Lifer (20 page)

My heart’s with Samuai and I don’t need it back.

The day before the ball, I’m serving Lady a glass of iced water when Davyd enters the yellow living room. His usually smooth features are twisted into a frown.

Lady smiles, oblivious. “There you are darling. You must take Asher for her final fitting.”

“She can’t take herself?”

“You know she doesn’t have access to the upper levels to return,” Lady reminds him. “Although I could talk to Huckle about getting that changed.”

Davyd holds up his hand to stop her granting me free run of the ship. “I’ll take her. Now.”

“Yes.” Lady turns her crazy smile toward me. “I can’t wait to see how lovely you’ll look.”

“Thank you,” I mumble. I wonder if there’s talk about Lady including me in the ball. There must be. I bet no one’s questioning her directly. She wears her role as the highest ranking female on board with ease.

I say nothing on the journey down to Manufacturing. Davyd stares at the elevator doors, a faint frown creasing his forehead. It’s strange I’m so caught up in the approaching ball—only because of the Control Room attempt—while Lifers on the lower levels continue the Farm work and cleaning and cooking. I flush. I’ve become about as aware of the ship around me as a Fishie.

The moment we enter the sliding doors, the waiting Fishie girls surround him like disciples.

The air’s filled with the sweet perfumes these girls seem to favor, the cloying scent makes it hard to breathe. I edge away, looking for Kaih, but she’s busy with all the final alterations.

One of the Fishie girls asks to feel Davyd’s bicep and I fight down annoyance. These privileged girls simper like fools. In a few years, he’ll choose one of these pretty idiots for a wife.

He looks at me, over their heads, and there’s amusement in his eyes. It’s like he reads my thoughts. I look away rather than smile back. We’re not partners. He might be helping me get to the Control Room but after that I’ll be on my own. If there’s a way to turn me in without upsetting his mother, I have no doubt he will. He’s not Samuai.

Best that I remember that fact.

“Sorry, Asher.”

It’s Kaih. Her clothes are askew and a smudge of dirt darkens one blond eyebrow. The tablet she records her notes on is covered with sweaty handprints.

“I don’t mind waiting.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not a matter of waiting. I’m not going to get a chance to fit you properly.”

My insistence that I don’t care about what I wear to the ball disappears under a wave of disappointment. Maybe I was looking forward to seeing what magic Kaih could create more than I wanted to admit.

“I understand.”

“I knew you would.” She squeezes my upper arm and then drapes a few scraps of old material over my shoulder and around my hips, taking notes as she moves. The muslin feels too tight and it barely covers me at all. A few seconds of pinning and poking and I’m glad she’s running late. “That’s all I have time for but I’ll get it finished and sent up in time. I promise.”

“Thanks.”

Her fingers on my arm tighten, stopping me. She glances around to see how close any Fishies are. “Your Mother said to tell you to prepare,” she adds. There’s an excited glint in her eye.

To anyone listening, Kaih would appear to be passing on a message about the ball, but I know better. Mother doesn’t care about fancy clothes or fancy food. Her focus is the rebellion.

When? How? A million questions leap to my lips but I don’t speak them aloud. I know Davyd’s watching me because I feel his gray gaze on my skin.

“Will do. The ball is a big event.”

She nods once and picks up a container of pins from the closest table. “Next,” she calls.

Not wanting to add to Kaih’s stress, I cross the room quickly to Davyd’s side. The Fishie girls surrounding him don’t spare me a glance. My mind’s caught on Kaih’s warning. If what she said is true, they’ll have to take notice of Lifers soon.

Davyd’s different. He welcomes me with exaggerated surprise. “That was fast.”

“It’s not like she has much to work with.” I don’t see which of the girls speaks but they all laugh in high-pitched tinkles.

I have more important things on my mind. I simply adopt a demure smile and wait for orders. The image of an obedient servant.

However Davyd isn’t buying my act. “Let’s get you back to work.” He gives the girls a full-watt grin. “Looking forward to seeing you all dressed up.”

They sigh as we walk to the doors. Pity mingles with scorn. Can’t they hear the sarcasm in his voice?

Maybe you know Davyd better than all of them.

