Martin Young remains silent for several long seconds. I hold his gaze the entire time, feeling increasingly resigned.

  After what I just said, I can hardly expect anything good.

  At last, the captain averts his eyes and, among my personal belongings laid out before him, picks up the watch.

  “Why is this in such a state?” he asks, referring to the damage the device has sustained.

  Not quite the response I had expected.

  “That’s where the lightning struck me,” I explain anyway, since I have no reason not to. “So it melted.”

  “We had it analysed,” the man replies. “And the damage was found to be consistent with that caused by a powerful ilectron—comparable, even, to a lightning bolt.”

  I blink, surprised.

  Where is he going with this?

  “And this?” Martin Young asks, pointing to the phone.

  “It’s a tool for… well, you can do a lot of things with it, on Earth,” I reply. “But here it doesn’t work… or at least, it doesn’t let me use its full potential. Still, I can show—”

  “That won’t be necessary, for now.”

  The captain cuts me off, clearly unwilling to let me ramble on.

  “Every item of yours has been thoroughly examined,” he states instead. “Their construction techniques are, in some cases… beyond the reach of even the best artificers.”

  Martin Young turns to the mirror on the wall and gestures towards it. The door nearest to him opens, and a man in a white coat enters the interrogation room: it’s Archeos.

  “But…?” I say in surprise.

  “Archeos,” says the captain. “Would you repeat what you told me just now?”

  “Of course,” the philosopher nods, turning his gaze on me. “Ethan possesses knowledge which—though imprecise due to an incomplete education—falls outside the scope of what is known to the people of Maltia. In fact, I even find it hard to believe some of it could be found in the neighbouring states. On the other hand, he is entirely uninformed about everything concerning Maltian politics, society, and culture, mayea, and a significant amount of common technologies. His language and thinking differ from those of a Maltian citizen, and he even lacks the most basic knowledge about the world. These observations, combined with the fact that he was in possession of the instruments now laid out on the table, suggest that he is a foreigner from a place very far away… and potentially even different from Tersain.”

  My breath catches for a moment at those final words.

  … huh?

  “With that we don’t mean to say we believe your globe-world story,” the captain clarifies, his eyes fixed on mine. “However, one thing is certain. Archeos…”

  “Many of the notions you explained to me have proven valid,” the philosopher continues, now addressing me directly. “Following your instructions, one of our laboratories has produced smokeless powder and iron of fire. I’ve also just learnt that there’s been a slight improvement in the condition of the man suffering from tetanos… the one we treated with the antibiotic obtained thanks to your guidance. Likewise, the other experiments based on your statements have, for the most part, yielded positive results. This has brought the Resistance knowledge that is out of the ordinary—and potentially of great strategic importance in the fight against the Republic.”

  “Therefore,” says Martin Young, “we consider you useful to the Resistance, and in some way harmless. You will be granted greater freedom aboard the Epos, which you may not, however, leave.”

  … greater freedom…?

  “You will remain under surveillance, though less strictly than before, but you will no longer have to stay in your cell.”

  … I will no longer have to…?

  “All of this on the condition that you continue to contribute to the advancement of our knowledge, under the supervision of Aimond Lacelet here present.”

  I am speechless. My mouth has fallen helplessly open in shock at such statements.

  So… that speech of his at the beginning was just an act… a test, to be sure I wouldn’t crack under pressure and confess to being a spy?

  Martin Young pushes the phone and the rest of my personal items towards me.

  “We’re granting you partial trust, even though you remain under suspicion,” he says. “You are not to attempt to contact anyone outside this airship without my prior authorisation… and for now, I won’t be granting any such permission.”

  I take my belongings with unsteady hands. I check the phone’s battery, and to my dismay, find it’s almost completely drained.

  I had turned it off, but now it’s on. They must have fiddled with it quite a bit trying to figure out how it works.

  I didn’t tell them it was meant for long-distance communication. Good thing, too—otherwise, it probably wouldn’t have been returned to me.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Still… damn… at least I’ve managed to convince them I’m not involved in their conflict.

  An unreal sense of relief—or rather, a release from the tension I’ve carried up until now—slowly starts to take hold of me. A part of me finds it hard to believe. And yet…

  “Archeos, would you show him to his cabin?” asks Captain Young.

  … I’ll have a cabin of my own?

  The natural philosopher nods and comes over to me.

  “Come, Ethan,” he says.

  With clumsy, mechanical movements, I hastily gather my belongings and follow Aimond Lacelet out of the room. Just for a moment, right before stepping out, I glance sideways at the captain.

  Should I thank him? I wonder.

  A moment later, I decide to spare myself the trouble—for now, at least. After all, it wasn’t exactly a favour he did me.

  “You made it, Ethan,” declares the philosopher once we’re out in the corridor. “The worst is behind you now.”

  “Is it?” I hesitate, as we head towards a lift. “But I’m still a suspect.”

  “We’re not going to change our minds all of a sudden,” the man replies. “Do your part, and you’ll see—we’ll come to trust you more.”

  “But… can I really help here?” I ask. “Even you said it: my knowledge, in the end, isn’t that of a specialist—just the basics I learnt at school.”

  “That alone is enough,” answers Archeos. “If nothing else, you can point us in the right direction. You might save some of our lives, with that business about the antibiotic, you know?”

  Hearing that makes me feel oddly pleased. Strange—I hadn’t expected the thought of having done something good for someone else to make me feel this way.

  Still… I mustn’t lose sight of my situation. I’m far from Earth, with no idea how to get back. And the biggest question remains: how could that lightning bolt have brought me here? Assuming it really was the lightning that did it…

  “When I’ve convinced you that I don’t belong to Tersain… will you help me get home?”

