took control of her own destiny....

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Sky

One

The panic in the street was tangible. Swarms of people clung around the makeshift market stalls like pigeons to a scattering of crumbs. The rabble of voices and booming cries of the sellers drowned out anything else. Old empty oil drums threw flickers of heat out into the stiff, stale air. The Sphere overhead might well keep heat inside the city for most of the year, but the winters were still bitter. She held the bundle close to her chest, wrapping it in the feeble layers of a grey, woolen coat that was two sizes too small. People wriggled and writhed along the crowded street on either side, but she was so small that she cut through them like the prow of a ship through water. Then suddenly she was ejected out of the masses. Sky Turner stumbled free and took a moment to catch her breath. Away from all the bodies, it was even colder. At least in the busy market street everyone had shared their warmth, albeit unwillingly. It was about the only thing anyone in the City of London would share. Things were so tight that people would

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fight over the smallest scrap of anything. Sky held the bundle even tighter and pressed on. She passed by the old Houses of Parliament; the crumble wreck of an era long since gone. The clock tower stood tall but with no pride; the clock that had once chimed throughout the day had fallen silent many decades ago. The clock face was all-but-gone; ravaged by an old fire. Even so, it surprised Sky that it had been allowed to stand; if only the Board of Officials knew what it meant for the people below it. With the old river behind her, Sky continued into the older parts of the city. All the buildings: the solid, imposing white structures had faded to grey. Their windows were boarded over and they looked derelict. But Sky knew, inside those walls, were families and crowds of strangers banded together, protected from the cold and surviving together, side-by-side. She took a turn and weaved into the back streets. The tall, twisted Liberty Tower snuck in and out of view between the buildings on the other side of the old river. The Government‘s main facility was the tallest thing around. Even in the cold, winter air it still managed to gleam and shimmer: a beacon of torment. Her street was ghostly quiet, like in the apocalypse stories her mother had read to her when she was younger. Although of course now there was no need for fiction. They were living the apocalypse, or at least on the very fringe of one. Sky burst through the sheltered front door of her family’s home, stamping her feet on the other side of the threshold as if

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to dispense the cold. As she looked up she sensed the tightening grip of a silence in the room she’d just entered. Her eyes met with those of about twenty other people that were crowded into the living room. They stood around the old metal dustbin in the centre; its blackened interior aglow with the heat of a small fire. There was a lid on top of it with a ragged, pipework chimney they ran across the ceiling and out through a rough hole in the wall. Her father stood at the centre of the congregation. His face was a mixture of emotion: a slight smile at the sight of his daughter returned safely, but a furrow on his brow at being interrupted. Sky flashed a small smile in his direction before dipping her head and scurrying into the kitchen, where she joined her mother and two siblings. As she shut the kitchen door she heard the voices begin to rise again. ‘It’s the third meeting this week’ her mother tutted softly, shook her head and returned her attention to her two younger children. ‘Your father is going to get noticed if he’s not careful’. ‘It’s market day’ Sky exhaled as she unwrapped herself from the confines of her coat. The bundle which she’d protected so closely tumbled into her hers. Her mother whirled back to face her. ‘What did you get?’ she asked with heated anticipation. Sky stretched out her open arms and delivered the parcel. Inside was some fresh bread, a few unlabeled silver tins and two

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thinly knitted jumpers. To say the jumpers were second hand was an understatement. The wear on them was evident in the small holes and the faded colouring. But they would do perfect for Ashley and Meg. ‘The place was crawling with Government Guards; father doesn’t have to worry today’. ‘I worry everyday’ her mother replied. She ran a weary hand gently down Sky’s face and smiled a smile warmer than any fire. Her eyes were aglow with adoration. ‘Thank you, sweetheart’. ‘You know I don’t mind. I’d work, if you’d let me’ Sky said in earnest, helping herself to a little of the bread she’d just provided. Her mother stayed silent for a moment whilst she settled Sky’s younger siblings into their new jumpers. When she next turned back to Sky, her expression had shifted and she could see that her mother was unhappy. ‘Well, about that’. As she started speaking Sky could see that her mother was struggling. She had always been a very proud woman and it pained her that Sky had to go rummaging around the market: dipping, diving and swiping what she could. It would almost be better if she could do it herself and spare Sky the danger. But her days of crawling under tables and weaving between people’s legs were long behind her. ‘Sky, you know how we’ve always managed to get by’. Sky nodded. The bread in her mouth became slightly dry and she chewed more slowly.

