Page 70 of The Champion
My dad made a dismissive sound and moved on. “Shelly has secured resources to develop a research facility that will allow her and Victor to work. She has promised that her inventions will keep benefiting all of us and from what I understand there are plenty of scientists eager to move to Wisdomia.”
“She told me. We talk daily now.”
“Excellent.” After tapping the table, my dad pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’d better get to it then. I’m giving the French a short deadline. If they don’t open their borders by the end of this week, there will be no more financial support from the world.”
As I got up, I felt excited. “I wish I could tell Victor about everything you’ve done for us.”
My dad came around the table and opened his arms. As he hugged me, he whispered, “He’ll hear about it soon enough. However, we both know that I didn’t do it for him. I want you to be happy, Freya. It’s been hard for your mom and me to see you so worried and upset.”
Closing my eyes, I leaned my cheek against my father’s strong chest. “You’re the best dad in the world.”
He squeezed me a little closer and I felt his beard rubbing against my hair and scalp. “I promise you this: if the French are too arrogant to admit defeat, I’m handing it over to Mason and Solomon. They have the Huntsmen ready to go at any time. Mason told me that the soldiers are hoping that the negotiations will break down. It’s been too long since our military has seen some proper action. They are eager to go on a recovery mission.”
I looked up at my father with a worried glance. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; a violent confrontation could have fatal consequences and that’s the last thing we need.”
CHAPTER 20
Help Needed
Victor
Walking to work, I saw large demonstrations surrounding the Blue Tower where I used to live. From the News, I knew our newly elected prime minister, Joseph Faubert, had moved into my old penthouse apartment. He was so hated by the practical citizens that he required a police escort to get to and from work.
I stood for a moment observing the angry crowd that shouted about their grievance with the election. Six months ago I would have thought them annoying because I had been too obsessed with my work to care about much else.
Now that I had lived four months on the lowest level, I felt like raising my fist and shouting with them. I had offered our government a solution that would get everyone above ground in a matter of a few years. If they allowed people to come with me to Wisdomia, apartments above ground would become available.
Yesterday, I’d written another of my long letters to Freya, telling her about the chaos in our country. With the workers on strike, the stink from trash piling up was everywhere. Joseph Faubert was an ambitious man, but too arrogant to value practical workers. His speeches on the News about everyone showing solidarity and doing their part meant little to these people.
When someone in the crowd started throwing rocks at the building, I walked on.
Access to the building that I worked in was blocked by another angry mob that surrounded the parliament.
I tried pushing through people, but the moment some of them recognized me, their anger turned on me.
“Traitor!”
I was shoved harshly in the back, which made me almost fall before I regained my balance. There was no reason for me to stay and argue with desperate people. They would take any outlet they could get and for years I’d been the symbol of wealth and power in this country.
Ducking my head, I moved on and ignored the people painting angry messages on the walls of a building. Except for the usual pushing and shoving in a crowd, I got through to the environmental department where I worked.
Most of my colleagues were gathered in the entry hall in front of a large screen that showed the News.
Seeing Celeste standing on the side of the thirty people gathered, I walked to her. “Hey.”
Celeste gave me a sideways glance. “He finally declared a state of emergency.”
“Who, Joseph?”
“Yes. He’s threatening to cut off the air supply on the subterranean levels if they don’t go back to work.” Celeste shook her head. “It’s inhumane.”
My face twisted into a grimace. “We would die down there without air.”
Celeste closed her eyes for a second. “Don’t remind me that you live in that awful apartment. I have nightmares about it.”
We stood for a moment listening to the woman on the News who was reporting from the streets with the angry mob behind her.
“People are demanding equal rights and pay. I’ve spoken to many here and they are all saying that they will keep fighting until they get apartments above ground and decent wages.”
