Four days to NovaTopia

This is the longest time I've ever been around General Caelum. Aside from her looks, I hate everything else about her. The way she avoids me, as if I'm the filth on the street she needs to hurry past. Her pompous demeanor, as if she is too good for this place. And worst of all, the way she talks to Lara.

I don't know how she did it, but she definitely manipulated Lara into working extra hard and wearing that stupid rule bot all the time like a prisoner. And for what? Lara is already a hard worker and a rule follower by nature. She didn't need to be pushed further like that.

Lara's stress from General Caelum was so obvious, too. I could tell when General Caelum had checked in on her—and dangled her sponsorship in front of her—because Lara would be overly hard on herself. As the Selection neared, she became more and more on edge, lashing out at herself over the smallest mistakes.

Only after leaving the Tower and being away from the pressures of the Selection did Lara feel like herself again. I still remember her serene smile while we were on Devon's bed. I've never seen her so relaxed.

That's the Lara I like, not the one that General Caelum brings out.

I follow the general to her living unit. The door slides open, and my jaw drops.

I thought General Lorensky's living unit was impressive, with so much space and a breathtaking view from his floor-to-ceiling windows. But General Caelum's is that and more. The furniture looks expensive and bespoke, and lavish artwork and pieces adorns the walls, ceiling, and shelves. In the living room, there is a large screen across from two armchairs, flanked by rows of weapons. Imposing, unused weapons.

General Caelum takes a seat in one of the chairs.

"Don't sit," she tells me.

I wasn't going to, but being told not to—so typical of her—only infuriates me more.

"Why did you bring me here, General?" It takes every bit of my willpower to ask my question without sounding snide.

Leaning back, she scrutinizes me with a mix of curiosity and disgust. Her auburn hair, long and wavy, drapes over the back of her armchair like a fiery waterfall. I really do hate everything else about her, aside from her looks.

"I want to tell you a story." She flicks her hand. The screen in the room lights up. "Pull up the 'NovaTopia' photo album," she instructs, and an image appears.

It's a photo of a toddler sitting on a marble floor, surrounded by toys. Their hair is so light it practically blends with their skin. Behind the toddler, a large window looks out into a garden brimming with greenery and flowers. This looks like a palace in the most well-maintained regions of Ground Earth.

"I was three," General Caelum explains. "This is the living unit I grew up in."

She flicks her hand again. The screen shows a young child now, with a slightly closer resemblance to her. Younger General Caelum wears a toothy grin—so wide and full of joy—while holding onto a backpack. She's on a cobbled street that looks like the streets on Ground Earth, except it's cleaner, shinier, and more brightly lit. The cobblestones have a rustic charm, but they also somehow feel... too perfect. Too flawlessly constructed. Behind her, there are a few more parents with their children. Everyone is smiling and laughing.

"This was me on my first day of school. A well-rounded education is very valued in NovaTopia, so the teachers were great, and there's a lot of support. I have nothing but good memories."

I've seen NovaTopia in the videos they show in cadet class and during the Selection, but I've always thought its portrayed beauty was exaggerated. These two photos are enough to prove that NovaTopia is that beautiful.

If Lara thought that Ground Earth was beautiful because of all the colors and greenery, she would love NovaTopia. It looks like an... upgraded Ground Earth. Nothing like the monotonous Tower at all.

The next image of the photo album is of a teenager, where the resemblance to General Caelum is finally clear. She is up in the air, hitting a ball; her auburn ponytail dances in the wind.

"I soon found out I excel in all physical tests. This was me playing volleyball, a sport I loved, and I even became the team captain of that year. I was having so much fun. I thought it was just about having fun." Her voice quivers. She pauses for a moment. "It turns out my parents knew I was strong and were subtly steering me to lean into that trait. All so I could be recruited for a career that would not only pay off my capacity tax, but my future siblings' too."

I glance at her, shocked by that revelation. Her eyes are glued to the screen, but I can see a glistening shimmer in them.

"So, I began training as a soldier." General Caelum flicks her hand one last time—the smallest gesture so far. The image is now of an adult General Caelum in a familiar NovaTopian uniform. She has her hair down, like how she's wearing it now, and her eyes are no longer bright and hopeful, like how she is now too.