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‘Your father and I, we’re struggling. Quite a lot. We appreciate so much all that you do for us but…’ ‘It’s not enough’ Sky’s face fell sullen. ‘No!’ her mother stood up from her chair and swooped to embrace Sky in her arms. ‘Sky, you go above and beyond for us. It’s just that we’re not going to survive the winter on petty theft. I can’t work and your father’s all caught up in his silly meetings’. ‘They’re not silly’ Sky said defensively. She held her mother back a little so as to look her in the eye. ‘Something will come of them, you’ll see’. Sky’s mother shook her head gently. ‘Everyone is too tired and weak to stand up to the Board and their Governments on Earth. Yesterday I saw someone hand over their groceries because they lacked the energy to fight for them. Where are people supposed to find the fuel for a revolution?’ Sky shrugged heavily. ‘It just needs…something. It only takes a footstep to cause an avalanche’. Sky’s mother stepped back and smiled proudly. ‘You are wise beyond your years, young lady…which is why you father and I were thinking that you could go to work’. ‘You know I want to’ Sky replied merrily. ‘It’s not a problem’. ‘We hate to make you’. ‘You’re not making me’. ‘You’re only sixteen…’ ‘Almost seventeen’. ‘It’s just so tough…’

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‘Mum’ Sky stood up sternly. ‘It’s okay. I want to work. Work or be a part of what dad is organizing. I know which you’d prefer’. Sky pursed her lips challenging but they soon crept up into a grin. ‘Don’t tease me, Sky’ her mother replied tenderly. ‘My heart can barely cope with the world we’re in, let alone making it even more dangerous! Now help me with dinner, we’ll eat once you’re father’s finished in there’.

Two That night had been bitterly cold. Sky and her family huddled together around the fire pit in their living room. A circle of warmth embraced them but beyond it the air was icy cold. Frost gripped the net curtains that covered the window and froze them stiff. They were woken earlier than usual by frantic knocking on the door. Before her father had a chance to get up and open it, it was flung inward and a man stumbled into the room. Through tired eyes, Sky recognised him as one of her father’s closest friends. ‘I’m so sorry, Fred’ he gushed, swiping his flat cap off his head and clutching it in his hands, as if this gesture might make his abrupt entrance more respectful. ‘It’s, it’s okay’ her fathered stammered as he flicked off the thick blanket and got to his feet. The cold rushed into the void

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he’d left behind and Sky was immediately awake, like a bucket of cold water to the face. ‘They’re marching over Westminster Bridge. They’re going to bulldoze the Elizabeth Tower – Big Ben is going to fall’. Sky had never seen her father move so fast. He splashed water onto his face and swept around their small living quarters like a madman; dashing up and down the stairs, in and out of the kitchen, all the while barking instructions at his friend. ‘Gather everyone on the north side of the bridge’ he said frantically as he hopped into his shoes. ‘Make sure their families stay indoors, we don’t want other casualties’. ‘Casualties?’ Sky’s mother interjected. ‘Fred, what are you doing?’ ‘They’re not taking the clock tower’. ‘Fred, it’s just a clock’. He shook his head adamantly and passion ignited behind his eyes. ‘Don’t say that. You know it’s more than that. It’s our symbol, our flagship. If it falls then…’ Fred looked solemnly at his friend, who replaced his flat cap and was standing in the open doorway. ‘I don’t wish to think what that will do to morale’. ‘I want to come’ Sky stepped forward. Discreetly she’d been slipping into her shoes and buttoning up her coat tightly over her chest. ‘I want to help’. Fred Turner smiled. He reached down and held his daughter’s face in his hands. ‘Help me by staying here. I need

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you to look after your siblings. Your mother needs you here. Please, Sky, stay’. Sky bit her lip and gave a small, reluctant nod. She would have argued, and could have – she had a whole speech prepared. But she could see the desperation in her father’s eyes and how keen he was to leave as soon as possible. She would only hold him back and delay him, which would only damage his cause. Most unhelpful. ‘Thank you, sweetheart’ he kissed her firmly on the head. He glanced at Sky’s mother and she nodded stiffly. He kissed her reluctant lips, glanced at the still-sleeping younger children, and swept out of their house. Not knowing what else to do once she’d helped her mother feed and dress her siblings, Sky booted up her family’s computer and sought out her friends on forums of the long-forgotten Internet. Nowadays, the Tablanet was all the range, but the underground network thrived on the Internet, which had been rebooted and maintained in secret after the Board of Officials had shut it down fourteen years ago. It was the only safe way to communicate with her friends. They met in person only occasionally. The streets were often too dangerous, filled with criminal characters on every corner, to venture very far in the city. She had friends as far as East London, near the reinvigorated Olympic Village where high priority visitors to the former capital city stayed.

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When she logged into one of her regular forums she found that it was alive with activity. There were more people online that she’d ever seen before and there was one thread in particular that was drawing people’s attention. It was at the very top of the list with a very curious name:

The Final Days

Sky clicked on it with as much anticipation as she imagined that everyone else had. The thread was now overwhelmingly long; well over two hundred comments, but the original message appeared first and she read it eagerly.

Hello, Internet.

The wheels have been set in motion for major social change. The final

days of the Board’s oppressive regime are here. We are going to

need your help. You’ll know when the time is right because someone

will be there to show you how.

Alec Corbett is coming soon. He’s going to save the world.

Sky read the message, and then she read it again. Her heart was pounding.

