Lifer (16 page)

“Thirty minutes,” he calls out. “Don’t be late.”

I hold my head a little higher when the elevator’s doors close and I’m finally alone. The isolation of sleeping in Samuai’s bed is different. Made worse by being surrounded by his family. At least on the Lifer levels my thoughts are my own as long as I’m not working. Thirty whole minutes of freedom before I have to meet Davyd and return to the upper level. I’m going to use them.

The Farm level’s two floors below.

The door opens on a small hallway. The solid white walls here were built only two years ago when those above complained the smell drifted to the upper levels through the elevator shaft. It required the destruction of two farm buildings but the Fishies didn’t care.

Following protocol, I wait for the doors to close before sliding open the first and then the second heavy door leading to the farm.

Animal poop, fertilizer, and beneath it all, one of my favorite smells—soil—hits me first. Father always said Zed and I were made to be farmers. From the time we could talk we’d beg to leave the care center where an older Lifer looked after the ship’s children and go with our parents to the farm.

Here, there’s warmth, damp, and relaxed activity. Nothing happens quickly. The timescale of crop production and animal maturity are lightning compared to back on Earth, but still happen over weeks and months. While the components of the Pelican were being built and sent into space to be put together in pieces like a massive 3D puzzle, scientists designed a self-sufficient farming system to feed the travelers in the available cramped space.

To get to the tanks where Mother works her shift, I need to cross the wheat belt. It was one of my favorite parts of Farm visits when I was a child. The compact fields perch on a huge conveyer belt at about head height, moving the crop through the conditions required for optimum growth and eventually through the stationary harvester.

Paths across the moving belt divide the fields to allow access to the rest of the farm. It only takes a few minutes to go around but Zed and I used to cut across. Now, I walk along the edge of the belt to a set of stationary stairs. At the top, I wait for the belt of wheat to move past, the golden plants wobbling gently. A path approaches. When it aligns, I take a breath and step on. The belt moves slowly but enough to make the ground unstable beneath my feet. With the memory of my brother’s dares, I run along the path, determined to get to the other side before it aligns with a matching set of stairs on the other side.

Each slap of my slippers on the path echoes through the huge space, the biggest open area on board. Warmth from the lights above play the part of the sun and heats my skin. The spray of water from the spring that lies ahead hits my skin. An older Lifer looks up from her work at the laden fruit vines growing along the side of the belt and flashes a grin.

I leap off the other side, beating the stairs by less than a foot, and roll to avoid slamming into one of the rabbit pens on the other side.

“Still playing that game, are you?” It’s Mother. If I didn’t know better I would swear there’s a sheen in her eyes.

“Zed loved the belt run,” I say.

“He landed a little better, I think.”

I laugh. “You weren’t here the time he snapped one of the pen railings with his butt.”

She joins me in laughter but it quickly fades. There’s a lump in my throat and the pain of loss makes it hard to remember the joy with which Zed embraced everything he did. I squeeze my aching eyes shut. A Lifer stays in control; it’s one of our few defenses. When a Fishie can switch you off at will, it’s better to be able to keep your temper.

Mother’s strong arms encircle me and she pulls me against her chest. I allow my head to rest on her shoulder.

“He’d be proud,” she whispers, her hand brushing over my short hair and rubbing my back. She’s talking about my part in warning the rebellion and gathering information, but I want to believe she means finding the strength to run across the wheat belt like my brother loved.

My control returns when I force myself to pull away. I glance around the farm area but the other Lifers are deliberately looking the away. A sixteen-year-old getting a hug from her mother isn’t normal in the Lifer world, but neither are the losses our family’s had to bear. Mother’s respected and they allow us space.

We walk together to the tanks. She checks the temperature gauge and prepares the feeding pellets. I watch the plump catfish swim around and around and around.

“Is everything okay on the Fishie level?” she asks.

Her intense look implies caution. We know they’ve planted one listening device. There could be more. I nod.

“Can you help with the feed?” Mother asks.

The food pellet ricochet down into the catfish tanks gives us a few precious seconds of cover.

“We’ve been using the listening devices,” she whispers. “Playing with false information and observing their response.”

