Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X #1)(24)
Author: Richelle Mead

Her teeth rattled when the plane landed, but it didn’t matter. She was on the ground again, back where she belonged. She’d never fly again if she could help it—unless, of course, she returned home. Maybe she could take a boat.

“Civilian airport,” Justin observed.

Mae heard him as she waited for them near the plane’s exit. “You need to go here to get your visa straightened out—and to get her authorized for chipping.”

Tessa jerked her head toward Justin. “I don’t want a chip.”

She knew about Gemman chipping, of course. It was one of their laws. Citizens were all tagged in their hands, allowing their government to keep track of their every move. Her mother said it was the mark of the beast and a sign of their pact with hell. It had never occurred to Tessa that she would have to get one too. Seeing her panic, Justin told her to worry about it later.

“You have plenty of other things to deal with first,” he said when they were disembarking down the Jetway that led inside the airport. Windows in the tunnel showed a constant flurry of planes landing and taking off. “What’s the biggest number of people you’ve ever been around?”

“I don’t know,” she asked, a little taken aback. “Why do you want to—”

They emerged into the airport, and Tessa came to a halt and even tried to back up. She’d never seen a crowd like the one that faced her now, not even when her family had traveled downtown. She was adrift in a sea of bodies. Men, women, and children of all ages, all of them in motion. And everything was bright. Huge lights in the ceiling bathed everything in a cold, white glow that reflected off the abundance of metal in the room. There were monitors everywhere, thinner and crisper than anything she had ever seen before, with information constantly flashing and scrolling. All those people and machines created a roar of noise that beeped and buzzed so loudly, she could barely hear herself think. The room began to sway, and she couldn’t breathe.

Justin tightened his hold. “Need to sit down?”

Tessa swallowed and shook her head. She could do this. She’d be okay as long as she stayed close to Justin. He wouldn’t let her get lost. She clung to his hand, barely aware as Cornelia Kimora and Francis Kyle made their farewells, with promises to be in touch later. They and the uniformed soldiers soon walked off toward a line with an overhead monitor that read MILITARY/GOVERNMENT. Tessa noticed now that although the room felt chaotic, most of the people were arranged into several similar lines filtering through checkpoints. Each one had a monitor. Directly above her, Tessa saw a sign hanging from the ceiling that read REPUBLIC OF UNITED NORTH AMERICA—CUSTOMS AND IMMIGRATION.

“Well,” said Mae, glancing at her ego, “you’re in my hands now. I’ll get you guys settled in.” She gave Tessa a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Hang in there. I know there’s a lot of new stuff to get used to. You’ll be home soon.”

No, Tessa thought. Home was a very long ways away.

“I think she can deal with the tech better than she can the crowd,” Justin said. “I used to make a lot of jokes about pampered castal girls before I left. Never again. You should see the way the Old Money sequester their women.”

Mae nodded in understanding and pointed. “We’re just going right to that line, Tessa. Straight ahead. Easy.”

Tessa nodded obediently, using Justin for support. They reached a line labeled CITIZENS and came to a halt to wait their turn. Despite standing in the thick of the mob, Tessa felt a little better. The line offered order, and she had Justin and Mae flanking her, creating a sort of protective barrier. She calmed down enough that she was able to study a little of her surroundings. Most of the people she saw had the same plebeian features Justin had, tanned skin and dark hair and eyes. Some of their faces showed a nondescript heritage. Others leaned slightly toward a more dominant gene pool—African, Caucasian, or Asian—but nothing too pronounced. Scattered among them were those who displayed a much more distinct lineage. There were fair-skinned people like Mae and others whose skin was nearly black. Almond eyes, round eyes, blue eyes, brown eyes. And yet, with more study, she could see it wasn’t all so cut-and-dried. She saw tanned skin paired with red or blond hair. Some of it was obviously dyed, but others were harder to deduce. She knew recessive genes could still pop up, even after a few generations of aggressive mixing, but wasn’t sure how to identify whether something was natural or not.

“How can you tell the difference between plebeians and cast—” She caught herself, remembering enough of Gemman history to know the slang terms Justin used weren’t polite in front of someone like Mae. “Er, between plebeians and patricians?”

“The attitude,” said Justin promptly.

Tessa looked back at the crowd, trying to figure out what he meant. All of them seemed purposeful and confident, men and women alike, no matter their physical appearance. No one openly carried weapons, which felt strange, but then, no one appeared as though they were about to start a fight either. Women who looked to be affluent moved around without chaperones, dressed in pants like Mae or short skirts, with hair worn down or up or even cut astonishingly short.

Justin didn’t say anything more about plebeians and patricians, but as they moved forward, he whispered to Tessa, “Pay attention to the screen. You can learn a lot about a person.”

She didn’t know what he meant until they reached the customs agent. Mae immediately set her hand, palm down, on a rectangular glass box. Beside the agent, a large screen suddenly flared to life. There was a head shot of Mae staring straight ahead, with a cool and calm look in her eyes. Beside the picture, in large letters, was her name: Koskinen, Mae Eris. Underneath it, in smaller print, was: Koskinen, Maj Erja (Nordic Patriarchy). Other lines of info detailed Mae’s citizenship, profession, address, age, and more. Tessa couldn’t quite follow it all. There was also a section for general notes. Hers read: Authorization to carry arms.

The agent looked surprised at what popped up and shot her a quick, nervous look. He had a smaller screen in front of him that they couldn’t see, which he began to tap notes on. After a few more seconds, the agent looked back up at Mae. “Do you have weapons to declare?”

Mae removed a gun from her purse and laid it on a nearby table. Then she took out a smaller gun that had been at her waist, hidden by the knee-length jacket she’d put on in the plane. Lastly, she pulled out a knife from her boot.