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‘Mum!’ she shouted and her mother came running frantically down the stairs. Upstairs belonged to another family but Sky’s younger siblings played with their children during the day. ‘What’s the matter?’ her mother panted. She wasn’t in the best of physical conditions. ‘Look’ Sky pointed at the screen and then read the message aloud. ‘Oh my goodness’ her mother whispered. ‘Is this real, is this genuine?’ ‘I can ask my friend to find the person who wrote it, he’s good with that kind of thing’ Sky told her, already on her feet and pulling on her shoes. ‘You can’t go out there!’ her mother told her. ‘I promise I won’t go near the bridge!’ Sky pleaded. ‘Rupert lives in the other direction anyway. Dad needs to know about this, especially if it’s genuine. If I can find out now then he doesn’t need to waste his time protesting on the bridge!’ Her mother’s lips twitched anxiously. It was clear that she didn’t like the idea, but the thought of her husband being able to return safely was overriding any doubt. ‘Okay’ her mother nodded. ‘But you go straight to Rupert’s!’ Sky beamed, kissed her mother on the cheek, and ran out of the door.

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Three

It had been a bit of a lie to say that Rupert lived in the opposite direction to the protests. He in fact lived along the bank of the old riverbed, on the north side opposite the site where a large Ferris wheel had once stood, to give tourists views across the city. Sky found it hard to believe that tourists – when tourism had been a thing – would ever want to come to London. She had only ever known it as a desolate and bleak city, filled with impoverished people and plagued by illness and death. Sky didn’t go right to the protests, but she navigated the back streets and found herself on the riverside about a hundred metres along from Westminster Bridge. The remains of an old pedestrian bridge lay before her: wiry, white metal points sticking up into the air which had once held the bridge. But it had long since fallen into disrepair and crumbled into the murky river beneath it. In the other direction, she could see the line of protesters about a third of the way across Westminster Bridge, blocking Government forces as they surrounded a large, bulldozing vehicle to protect it from a siege. The tension was palpable and she knew that both sides were treading carefully. If the protesters got too out of hand, the Government Guards wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate with heavy, fatal violence. Yet the Guards also had to be careful; one misstep on their part and the

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Government would lose the last shreds of control they had over their citizens. It was a frightful balance. Sky couldn’t bear to watch for too long. Rupert only lived a minute further downstream. She knocked rapidly on his door and he answered almost immediately. He was a boy of sixteen, with deep, dark red hair and a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He wore thick-rimmed, square glasses and his whole demeanor screamed nerd. ‘Sky’ he said, suddenly flustered. He pushed his glasses further up his face and quickly ran a hand through his thick hair. ‘I wasn’t expecting you’. ‘I bet you can guess why I’m here though’ she gently pushed past him and slipped inside, out of the cold. Rupert’s home was surprisingly warm, though that was mostly because it was so overcrowded. It wasn’t so much of a family home, more of an orphanage. There were kids everywhere of all ages: the little lost souls of London. ‘The forum post?’ Rupert asked. He led her to the only window in the room where, on an old battered armchair, he had his laptop set up. One of the other children – a young girl no older than ten – was playing a game on it. But as soon as she saw Rupert returning she hopped up and handed him his computer. ‘Cheers, Martha’ he smiled. She thanked him politely before dashing off to play with the other kids.

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‘I want to know who wrote it’ Sky said. She looked at Rupert challengingly and she was pleased to see that he didn’t buckle under her request. ‘You’re in luck’ Rupert said. His hands flashed across the keyboard as he rattled the keys to type in a string of numbers and letters. ‘I’ve already been in conversation’. Sky did her best not to look totally surprised, though her friend continued to amaze her. ‘Can you talk to them now?’ Sky asked, swallowing heavily to force down the apprehension that was creeping up on her. Rupert turned to her with narrowed eyes and a questioning expression. ‘Why? Why are you so interested?’ Sky took a deep breath and then let out a long sigh. ‘My dad is out there right now, fighting for some daft symbol of hope to keep alive a revolution which is on the verge of dying before it even starts. A revolution that can’t be stirred from the ashes of a city that is already broken. I love my dad, I admire him, but he can’t do it alone. He needs more – we need more. So I guess what I’m asking is: is there more?’ Rupert nodded pensively. His fingers rattled over the keys on his laptop and the screen was filled by a live image of the two of them sitting side-by-side. ‘I don’t want to be seen’ Sky shuffled out of the camera’s range. ‘Suit yourself…’ Rupert mumbled.

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The image of Rupert on the screen shrunk into the bottom left corner and was replaced by a new frame, filled with grey, white and black static. It took a moment to clear and focus but, when it did, there was a young black man waiting to greet him. ‘Hello, Rupert’ the man said. His voice was deep and thick, with such resonance that is was intimidating to hear. ‘Trent’ Rupert bade, with a curt nod, in response. ‘What can I do for you?’ Rupert paused a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘I saw your message on the forum’, he began. ‘I need to know more. There’s a struggle here, in London. A struggle which could be greatly improved if we had some news that might boost morale’. Sky watched as Trent sat back and heaved a huge breath. He ran a hand over his very short, fuzzy hair and clamped his lips together, wondering what he could tell his associate on Earth. ‘I’ve had some news recently. There’s been a huge development on the ISS – direct movements and actions against the Board of Officials’ Trent spoke slowly, selectively. ‘You mentioned Alec Corbett. The son of the Board member, Landon?’ Trent nodded. ‘I’d heard things about him but I had it confirmed to me this morning. It would seem he’s working against the Board of Officials’.

