Temper

by Beck Nicholas

  ***

  I use the three hours until my afternoon watch duty to nap and eat. I’m finishing off some rabbit stew when I see Megs weaving through the tables toward me.

  I duck my head, slurp the last of the gravy, and head out in the opposite direction.

  Being around Megs and her fierce loyalty to everything Keane represents will only make working out what to do next more difficult. If anything else, I’d be able to rely on her ability to cut through crap, but this isn’t a problem she can help me with.

  At last I’m alone at the fence line. Just me and the patched up fence that’s supposed to make us all feel safe. I have the marks from working on the fence, and I believed in it as a statement against the Company. But now it looks like a joke.

  What good would this fence do against the Company?

  What good is a fence when you can’t trust the people on the inside with you?

  I take my place on the rough wooden platform and stare out over the mountains but the view of jagged rock and spindly trees blurs before my eyes. A Company force could walk over the top of the hill and I wouldn’t see it.

  Instead I see Kaih, imprisoned for something I’m sure she didn’t do. But why? What did we find that the green robes would do to protect?

  What would finding another ship do that they are so desperate to keep hidden? Or did Kaih find something else?

  I press my fists hard against my throbbing temples.

  The note from Kaih is still in my pocket where I put it hours ago. At first I didn’t read it because I wanted to make sure no one would see me. Now, I can’t because every time I picture her gagged and imprisoned I want to be sick. Or march back down there and tell them the truth.

  I’m a coward. I should have said something straight away. Proof be damned. It’s too much of a coincidence to believe she’s Tesae’s killer. I don’t believe she was in the fight at all. But with no alibi and Charley’s supposed DNA evidence, I don’t know how to prove otherwise.

  I pick up a stone and hurl it against the closest rock wall. It shatters. I throw another. And another. The thud and smash don’t fix anything, but it’s sure nice to watch something break.

  “Thought I’d find you here.”

  I swivel, rock in hand to see Keane an arm’s reach behind me. I gulp in air and cough.

  His gaze flicks to the rock in my hand. “You’d want to be careful with a weapon like that.”

  The rock is heavy in my hand and my muscles warm with exertion. It would be so easy to swing my arm, watch as it flies through the air. This close, there’s no way I would miss.

  But this is Keane. And I can’t be sure he’s the enemy.

  “Weapon?” I say, pretending confusion. I drop the rock, watching as it rolls away back toward camp. “No, I was working out a little frustration.”

  His mouth curves into a familiar smile. Has it always looked so satisfied? So secretive?

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay after the infection. Charley said you were pretty unwell there for a while. I meant to see you yesterday but I didn’t have a chance.”

  He’s talking about Kaih and their supposed evidence. I’m sure there’s something I’d say if I didn’t know where he’d really found Kaih last night. But damn me if I know what it is.

  “I can imagine.”

  “You were staying with Kaih last night, weren’t you?” His tone’s conversational but I hear all kinds of intent in the question.

  He knows I was and now I understand why he’s here. When I saw him a few hours ago he bought my story about keeping up morale, since then he must have heard where I slept last night. He wants to work out how much I know about what Kaih was up to. Confronting him with the truth might ease my guilt but it isn’t what Kaih wants. The answer to that sits heavy in my pocket, still unread.

  “I was.”

  “You didn’t notice her leave in the middle of the night?”

  I rub at the ache in my head and don’t have to fake a pained expression. “After the day I had, I was lucky to hear your call to the meeting.”

  His arms fold. “I’ve been wondering about something. It’s no big deal, but I would have thought you might stay with Megs or your mother when Charley released you. Kaih’s an odd choice.” He smiles again but his eyes are dark. “Why did you stay with her?”

  Why?

  My mouth dries and brain scrambles. What would I say if I knew nothing? My friend has been accused of murder. I let some of my panic show, hoping he misunderstands it. “Are you accusing me of something?”