“So you haven’t missed me?” I go for light but there’s hurt underlying everything.

Mother’s hand shoots out and cups my cheek. “I’ve missed you,” she says with a fierceness that takes my breath. “Never doubt it.”

“Yes Mother,” I say with a mock salute, but the silliness keeps me from breaking down here where anyone could see me.

I relay what I can about the intercom system and the general layout above. The panel by each door sparks her interest, but I want to get to the decision that’s kept me awake at night. “I’m going for the Control Room,” I say finally.

“Why?”

Lady’s suspicions about Samuai’s and Zed’s deaths are too painful to explain right now. “To get the Remote.” Getting hold of that which could kill any of us in a heartbeat would change everything.

Mother’s brows meet in the center of a forehead with more lines than I remember. “You’ll be killed.”

“I have a plan.”

“What?”

“Lady is helping me.”

The feed chutes jerk under her hands. “Don’t trust her.”

Does she think I’m stupid? Probably. Sometimes I fear I’ll always be five in my mother’s eyes, the age I first questioned the point of the training rooms. All the other kids in the care center couldn’t wait to be old enough to get in there.

“I wouldn’t tell her about the rebellion.” I keep my frustration from my voice.

“Don’t talk to her at all.”

I say nothing. We both know in my position that’s impossible.

Mother gracefully backs down, eventually meeting my gaze. “I’m sorry, Asher. She brings out the worst in me.”

“Why?”

Mother finishes the first tank and we move together to the second. A flick of her wrist opens the chute to drop pellets into the tank. In the water below, large whiskered fish circle hungrily.

She sighs. “Fishie and Lifer kids have always trained together. Lady and I both excelled.”

I’m not surprised about Mother. She’s steely. I wouldn’t mess with her, but Lady? “She’s soft.”

“Don’t let appearances fool you. There’s a fighter in there.”

My Mother’s strong and competitive. She wouldn’t have liked being beaten by a Fishie, particularly not one like Lady. “You were enemies.”

She sighs and shakes her head slowly. “No. Best friends.”

This is like one of the puzzles Zed and I had in the care center when we were little, where you shake the board and a different picture comes out every time.

“Best friends?” I repeat.

“Inseparable.”

Mother and Lady? I picture the two of them together and the image hurts my brain. “What happened?”

Mother’s smile is tight. “What always happens between girls? A boy.”

“Father?”

“No.”

My head snaps around. “
Huckle
?”

She shudders. “God, no.”

I’m relieved. It’s odd enough thinking about Mother being interested in someone other than Father without it being someone so creepy. Mentally I flick through the similarly-aged men on board. They’re limited but I come up blank. I can’t imagine Mother in love with any of them.

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She concentrates hard on checking the temperature and fish numbers in the next tank. I swear her cheeks are pinker than usual. “Lady might have talked about equality and eternal friendship, but we’re Fishie and Lifer. Something was always going to come between us.”

No. My heart cries out in denial. The situation sounds all too familiar. No wonder Mother never approved of my friendship with Samuai. But Samuai wasn’t Lady and I’m not my mother.

“We would have made it.”

Mother doesn’t argue, but she doesn’t agree. “The woman has no love in her for us or ours. Be very careful.”

“Is there any other way to be?”

We finish the chore in silence and my visiting time passes far too fast. I touch her arm. “I’d better go.”

“My shift’s finished. I’ll go with you as far as the training level, if you like.”

“Please.”

I’m happy to have a few more minutes with her. Unspoken between us is the danger of the upper levels. I don’t know when I’ll attempt the Control Room. Despite Davyd’s promise of aid, there’s the chance I’ll be discovered there and killed. Could Mother survive another loss? It’s a question I never want to find out the answer to. I shut the lid on the pellet store. “Let’s go.”

“I need to scan out first.”

“I’ll meet you at the doors.”

As I walk past one of the pens for the giant rabbits, a pink nose pokes over the top of the waist-high fence. I absently brush the animal’s warm head as it nuzzles my thigh through the wire. When he was seven, Zed became convinced he’d tamed one of the babies and it would let him ride on its back. When he tried to show Mother, the mischievous rabbit dumped him in the water trough.