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‘Are you sure?’ Rupert asked, his brow furrowing deeply. ‘Is it not some kind of trick? A ploy, for Alec to immerse himself amongst us only to turn us over?’ ‘I don’t think so’ Trent shook his head. ‘He’s betrayed his father pretty badly. You’ll hear about the repercussions of that soon, I’m sure’. Rupert nodded, satisfied. ‘Is that helpful to you?’ Rupert glanced at Sky who tipped her head in confirmation. ‘Are you with someone?’ Trent asked, with an air of suspicion. ‘A friend. She doesn’t want to appear though’. ‘I understand’ Trent acknowledged. ‘Hold tight down there. Don’t be tempted to fight or resist. Just play the long game for a bit longer. Help is coming, one way or another’. With that said, Trent terminated the call and Rupert was left staring at a blank screen. ‘I think that told you all you wanted to know’ Rupert said, closing the screen down on the laptop and setting it to one side. He was about to open his mouth to continue talking when the glass window behind them trembled audibly, followed quickly by the boom of an explosion. ‘What was that?’ Panic flared up in Sky’s chest. ‘The protest!’

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Four Sky ran faster than her legs had ever gone before. Rupert struggled, wheezing along behind her. Ahead there was smoke. A grey fist of it curled into the air, a thin column trailing behind it. The chatter of gunfire had started. It was all coming from Westminster Bridge. ‘Please, please, please’ Sky chanted with each footfall. The bridge was just out of sight; obscured behind lampposts, abandoned vehicles and old, dead tree trunks. But as she rounded a slight bend, the bridge came into view and Sky was stunned by what she could see. A second group of protesters had appeared on the south side of Westminster Bridge. They were blocking the Government Guards and their bulldozer between the two groups, on the middle of the bridge, with nowhere to go. It was on the south side of the bridge that the fighting had started. The protesters had thrown some kind of makeshift bomb, which had struck the rear end of the demolition vehicle. There was a scattering of Guard’s bodies around the back of the bulldozer, which was on fire: a fire that was swelling in size and throwing plumes of black smoke into the sky. In response the Government Guards had turned on the protesters on the south side of the bridge. Most of them had taken up defensive stances and were firing upon the protesters,

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who hid behind wrecks of cars and homemade shields. All the while they threw projectiles: rocks, bottles, the occasional petrol bomb; anything they could get their hands on. Sky’s gaze drifted to the north side of the bridge, to her father’s cluster of demonstrators. The remaining Government Guards were holding them back from joining their comrades on the other side of the bridge. Voices were shouting and tension was rapidly rising as the fighting filled them with angst and fuelled their hatred. ‘Sky, no!’ Rupert shouted, too late. She flung herself forward into the fray and began barging through the jostling crowd of angry protesters. The Government Guards were simply blocking their way, but it was only a matter of time until it turned violent. ‘Dad!’ Sky began shouting at the top of her lungs. She was thrown from side to side and almost knocked to the ground many times. But she pushed on, with just one aim in mind. She had to stop the protest. She had to find her father. ‘Dad!’ Sky bellowed. ‘Sky!’ came a puzzled reply. She whirled around, looking for the source of the call. It had been her dad’s voice, she was certain. But it was hard to see and hard to hear as the crowd grew more and more raucous by the second. There was another explosion and this time Sky felt it pound against her eardrum. Her ears started ringing and she watched black smoke erupt into the air. She was sure the whole protest was about to succumb to violence.

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Hands clawed at her clothes. Finger grasped hold of her skin; around her shoulders, and pulled her so hard that she staggered off-center. She gasped and fell into the arms of her father. He was outraged. His face was red and riddle with frowns and furrows of fury. ‘Sky, what the hell are you doing here?!’ he demanded. ‘Dad, you have to stop this’ Sky spoke hurriedly, the words pouring out of her moth and tumbling over one another. ‘They have to wait; the revolution is coming but not here, not now. Not in this way’. ‘What do you mean, Sky?’ he pulled her closer. The two of them in the crowd were perfectly still, like the centre of a hurricane – the calm within the storm. Sky quickly explained all that she’d learned from the Internet and her experience with Rupert. ‘These people will listen to you, dad. If this whole protest ends in violence then the Government will have cause to persecute all of us for the rest of time. We can’t give them that! It needs a peaceful resolution, now!’ Sky’s father’s eyes darted around frantically. She could see the cogs of his brain going into overdrive as he rapidly formulated a plan of action. He turned back to her and gripped her tightly. ‘Stay right here, don’t even move’. Before she could respond he was pushing through the crowd.

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‘Irvine, give me your gun’ he demanded of a man standing close by. Without hesitation, the man untucked his gun from his waistband and placed it in Fred Turner’s waiting hand. Her father then dashed to the edge of the bridge and climbed up onto the side, using an old rusted lamppost to pull himself up. ‘Everyone, listen to me!’ he called but his voice was drowned out by the chaos all around. He looked desperately across the crowd, for anyone that might have heard and could spread his call for silence. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. With no other choice, he pointed the gun straight up into the air and fired. The old-Earth style weapon exploded with a ferocious bang that sent a bullet hurtling over the bridge and down the river. The crowd turned to the direction of the sound and when they saw Fred Turner standing there, everyone stopped what they were doing. The silence fell across them like an eerie wave and Fred Turner suddenly held everyone’s attention. Even the Government Guards were staring up at him. ‘Everyone, stop!’ he shouted across the frozen masses. ‘We must stop this, right now. If we continue then no good will come of this…’ Sky was captivated by her father and was stunned to see that everyone else was too. Not one person took their eyes off him. She’d never realised the power he held. Maybe she had been wrong to stop this; maybe she should have trusted his authority after all.