  He relaxes a fraction. “Of course not. And I have met your mother.”

  We share a smile, but he’s still waiting for an explanation on Megs. I look down at my hands, remember them on Asher’s skin and the understanding it brought me. No one else will ever be able to compete with her, no matter how hot or brave or willing, and Megs is all those things.

  I sigh and choose an almost truth. “I couldn’t stay with Megs because of Asher.”

  His face is unreadable.

  Have I convinced him?

  Chapter Eleven

  [Asher]

  I want to ask Davyd why he doesn’t simply tell me whatever it is I’m supposed to be looking out for, but he’s already marching down a long, low lit hallway, and I have to hurry to catch up. Maybe there’s no time. Maybe there are Company people listening. Maybe he’s trying to be mysterious because he loves that he’s back in control.

  He’s wrong anyway. He might think he’s my only chance but I stopped relying on anyone but myself a long time ago. I will get out of here, and I will take what I need back to the camp with me.

  The door swishes closed behind me.

  I do as Davyd suggested—something I would have done anyway—and study my surroundings as much as I can without tripping. We’re in a corridor lit by pale strip lights along the high ceiling and the intersection of the wall and floor. It gives the white walls a faint blue glow. The tiles beneath my bare feet are soft and sound absorbing; there’s no click from Davyd’s booted steps as I’d expect from the shiny surface. Everything feels clean, scrubbed. A faint smell of antiseptic lingers.

  While there are no obvious doors, there are numbers on the ceiling separated by the right distance to suggest they represent different rooms. I look back, I think ours was thirteen. Two Company officers hurry past me, neither of them appearing surprised by a jeans-clad girl in their midst, towering several inches over them all. They wear the same gray uniforms as every other one I’ve seen except they both have the green piping around the neck like the woman who removed the wires from my head. They must all be medical people.

  We round a bend and come out into a large space. Although it’s rounded, the five corridors leading away make me think of a star. It’s open to another level above with a balcony and yet more corridors. In the center there’s a curved desk with dozens of screens and two Company officers scanning them, presumably for anything out of the ordinary.

  The screen in the lower left corner catches my eye. There lies a small figure on a bed. Rael.

  They were watching. Davyd wasn’t the only one witness to me undressing. Heat washes over me. Unable to help myself, I take a step toward the pictures. The darker skinned of the officers looks up at my movement. His brown eyes fix on me, and I’m sure it’s no coincidence that he leans forward at that moment, letting his finger swipe the screen in question.

  Rael’s hunched, shaking shoulders are enlarged over several screens. Muffled sobbing echoes through speakers I can’t see. They’re listening as well as watching. Then the sound is gone and the screen is minimized once again. The officer watches for my reaction.

  I lift my chin and shrug, hoping he gets my ‘I don’t care’ message.

  Indifferent to the interplay, Davyd walks ahead, confident I’ll follow. He’s so damn sure there’s nowhere else for me to go and he’s right. I stand out in here and not only because I’m taller than everyone else. The je
ans and plain singlet I’ve been given to wear is stark next to all the people in gray. First thing I’ll need to do when I escape is get a hold of one of those Company uniforms.

  I take a moment to orient myself. Rael is in the branch of the star that lies directly behind the large screen. I can’t imagine a situation where I’d gamble on a run for it through here; there are too many officers, but I need all the information I can get.

  I follow Davyd to the branch two around clockwise from ‘mine,’ but glance back at the screens. The officer might have thought he was clever, showing off his power to observe, but he’s given me hope.

  These Company officers are human. Petty, nasty, and fallible. Which means they can be beaten.

  At first, I think this corridor is identical to the one I left, except for the lack of numbers overhead. I catch up to Davyd, but he doesn’t indicate he noticed me dawdling. I kind of thought my capture might be big news in Company land, but the way he leaves me to trail behind makes me wonder why they’re bothering to question me at all.