  I don’t even know why I ask. Maybe I just need to feel like someone’s on my side. I don’t actually believe they can help me: I’m starting to accept more and more that I may never return to Earth.

  “If it turns out you really do come from a different world, then I’d be very interested in helping you,” Archeos nods. “Even if it doesn’t strictly concern natural philosophers, it might be another piece of the puzzle that brings us closer to understanding the Star Prophets.”

  “The… what?”

  “Never mind, for now,” the man says. “Before that, there are plenty of more concrete things you need to know. As far as I’m concerned, since I don’t believe you truly come from another world, I see you as a foreigner who’s been affected by a mayea or a wound severe enough to scramble your memories. Judging by the marks on your body and your belongings, it’s even plausible that you were genuinely struck by lightning. Whatever the cause of your partial amnesia, I’ll make it my task to teach you from scratch how Tersain works—and especially Maltia… oh, and I’ll also have to explain properly what life on board the Epos is like.”

  The philosopher leads me to the part of the ship reserved for living quarters. There, he reaches one door among many and says:

  “This is your room. It’s directly opposite mine.”

  I hadn’t even recognised the place… how will I ever find my way back here?

  He opens the door, showing me the inside. The narrow cabin isn’t much different from Archeos’s room, though the shelves are completely empty, there’s only one chair, and no carpet.

  “In the wardrobe, you’ll find a change of clothes and some essential items,” the philosopher informs me, handing me a key. “The bathrooms are at the end of the corridor. Water is rationed, so make sure to use it sparingly. We can’t afford many luxuries aboard the Epos.”

  Once I’ve left my belongings in the room and changed into the clothes returned to me by the captain, Archeos takes me to the mess hall. Here, I’m able to eat much as I did when I was staying at Dawn’s house. I miss the meals from my own world, but even this is better than what I had while I was locked in a cell.

  Naturally, I steer clear of the dehumidified sticks as much as I can.

  “A pity the wine supplies have run out,” the philosopher laments.

  Dawn spoke to me about wine too… it must be a very important beverage in this nation.

  By now, I’ve grown used to Tersain’s food customs, including their, to my mind, bizarre mealtimes. It’s also clear to me that the use of cutlery never became part of this people’s culture. What I don’t know is what they eat in places where supplies are more readily available—I find it hard to believe that long-life food is the standard even on inhabited fragments.

  As we eat, Archeos tells me the history of Maltia. To keep it brief, it’s an oligarchic republic spread across a great number of islands. It’s been around for 47 years, ever since the patricians—nobles of the former, democratically-run Maltian Republic—took power in a coup. Since then, the patricians have gained full control of Maltia, exercised through the Dodecagon, a council of twelve representatives elected by the nobles and endowed with absolute power.

  The people weren’t pleased with this turn of events, but thanks to the patricians’ alliance with the Aeronautical Army, the new republic managed to stabilise without much difficulty. Even so, the tenacity of certain citizens led to outright uprisings, which in turn fuelled a rise in piracy and the formation of rebel and anarchist groups.

  Over the years, many of those enemies of the state have been crushed. However, a ruthless struggle continues between the Republic and the remaining organised rebel groups, collectively known as the Resistance.

  “The Dodecagon—or Dodecagonal Council—works in close cooperation with the army, which carries out its orders even though, in theory, it should be able to act independently,” the philosopher concludes. “This gives the Republic great strength. For us in the Resistance, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to act, especially as the free zones continue to shrink. The greatest problem is the fact that the Republic is developing its technologies at full speed. That’s why you’re so useful to us: you can provide knowledge to help counter the advances of our opponents.”

  “What are you aiming for?” I ask. “To overthrow the Council… and then what?”

  “To restore the democratic republic,” replies the philosopher.

  “Is oligarchy really that awful?”

  “The Council is like an insult to the people’s freedom,” says Archeos. “In many ways, it’s a matter of principle. But the worst part is how the patricians control the resources, allowing themselves lives of ease and debauchery at the expense of ordinary citizens. They hold all the power, and it causes no small hardship to the people—who, indeed, support us… especially those who remember what life was like before the coup.”

  “So Cyrus Sanders is a member of the Resistance?” I ask.

  “Yes,” the man replies. “A fairly important one… a friend of Captain Young. Let’s say he’s part of the old guard. For some time now, he’s been keeping a low profile. After all, he had to take care of Dawn.”

  “You know Dawn?”

  “Of course—I know the whole Sanders family,” the philosopher nods. “But I hadn’t seen her in years… it was lovely to meet her again, when the captain asked her to speak to me about you.”

  “She’s part of the Resistance too, I take it.”

  “She’ll be a full-fledged member from now on,” Archeos clarifies. “Her brothers, on the other hand, have been active for a few years already. You could say Dawn’s first task was to tell me what she knew about you… ah, and to see whether you had any information about her father.”

  “I see… that’s why she came to visit me in my cell,” I murmur.

  The thought disheartens me a little.

  “Don’t take it the wrong way—she was very worried about being deceptive with you,” the philosopher explains. “But there wasn’t much choice. The captain wanted to understand who you were based on what you told us. Dawn, Jim, myself… we all reported what we’d talked about with you, but you mustn’t think we were being false with you. And in the end, it’s thanks to all that that the captain decided to grant you a bit of trust.”

  To me, it seemed more like the captain needs me.

  I’m about to say that when someone sits down next to me. I turn my head to see who it is… and I’m surprised to recognise Dawn.

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