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‘We’re digging our own graves here. Let them have the clock tower. For while they might be able to dissemble it brick by brick, they will never diminish our spirit! In a war you must choose your battles carefully, and not every battle can or will be won. It is my belief that this battle is not worth the fight, nor the loss of life. So let us go; let us return to – ’ A shot rang out. Sky screamed. Her father jerked backwards and fell from the bridge. The crowd turned to the Government Guards, and to the one who held the smoking gun. The angry stares of over one hundred people bore down on him menacingly. Another scream curled up in Sky’s throat and she barged forwards, shoving people left and right until she reached the front of the fray. Her whole body was heaving, almost beyond her control, as rage gripped her like a vice. ‘He was surrendering’ she glowered, barely keeping control of herself. Her hands were bunched up into fists. ‘Who the hell are you?’ a man beside her asked. His anger stemmed from her father’s shooting, but he was directing it now at the little girl who’d just shoved him aside. Little did she know he’d been just seconds from shooting the guilty Guard. ‘I am Fred Turner’s daughter’ she told him scornfully. She hadn’t known she was capable of such menace or hatred, but she felt it fueling her now. It was all she could do to keep it controlled. The man suddenly stepped back slightly; shock and sympathy immediately in his eyes.

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‘He was surrendering’ Sky turned her rage back upon the Guard. ‘He was calling for retreat. This whole protest was about to end’ she spat each word at the Guard before her. He looked surprised, more than anything. Surprised, perhaps, that none of the protesters had violently retaliated to his actions. ‘We will not give you a retort’ Sky said, loud enough for everyone behind her to hear. ‘We will not stoop to your level and attack you under provoked conditions. We know what you want from us, and we will not give it to you. ‘Our time will come, and you will beg at our feet for mercy and then, then we will give you the mercy that you just showed my father’ Sky scorned. She turned slowly, only taking her eyes off the Guard when it was no longer possible to stare at him, and addressed the crowd behind her. ‘Leave, all of you now. Do not fight here today – do not give your lives for these Government criminals’. Slowly, reluctantly, the crowd began to depart. They remained in total silence as chunks of people broke away, heading back to their homes and families across the city. As soon as there was space to manoeuvre, Sky dashed to the side of the bridge where her father had fallen. There, thirty metres below, her father lay in the shallows of the old river. ‘Help me’ Sky turned, her eyes filled with tears, and grabbed the nearest person to her. It was a young man, no older than twenty. He saw her distress and rounded up a group of his friends before heading down onto the banks of the river.

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Five

The bolt of energy fire by the Guard had only struck her father on the shoulder. His clothes were singed and his skin was blackened and burned bright red. But it was not the shot that had caused the most damage; the fall from the bridge seemed to have broken most of his bones. But he was alive. By some small miracle, he was still alive. The hospital which served the people of London barely qualified as such. It was more like a large building filled by people who wanted to make a difference and help people, but didn’t have either experience or qualifications. Regardless, Sky knew that to be the best place for him. They carried him through the streets on the frame of an old, single bed. The wooden slats had been screwed down to stop them shifting as they carried the weight of her father. The group of young men who’d helped Sky recover his body from the shallows of the old, dirty Thames carried him now through the streets, as if they were parading a martyr. The news of his near-fatal clash with the Government Guards had travelled quickly and people had poured out to watch him go by. Sky stared at their bleak, dirty faces; their eyes alive with burning hatred for the overbearing authoritative figures

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of the city. They all stood silently, their lips fixed in a permanent grimace of discontent. When they reached the hospital and set her father into a room of his own, Sky received the news that she’d been expecting to hear. ‘It doesn’t look promising’ a woman who had been designated as “chief nurse” told her remorsefully. Sky couldn’t even cry. It was just too much and her brain refused to acknowledge it. ‘We can’t tell, but we suspect that there is huge internal bleeding, not to mention multiple skeletal fractures and breakages. The extent of the damage reaches far-beyond our capabilities…’ The chief nurse prattled on but Sky blocked her out. She didn’t want to hear it. It wasn’t the news she wanted. ‘…he probably only has a few hours left’ the chief nurse concluded and it was the last that Sky heard from her. She sat at her father’s bedside, waiting for the news to reach her mother and for her to arrive. She appeared almost an hour later, but Sky’s father was still unconscious. Her mother held her tightly and Sky could feel her mother’s chest faltering and she struggled to smother her tears and her sadness. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Turner?’ The curtain around them twitched open and the face of a young, Asian man appeared in the gap created. From his features, Sky could tell that he was of Japanese descent. His slender, brown eyes were covered by