It’s hard being down here without thinking of Zed.

His mysterious death shadows the happy memories. What’s a training accident, anyway? The report Mother stole stated that something went wrong with the oxygen, then the gravity, and both boys were crushed. But what were they doing there together? Samuai didn’t seek extra fights, and he would never fight someone so much smaller. Would he?

My heart isn’t up to a dash across the wheat belt this time. Like the boring grownups Zed scorned and will never become, I wait for the path to align with a set of stairs and step off. I stand at the doors, waiting while Mother crosses.

The present I stole for Kaih weighs down my pocket. If she’s not in the training rooms when I pass, I’ll miss my opportunity. If I’m caught in the Control Room I might never have another.

I use the time I’m waiting to scan the whole of the Farm, but no bright splash of yellow breaks the monotony. The area’s designed so that the animal pens are grouped together and the sheds ring the walls. A bright yellow crop of flowers would be impossible to hide.

Maybe Mother can answer where Lady gets getting them.

“Are there any flowers grown down here?” I ask while we’re waiting for the elevator, my hand strays to my pocket and what I’ve hidden there.

“Why?”

“No reason.”

She doesn’t buy my attempt at casual, but she doesn’t press. I hope she trusts that when I have something worth sharing I will. Her hand waves toward the area set aside for the specially engineered fruit plants. “There’s blossom on the apple bushes.”

“Nice.”

The elevator arrives and prevents further questions.

I hate keeping secrets from Mother, but I’m doing the best I can for Zed, the rebellion, and of course Samuai.

We reach the training levels far too quickly. A part of me wants to cling to Mother and beg her to take some of the burden, but she’s taught me too well. As we move through the hallway, our progress slows and I wonder whether I’m the only one in no hurry to part. It can’t be easy for Mother all alone trying to lead a rebellion.

I spot Kaih coming out of the training rooms. Sweat shines on her face beneath the lights and her cheeks are flushed from exertion. Her smile widens when she sees me. “Asher.” Her pace picks up to a run.

She embraces me, sweat and all. And I cling on. Happy, easy to understand Kaih, who I’ve brushed off whenever she’s tried to talk. Until now. Another Lifer stops Mother to chat and Davyd isn’t by the lifts yet.

I grab Kaih’s slender hand and tug her closer to the wall. “I brought you a present,” I whisper. With a glance around to make sure no one’s paying us attention, I reach into my pocket and pull out the yellow blob of sunshine.

“A flower?” Her eyes widen and light up.

“From Lady. Keep it hidden.”

She pushes it back into my hands. “If you’re caught you’ll get in trouble.”

“No one will notice.” I hope.

Kaih traces each petal with the most reverent of touches. “It’s so soft.” There’s awe in her voice.

Kaih’s delight makes stealing the flower worth it. It warms the inside of my heart where the darkness has lingered these past few weeks.

“Asher.” Davyd’s commanding voice carries along the hallway.

“Time to go,” I say to Kaih.

She nods, tucking the flower into her pocket, holding the treasure I gave her close.

Mother catches my hand as I pass her on my way to where Davyd waits. The squeeze she gives me says everything. I want another hug but I refuse to show such weakness here. “Bye Mother.” I squeeze back and then let go.

“Take care,” she says to my back. Two simple words but I hear so much more.

Be safe. You don’t need to risk the Control Room. I’m proud of you. I love you
.

Davyd’s silent in the elevator. I expected some caustic comment on my friend or family and when it doesn’t happen, I study his face for a reason. He seems distracted, but beyond that I have no idea.

Just before we enter his family’s quarters, he stops me with a touch on my shoulder, but stares ahead at the door. “If you’re staying up here for a while, you will need to familiarize yourself with the clean room next to the kitchen.”

“Clean room?” Is this a cover story to get me to the Control Room? Except he means inside the apartment.

His nose crinkles and he clears his throat. “Standards are different up here.”

I copy him, sniffing and get a whiff of the terrible smell in the Lifer quarters. “I get it,” I mutter. Davyd’s trying to tell me I reek and he’s almost being diplomatic about it. Somehow it makes the whole thing worse.