  Every officer who passes us seems busy and full of purpose. None of which has anything to do with me.

  We hit a t-section. Davyd slows, giving me a chance to look down the way we don’t go. There’s a forbidding metal archway and a stationary guard. Beyond him, there are regular numbers near the ceiling, but here there are doors. Or more accurately, bars. Narrow slats of metal separated by a finger’s width. It’s brighter too, more like the room I left than the other corridors. Nowhere to hide even if you get through the bars. Light comes from every direction, erasing shadows. Visible ones anyway. Mine aren’t so easy to disperse.

  I’ve been so busy observing my surroundings, it’s almost a shock to reach our destination. Davyd hesitates, his palm over the wall. He glances up and down the corridor. Except for the distant guard who’s facing the cells, it’s empty.

  “You have to listen to me,” he says. His hands on my shoulders are strong, and the warmth spreads through me from his touch. I’d like to blame the thin singlet they provided me with, but I know it’s all Davyd.

  “I don’t.” The denial slips out. I can’t help it. Being around Davyd brings out the argumentative child in me.

  He ignores it. “Tell them everything. This isn’t the time to be clever.”

  “I’m no traitor.” I leave the ‘unlike you’ unsaid.

  His eyes darken and I think he hears it anyway. “Remember the Remote Device?”

  Instantly, I’m back in the Control Room on board the ship on the night of the rebellion. My lips are tender from Davyd’s kiss, but now he’s pointing the device that controls all Lifers at me, the same one that killed my father, and he’s apologizing for having to use it.

  I shrug free of his grip. “How can I forget? I thought you would kill me. So what if they threaten to switch me off, I’ve faced that before.” I’m glad my voice doesn’t wobble. A few days ago I could have truly faced the device without fear. I had nothing to lose. Now I can’t fight the images of Samuai, Kaih and Rael all of them in my head, fighting to remind me I’m not alone.

  “It’s different now. They don’t need your specific code, they simply need to be in range. They’ve had scientists working around the clock. Now, they can use it deliver pain.”

  I manage not to outwardly flinch. “I can take it.”

  His hand lifts like he’s going to brush my cheek, but at the last second he doesn’t. In his eyes there are shadows. Then he blinks and the bemused smile is back. “I know you can, Princess.”

  I want to tell him the nickname is getting old, but he’s opening the door.

  Inside, is a white box room like the one I left a few minutes ago. Instead of the beds, there’s a plain black table. Two men sit facing me. One fat and sweating under the bright white light, the other tall, powerful, and familiar. Maston.

  Between them, sitting there, almost lost on the black surface is the Remote Device.

  I freeze.

  The fat man’s lips curve into an imitation of a smile that makes his pale little eyes nearly disappear completely. He’s the first person I’ve seen here not in Company gray. Instead he wears black pants, a white shirt straining to stay closed, and a white coat.

  He waves at a stool between me and the table. “Come in and sit, won’t you, Asher?” Each word drips from his lips like drops of oil from fat sausages. “Don’t be shy.”

  Move legs.

  I glance up at Davyd. “Scared, Princess?” He mouths.

  A shot of anger gets my legs moving. I stumble inside, sit, and hope my clenched fists hide my shaking hands.

  The fat man looks to Davyd. “Leave us, now.”

  I don’t watch him go. We’re not allies, and we’re certainly not friends. I’m alone in this, and it’s better I remember that fact. But I can’t help thinking the swish of the door closing sounds a hell of a lot like goodbye.

  The fat man smiles once more. He folds his hands in front of him on the table. Each finger curls in a neat line, long and absurdly slender. They’re the hands of an artist … or a surgeon.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this,” he says. “A chance for us to chat. But first, we need some proper introductions. I am the Doctor.” He lifts a hand and holds it out.

  I let my gaze flick over it and then place my hands deliberately in my lap.

  He lowers his hand. “And here I was hoping we’d be friends.”