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square-lens glasses whilst his jet black hair was neatly combed to one side. He wore a suit beneath a white lab coat and carried a peculiar, cylindrical briefcase. ‘Yes?’ Sky’s mother sniffed and turn toward the stranger. ‘My name is Akio Kimura, I am a representative from the Sato Foundation for Medical Advancements’ he bowed steeply towards them before stepping forward and pulling the curtain closed behind him. ‘How can we help you?’ Sky asked. Her curiosity had flared in his presence. ‘Actually, it is more to do with how I can help you’ he smiled sheepishly. His soft accent delivered the words delicately and with well-articulated precision. ‘Your father is a very important man, it is important he survives’. ‘Says who? Who exactly do you represent?’ Sky scrutinised. Akio seemed to succumb a little to the pressure she put on him. He winced uncomfortably and his face bunched up nervously. ‘Er, I work for the Sato Foundation for Medical Advancements’. ‘You said that already’ Sky’s mother cut in. ‘Who sent you?’ Akio paused hesitantly as he thought about his next answer. They could tell from his expression that he was thinking of a way to avoid their questions. ‘Your father is a very important man. He could be the one to light a fuse on the start of a revolution here in London’.

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‘He nearly did, today’ Sky interjected. Akio shook his head. ‘No. I mean, if he dies, he would become a martyr. The uprising would start with his death’. Sky pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘Not that I want my father to have to die, but why would that be such a bad thing?’ Sky’s mother turned to her with a face full of shock, but her expression soon dissipated when she realised that her daughter’s question had been innocently asked. ‘I can only say so much’ Akio stuttered. ‘If the revolution started now, it would be too soon…’ ‘Because it has to begin with Alec Corbett?’ Akio flinched in surprise. ‘How do you know that?’ Sky shrugged as if it was nothing. ‘I read it. Why is he so important?’ Akio looked from Sky to her mother and back again. ‘I’m not sure how you would say this…erm, Alec Corbett is the right person’. ‘But why?’ Sky stressed. ‘Because he will represent defiant revolution in its purist, simplest form’ Akio explained but he could tell by the look on Sky’s face that she wasn’t satisfied with that answer. ‘Look, you must trust me and there is not much time left for your father’. ‘You can save him?’ Sky’s mother asked eagerly. Her whole body leaned forward, pleading. Akio nodded. He set down his cylindrical bag on the bed next to Frank Turner’s motionless, almost-lifeless body and

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opened it. He pulled out a long, large syringe. It was filled with a clear liquid that glittered and shimmered, as if it had small bits of silver and gold suspended in the fluid. ‘What is that? What will it do?’ Sky’s mother demanded. Suddenly the thought of a complete stranger treating her husband with a peculiar medication didn’t sound quite so good in her mind. ‘Nanotechnology’ he replied. Akio rummaged further into the bag and pulled out a tablet computer. His fingers were suddenly flashing across the screen in a blur. ‘I’m programming the microscopic robots in this syringe to fix Fred’s injuries’ he explained to Sky as she moved to stand beside him. He held the tablet over her father’s body and then moved it up and down the entire length of his body. On the screen, she saw multiple scanned images of his body appear with the different injuries highlighted in red. Sky gasped when she saw that her father’s head was emphasised. ‘He has a lot of internal bleeding and, as I heard the nurse telling you earlier, extensive skeletal damage’ Akio said as his fingers flashed across the tablet screen once again. ‘It’s lucky you have let me work on him now, he has barely any life left’. At this point Sky’s mother pulled her back, away from Akio and her father’s body, so that he could work uninterrupted. He picked up the syringe and injected the liquid directly into her father’s chest. The long needle sunk through his skin, right to his heart, where Akio released the nanotechnology fluid.

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‘Is that it?’ Sky asked. She was almost underwhelmed by how easy it had been. Given her father’s condition, she had thought it would take a lot more effort to fix him. Akio nodded. ‘Give him five-to-ten minutes and he’ll make a full recovery. The heart will transport the Nanoserum around his body very quickly. I would take him home before any of the nurses notice that he’s completely healed. I shouldn’t be here and this technology is not to be known of’. ‘What will happen to the nanotechnology in his body?’ Sky asked as Akio made his swift exit. He paused at the edge of the curtain to quickly respond to her. ‘It will shut down and pass naturally out of his body after one month’ Akio replied. ‘In the meantime it’s programmed to repair his body automatically. Just don’t let your father think he is indestructible, the effect will wear off’. Sky nodded. ‘What is important now, Sky, is for you to tell everyone that your father is alive’ Akio explained. He removed his glasses, as if to communicate his seriousness via direct eye contact. ‘The tension in this city is tangible. They must know the revolution is coming, but not yet. Not now’. With those words said, Akio disappeared through the curtain, just as Sky’s father stirred into consciousness behind her and her mother.

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‘Fred!’ her mother gasped and fell down on her knees beside him. Sky stood behind her, smiling down as her father’s eyes blinked open.