I ignore the voice in my head. All I want is to use Davyd to get to the Control Room. Zed and Samuai are the only boys I care about.

Kaih’s message replays in my mind. What did Mother mean by prepare anyway? That I should be ready to fight Davyd and his family when the time comes?

I have no problem turning on Huckle, but the others? No, it won’t come to that.

The rebellion’s been in the planning stage for so long I can’t believe it’s nearly here. I wish I knew more of the details. The Fishies won’t cede control of the ship without a fight. The prospect of freedom and equality has a bitter edge. I thought Mother would wait for me get to the Control Room and locate the Remote Device rather than push ahead. Like always, she’s assuming I don’t have the courage to succeed. Or worse.

The thud of the machines around us matches the rhythmic thud of my heart. Maybe it’s not too late. I’ll get the intelligence she needs tomorrow night at the ball and prove her wrong. Surely the rebellion won’t happen before then. With new purpose in my stride I reach the lifts ahead of Davyd.

“Why were you so fast?” he asks again while we wait.

“Not much to work with.” I do my best imitation of a Fishie girl.

His gaze flicks over my body. When it meets mine again there’s appreciation there that makes me look away. “You’re different than of them.”

“Really?” The line is smooth and I have to force myself not to roll my eyes.

“You know I don’t like soft girls.”

“I don’t care what kind of girls you like,” I say with a sugary smile. But pleasure at his implied compliment spreads through me like the warm honey Lady adds to her cereal.

He ignores my words. “They’re all going to hate you even more when you show up on my arm tomorrow night.”

The thought of walking in at Davyd’s side and seeing their faces is far too appealing. “I thought Lady—” I trail into silence because he’s grinning that satisfied grin. He never actually said whose idea the whole me-going-to-the-ball thing was. “This was your idea?”

“The important thing is Mother thinks it was her idea and she was the one who convinced Huckle.”

It makes sense. He promised he’d get me to the Control Room and there’s no better time than when his colleagues are distracted by a party. It’s brilliant and bold and he’s made it look like he’s simply fulfilling his mad mother’s whim. Except…

“How?”

He blinks. “You’ll see.”

“I’ll be seen. Everyone will be watching me. Lifers at the ball aren’t a common occurrence.”

I’ve given him pause, but then his assured grin slips back into place. “You’re imagining some fairytale ball. The reality’s a lot more sordid. Beyond the initial stir of you being there, those people will be far too interested in themselves to notice what happens to you.”

Is there a threat in his reminder of my place in this world?

I need to remember how clever an opponent he is for the day when our goals no longer align.

[Blank]

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Keane growls the question. His fists are clenched as he stalks around the station’s big open kitchen. The lights hanging above chase the echoing cavern back into the tunnels that lead off in every direction. His glare swings from me, where I sit on a chair, to Megs who leans against the long bench. “He’s mental, but you? I thought you had a brain.”

She shrugs, unperturbed by his anger. “I thought it was a good idea at the time.”

He turns back to me. “Why?”

It’s a good question. “The girl didn’t seem so bad.” The explanation’s lame, and I know it, but I can’t find the right words. Something in me couldn’t walk away.

Keane jabs my arm, just below the tape the medics put on my strained shoulders when we made it back to the station. His finger strikes the telltale green mark of a Q hit. “Was it before or after she tried to kill you that you decided she
wasn’t so bad
?”

His imitation of my accent at the end gets me on my feet. “Would you have let her fall?”

Keane turns away. “She’s the enemy.”

“
Your
enemy.” The words I don’t say hover over us: Not mine.

Megs’ eyes shutter but not in time to hide the hurt I’ve caused. Keane shakes his head as though I’m a lost cause.

I rub at my aching shoulders. “Look, I don’t like what I’ve seen of the Company but I couldn’t leave a young girl to die.” No one says anything and I stand in front of Megs, waiting until she meets my gaze. “You were there. You helped. Don’t make this out like it was something I did against your cause.”

Megs sighs, and looks to Keane. “She was just a kid.”

He pulls up a chair and collapses into it. “You’re right. When we become the kind of people who’ll let an unarmed kid fall to her death we might as well hand the city over to the CEO.”