"This is me at twenty-four, just graduated from my cadet training at NovaTopia and getting ready to come down here. I chose to serve at the Tower because it has the lowest service requirement, and I would be able to go back to NovaTopia early and live out a debt-free life." Her jaw muscle twitches. "A... mistake set me back and I am here much longer than I expected. But no matter. I just need to send one last candidate to NovaTopia to finally complete my quota. The Board of Directors loves Lara. They think she is a real star who will bring much-needed qualities to NovaTopia. So once they get Lara, I can finally go back too. After twenty-two long years."

She waves her hand, and the screen darkens. The rest of the room lights back up—I didn't even realize they were dimmed for the slideshow—and the rows of weapons around the screen appear more menacing than ever.

General Caelum leans back in her armchair. "I have no more photos beyond that, because anything after that is not worth remembering. NovaTopia is worth remembering; this depressing hellhole of a Tower is not. Every so often, whenever I cannot sleep at night, I will flip through this photo album. It reminds me of what I'm working towards. Gives me something to look forward to. Motivation to keep on living."

I knew General Caelum had been using Lara. She only cares about returning to NovaTopia, and getting Lara there is a mere step towards achieving that. But the slideshow confirms that the famous utopian shuttle really is an amazing place to live. A place so amazing that it makes General Caelum this desperate to return.

She turns to me. Her eyes look... lifeless. An empty void. "So, what do you think of NovaTopia now?"

There is a challenging tone in her voice. I finally understand why General Caelum showed me these photos. She was trying to see if they would sway me in my decision to help Lara, but I am adamant—more adamant than ever—that Lara deserves to go. I can already imagine the bright-eyed wonder in those honey brown eyes, the same one I saw when we went to Ground Earth together. I wanted that feeling to last forever.

"It's perfect for Lara," I say.

"Good. I presume you are still determined to help me find her, then?"

"Yes, General."

She nods. "Here is what I will do. I will erase all records of Lara taking the elevator down. I will also release everyone else from detention. They can go on with becoming soldiers or boarding their spaceships or whatever it is they will do. Meanwhile, I will tell NovaTopia that Lara is a sentimental person with many friends, so she will need a few more days to say her goodbyes before she boards her ship. As for you, you can come up with your own excuse to the NRS why you're not boarding your ship yet.

"I will give you five days maximum. That is the longest I can confidently convince NovaTopia on my end. If you do a good job and get Lara back sooner, I'll consider helping you with your Tower records too. So, you should not only remember what you will get for Lara but also for yourself." She pauses and smirks at me. "And a future with Lara, perhaps. Transferring shuttles is much easier than ascending to one from the Tower, you know?"

A future with Lara.

That line stirs up something in my heart I've never felt before. A fuzzy warmth among aching pain. I gulp down the lump in my throat. "I understand, General. I- I will bring her back."

"So, what's your plan for finding her?"

"Uh..." I try to think of some ideas on the spot. "Lara shouldn't be too familiar with Ground Earth, so I'll check some of the easy spots, like bars, motels, or shops near the Tower. Um, I'll also visit the places we went together on Ground Earth."

General Caelum rolls her eyes and sighs. "At least there's a semblance of a plan. When General Lorensky gets back, I will make him join you to speed up the process. You two seem to work well together."

She snaps her finger and a small bot rolls over to her. Reaching into it, she takes out a small device.

"Use this communication device to give me updates every night," she says. "I need to know about the places you went and any leads you found."

As she hands it to me, I notice how it's similar to the device General Lorensky gave Lara and me on our trip down to Ground Earth, except this one looks much more sophisticated. It even feels more pleasant on my hands, with a smoother surface and a button that blends seamlessly into the device. General Lorensky's device is like an early prototype, while General Caelum's is the polished final version.

"Yes, General."

"Now get out of my living unit."

I bite back the curse I so wanted to snap at her and pocket the device. General Caelum calls it a communication device, but knowing her distrust of me, I bet it also has a tracking function.

I hate that I'm helping her, but I have to remember it's temporary, and that it's for Lara. It's for bringing her back to the fate she deserves.

As I step out of the living unit, I turn and catch a glimpse of General Caelum. She is staring at the screen again; the same slideshow is on display. The longing in her eyes is filled with so much agony. So much desperation.

I feel a tug at my heart. Then, the door shuts, and I am left with nothing but a hollow stretch of white.