Six

Fred Turner looked across the room, over the fire pit, at his daughter where she sat beneath the window. Her siblings were on either side of her and they were insisting on playing a game they loved, that Sky was far too old for. But she played regardless, smiling and laughing along with them. Her siblings giggled raucously and Fred cracked a smile too. After falling from the bridge, he thought he’d never hear his children laugh again. He had to remind himself that Sky was still just a child herself. Though after the past few days, he could see the young woman emerging from within. There was intelligence and maturity growing, and he could sense it. ‘Dad!’ Sky stressed, interrupting his train of thought. He looked up, smiling. ‘Sorry. Sorry’. ‘I’m going out’ she told him gently. She still treated him as if he were fragile. But Fred had never felt better in his life. Whatever technology had brought him back from the brink of death had worked wonders. ‘Be careful’ he told her gently.

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Sky’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘You’re not going to try and stop me?’ Fred chuckled and shook his head. ‘I think you more than proved your worth on the day of the protest. If you could save all of those people, I’m sure you can look after yourself’. Sky’s cheeks blushed with pride and she threw her arms around her father. ‘Thank you’ she whispered softly in his ear, and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Just make sure you’re back in time for tea!’ he grinned as Sky pulled away. ‘We don’t want your mother getting annoyed with us’. Sky beamed, nodded, and dashed out of the door. The cold air hit her and her breath froze in front of her face. She wrapped her coat tight and dug her hands into her pocket. By now she thought that she would be used to the cold; she had spent the past few days on the streets for hours. Spreading the message that her father was alive and extinguishing rebellious notions hadn’t been as easy as she had imagined it would be. Many of them wanted proof, but Sky’s mother was keeping Fred Turner protectively indoors for at least a week. ‘They’ll come and meet here, then!’ he had told her. The look she’d given him was enough to scare Sky for days, so it was little wonder that her father had backed down. It was with reluctance that Sky’s mother had let her go around the city to calm the tension caused by her father’s near-death, but Sky’s

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mother understood the importance of what Sky had to do after their meeting with Akio. Eventually the word had been accepted and the news that her father was already planning new protests (to tell them what Akio had explained about Alec Corbett would seem too far-fetched to quench their thirst for freedom) was enough to satisfy people for the time-being. As she arrived at Rupert’s place, she realised that for the first time she had walked through the streets without encountering anger and tension. Everyone seemed remarkably calm in the aftermath of the protests on Westminster Bridge. ‘You only have yourself to thank for that’ Rupert told her when she shared this thought with him. ‘People trust what you’ve told them, and they believe in your father’. ‘Even though he’s not going to be the one to lead the revolution’ Sky sulked, picking at the dry skin around her finger nails. ‘And you’re sad about that?’ Rupert asked quizzically. ‘You should be pleased. It means your father’s life won’t be at as much risk’. ‘That’s true’ Sky agreed. ‘I just…’ ‘What?’ ‘I don’t just want to watch this all happen from the sidelines. I want to be a part of it’. ‘Why?’ Rupert continued to challenge her. ‘You don’t owe the world anything’.

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‘I know, I know’ Sky muttered dismissively. ‘It’s just…I want to. I want to do something better than just live, or work in a normal job. I want my life to mean something and I want to contribute to something better’. ‘High ambitions’ Rupert remarked with a flicker of a raised eyebrow. ‘The opportunity is right there’ Sky said. ‘I know it. But I have no way of reaching it’. Rupert sat pensively in his regular armchair in front of the window. Behind him, through the feeble net curtains, were the crumbling buildings on the other side of the Thames, with the Liberty Tower rising tall and proud behind them. ‘There’ he said slowly. She didn’t realise, but he too had been staring out of the window. ‘You want to be at the centre of everything that’s going on, that’s where you need to be’ he tapped his finger on the glass, pointing at the Liberty Tower in the distance. Sky scoffed loudly. ‘As if they would take on impoverished citizens in there’ she mocked, shaking her head. ‘It’s beyond elitist’. Rupert put his laptop to one side and pulled himself out of the old, beaten armchair. He went to the middle of the room where, on a makeshift table made out of cardboard boxes, was a pile of newspapers and newsletters. They were what the Government published weekly and monthly to try and show that

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they cared about the people they served, by keeping them informed with petty news and false hope. ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way in’ Rupert smiled enthusiastically, tossing half of the pile in her direction. He returned to his armchair and began leafing through the pages. ‘What are we looking for, exactly?’ ‘Anything’ Rupert said, unhelpfully. ‘Anything you think you can use to get yourself into that building’. ‘Why are you so certain that the Liberty Tower is the way forward?’ Rupert looked at her over the top of his newspaper. ‘If Alec Corbett was going to come to London, it will be with his father, who is a member of the Board of Officials, and that is where they would go’. Sky shrugged. She didn’t know better, so she was willing to give Rupert’s way a go. ‘Aha!’ he exclaimed. A broad smile was on his face. Sky couldn’t believe he’d found something already. It seemed ridiculous – impossible. ‘What is it?’ Sky asked reservedly. He flipped the newspaper around to show her the jobs page of the most recent publication. He tapped a finger on one of the adverts and she pulled it closer to see what it was for. ‘A cleaning job?’ Sky asked. ‘At the Liberty Tower!’ Rupert smiled gleefully. ‘They’re looking for a team of part-time cleaners. It might not be much of a job – ’