  I focus on Maston, the silent observer. He’s high up in the Company, the power Davyd’s been given confirms it, but how high? I don’t know whether he being here means he’s more or less important than we thought.

  I wait until his gray eyes, so like Davyd’s, meet mine. “I thought I was here for questions.”

  If only they’d hurry up with whatever torture they have planned. I meant what I said to Davyd about pain; I don’t want to sit here for hours anticipating the prospect.

  Doctor clears his throat, drawing attention back to himself. “I’m so glad for your ignorance. It will make what we have planned such a lovely surprise.”

  I don’t flinch, but my stomach sinks toward the floor. His eyes are on me, waiting for the inevitable question of what exactly they have planned. I want to know. I want to know so bad I’m buzzing with it, but he can take his expectations and shove them between his fat rolls.

  I press my lips together.

  “Why no simple questions?” He asks, when I don’t. “We took samples while you were unconscious. Of course. You must have guessed that. Most of what we want to know will be spelled out in biological detail by your body.”

  Samples?

  Ice slips down my spine. It seems obvious now. I was unconscious, and the wires recently removed from the back of my head were probably part of their monitoring.

  Doctor’s neat fingernails tap on the table top.

  Those hands. On me while I couldn’t fight back. A fist of horror clamps around my belly and squeezes. The ball of rage I carry with me expands, filling the empty spaces inside me. The idea of Davyd being the one to have undressed me suddenly doesn’t seem so bad.

  His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him over the rushing in my ears. Those hands … touching me …

  Doctor’s fist with its odd, slim, fingers hits the table. The thud on impact sends a shockwave up his arm and through his flesh and a heartbeat later his jowls wobble. “It’s polite to pay attention when someone is speaking to you.”

  I bite down on a surge of anger. I have to stay in control. Here, more than ever I must be master of myself no matter how impossible the task. How can I fight the Company if I’ve already lost the battle for my temper?

  He lowers his tone. “As I was saying, within a few hours I will have all the answers I need from you in my laboratory.”

  It’s violation by test tube. This disgusting man will soon know more about me than I do myself.

  I don’t throw myself across the table and find his eyes with my fingers, as satisfyi
ng as that might be. Instead, I take a deep, slow breath, laced with the reek of Doctor’s oily skin and my own terrified sweat. I push back the stool, so it scrapes along the floor. The dull noise it makes isn’t the screech I would like, but in the end I stand anyway and look down at him. “Fine. If we’re done here, I’ll be going.”

  In that moment of triumph I think I see Maston’s mouth, the full lips a little like Samuai’s, twitch.

  Crack.

  The hand across my cheek sends me reeling. I rub my face. The doctor moves fast for a big man.

  He straightens and tugs at his shirt, which rode up in his rush around the table. “Please, my dear, sit down.”

  I take my time obeying, glad the trembling of my knees doesn’t show. I move my jaw side to side, making sure it’s still attached.

  “Now, where were we?” He claps his hands together. “I just bet you’re wondering why you’re here?”

  “No.”

  His smile falters, but he continues as though I haven’t spoken. “Maston and I were discussing our little experiment. He wanted to cut our losses. However, you’ll be pleased to know I have assured him our tools have been misplaced rather than broken.”

  “What do you mean tools?”

  I can guess the answer but I’m buying time. He’s talking about us and the experiment is the ship. When he says ‘misplaced’ he must be talking about our escape from the ship, but he’s confident they can still use us. How? No one will willingly join the Company after what they’ve done. Lifers and Fishies alike are angry, and would sooner fight against the Company than fight for them. Bringing us here would put them all in danger unless …

  His finger hovers over the Remote Device.

  Unless they’ve come up with a way to control us or somehow use our bodies against us. I suspect I’m about to be a demonstration.

  “You, my dear, are my tool.” There’s something possessive in his tone that makes me edge as far back on the stool as I can. “You and the others. Ready to fight for me when war comes again.”