It’s as close as I’m going to get to an apology.

Something’s been playing on my mind. “They’re in trouble if that girl’s a sample of their defense against the aliens.”

Keane’s head jerks up. “I told you. There are no aliens. And as long as they have the Q they keep us in check.”

“But why keep up the pretense of an alien attack for all these years?”

“I don’t know. To scare people into joining their city.”

Since I don’t have any better ideas, I shut my mouth but it adds to the list of questions building in my mind. Only I doubt getting my memories back will help.

No one speaks much as we help ourselves to the pot of stew left warming on the stove. The painkillers the medic gave me for the cuts and scrapes are making the high corners of the room become fuzzy. My stomach revolts at the smell of the rich, creamy gravy, but once I force a mouthful down I realize I’m starving. I clean the plate, mopping up the remnants with some bread.

Megs and Keane eat as heartily.

While we eat a few others enter and take seats on the other side of the room. One is Gan’s, from the gaming bar, familiar face.

Megs sees me looking. “He passes through sometimes,” she says. “And gives us work when he can.”

A few people I don’t recognize grab food but they sit at the other end of the room, leaving us in privacy. Nothing important is said.

The rest of the day is for recovery. We don’t speak much about what happened on the cliff. I don’t know what to make of Megs sticking by me when she made it clear she doesn’t trust me with the rebellion’s secrets. I’m too wimpy to ask her.

I sleep some, and go with Megs to visit Janic. There’s no change in his condition. Standing at the foot of the bed, I again imagine Megs in his place. The chills racing across my skin aren’t from the painkillers.

Keane doesn’t ask for my decision but the pressure to decide is immense. A few times I catch Megs looking at me with a question in her sad green eyes but she doesn’t put it into words.

I try not to think about what might happen if I say no to the procedure and even less about the ramifications of saying yes.

Even though Megs stays with me through the night, I don’t sleep much. She keeps her distance so there’s no chance of waking with her in my arms. Part of me would prefer she begged me to let Keane mess with my mind. It would be better than the awkward silences between us where before we got along so well.

Early the next morning, Keane stops us in the hallway after breakfast. “You’ve had a chance to recover,” he begins, looking at me.

This is it, decision time. I wonder if he’s the procedure ready to go or if I’ll have to dread it for a few more hours. I wonder whether it will hurt.

“Wait,” says Megs before I can answer. “You saw New City yesterday. Before you decide, you need to see our city.” She turns to Keane, bright for the first time since we returned from trying to save the Company girl. “I’ll have him back soon.”

Keane flashes a rare smile. It’s because of Megs; when she’s happy, her spirit’s infectious. He waves us away. “Don’t be too long.” His gaze fixes on me. Heavy. Demanding. “But every day the Company gets stronger and more people go to New City and never come back. I need your decision today.”

I nod, faking confidence. “When we return.” Deep down, my decision was made the moment I set out to find answers, maybe when I awoke in that garden.

Do whatever it takes
.

But I want to put off the possible brain damage for a little longer. The chance to go somewhere with Megs seals the deal. She takes my hand.

I tamp the familiar guilt down and enjoy her touch. Soon enough I’ll know why I feel bad every time I respond to Megs. For now I want to pretend what I did before we met doesn’t impact my feelings for this amazing girl. I squeeze her slender fingers in mine. “Where to?”

Instead of heading back to the garage we left from yesterday, she leads me into the heart of the building. She opens a door next to the stairs we used to visit Janic and reveals another stairwell. Older and darker. The only light creeps in from the poorly fitted seals around the doors and from gaps in a trap door above our heads. The rays splinter in filled with dust and smog, each particle reflecting a tiny beam of sun.

“No one comes this way much,” says Megs, with a grin. “There are sentries on the roof but they use the new stairwells at the end of the building.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

The wooden steps creak beneath my weight. The spider webs that are probably holding the staircase together stick to my feet. We climb up. I grip the rail with my free hand, ready to take off my weight if the whole thing gives way. Megs still holds the other.

We step out into a breeze that tugs at my t-shirt but isn’t enough to dislodge the early morning fog. Megs waves to the sentries at either end of the building. We head toward the three old brick chimneys rising from the middle of the building.