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‘I’m happy to work’ Sky insisted. Her mind briefly flashed back to a similar conversation with her mother. ‘Good. If you get it, you’ll be in the right place’ Rupert sat back proudly in his armchair. ‘You’ll just have to wait for the right time…’

Seven

Nine Weeks Later In the two month’s that she’d worked here, Sky had never seen anything like it. The employees of the Liberty Tower – not the low-level staff such as herself, but the suits and high-flyers – were buzzing around amid a tense and electric atmosphere. Conversations were exchanged in low whispers and clusters of people fell entirely silent as Sky went by, wheeling her cleaning cart through the bustling hallways and corridors of the Government’s offices. Something had happened up in space; up on the ISS. In the snippets of conversation that Sky had managed to snatch, she heard stories of an explosion, of the destruction of a SpaceShuttle and the ISS’ entire docking station. It made her heart pound to hear such news. But she couldn’t be sure. It was all just rumours and hear-say to her.

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The other cleaning staff was all abuzz too; exchanging those precious snippets of information in their eager attempts to assemble the full story. But the full story was beyond their reach. Most of them seemed to have heard the same things, or the same stories with slight variations that prevented any one story being valid. Sky did her best to listen, but by the late afternoon she was hearing nothing new. Towards the end of the day she gave up on listening and went about her work, desperate to finished and go home for the evening. She reached the next room she was due to clean and knocked lightly. It was standard procedure for cleaning staff to knock before entering a room, to avoid accidentally interrupting the busy Government employees. When there was no answer, she opened the door and let herself in. Much to her surprise, there was a teenage boy sitting at one of the tables on a tablet. She blushed instantly and backed out of the room. ‘Sorry, sir’ she uttered, pulling the door shut. ‘No, please. Come in’ he called back to her. Sky opened the door slowly and slithered in. She studied his face; piercing, gorgeous green eyes and tussled, blonde hair. His features looked soft, but those gentle eyes and fair hair clashed with a strong jawline and sharp cheekbones. ‘And please, don’t call me sir. I’m not here by choice’. He put down the tablet he’d been using and Sky felt his full attention

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focus on her. She felt a nervous bubble rising up from her stomach and her whole body tensed. ‘That makes two of us’ she said breathlessly, for want of something to say. She flashed a quick, short smile before sliding into the room and closing the door behind her. ‘You’re not from here, are you?’ He was far too clean and well-dressed. ‘How can you tell?’ he asked dryly with a wry smile on his face. ‘You’re too clean’ she told him bluntly. ‘Moon?’ ‘Close. ISS’. ‘I’m Sky’. ‘Alec’. Their exchange was rapid but his name grabbed her attention like a cold slap to the face. Her head whirled. It couldn’t be – he couldn’t be. What were the chances of her stumbling across him so easily? ‘Why are you here?’ he asked, before she could question his identity further. ‘I clean. I’m a cleaner’ she said hurriedly without much thought. ‘Why are you here?’ ‘You can’t be older than fifteen, surely?’ he asked testingly. ‘Seventeen’ she told him. ‘Older than I look. Why are you here?’ her heart was pounding. She needed to know. She needed it confirmed. Her hands were almost trembling.

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‘My name’s Alec Corbett. I’m Landon Corbett’s son’ he said, reluctantly. She could see in his face that he didn’t like to identify himself. He was ashamed, she could tell. ‘Are you here for long?’ Sky tried to be dismissive of who he was. She didn’t want to scare him off; she needed to be close to him. She knew it, almost like an instinct. ‘You do know who I am?’ Alec questioned. Her frowned and his pretty features crumpled into an expression of misunderstanding. ‘No, but I know who your father is’ Sky answered wisely. ‘Well this is a first’ he chuckled, suddenly relaxed in her presence. She watched his body language transform from tense and tight to loose and at ease in an instant. He was clearly used to being judged by his father’s qualities and actions. She couldn’t imagine how refreshing this must be for him. ‘You’re not scared or intimidated or feel like you shouldn’t talk to me, or kill me?’ ‘Why would I feel, or do, that?’ Sky asked, playing it very carefully. She was well aware of saying the slightest thing wrong. ‘You’re not your father’, she told him. ‘You’re going to save us’. ‘I am?’ Sky nodded slowly, demonstrating her utter conviction of this fact. ‘Yes. It says so on the internet’. She dropped that on him, not knowing what to expect. But he’d never heard of the internet. She thought about explaining it to him but suddenly remembered

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where she was. It was the worst possible place to discuss something so precious and secret. Sky walked quickly across the room and leant down to whisper in his ear. He smelt so clean and fresh, it was remarkable. She was almost distracted by the proximity, but remembered what she was doing. ‘We can’t speak here. I finish at five o’clock. Meet me on Oxford Street at six’ she whispered hurriedly before turning and dashing out of the room with as much composure as possible. Her heart was racing in her chest. It felt like her rib cage was about to explode. But she’d done it. She’d met Alec Corbett. Not only that, but she’d made herself a part of his plans – whatever his plans might be. Five o’clock could not come soon enough. She had to get home and prepare her father for meeting Alec. She tried not to let the excitement show on her face for the last hour of her shift. It was almost impossible: she’d got what she wanted. Sky was part of the revolution now. There was no going back.