I will succeed. Or I will die trying.
This time the packaging tears open beneath my fingers. It frees the lightest, silkiest white material I’ve ever seen. It floats in my hands, gossamer like. I take a deep breath before stripping my Lifer uniform, and pulling the dress over my head. Careful, so I don’t tear Kaih’s creation.
The fabric’s nothing more than a whisper against my skin. A single, thin strap loops around my neck and supports the whole thing. It falls over my body in waves, hugging my breasts and my hips, flaring out to brush the floor.
I stare at the girl in the mirror. Her shaved head and lean figure mark her as Lifer but beyond that she has nothing in common with me. Somehow, Kaih’s made me almost beautiful. A hundred images of Samuai reflect back from the walls behind me. He never saw me like this: fresh, clean, wearing a dress.
My gaze fixes on one of his warm smiles, I twirl on bare feet. “What do you think?” I whisper into the dead silence.
I hold my breath for a heartbeat but of course there’s no answer. Samuai’s been gone for weeks. And Davyd waits.
He and Lady stand by the door leading out of the apartment, talking softly. Huckle’s nowhere to be seen. Suddenly shy, I pause in the doorway, waiting for them to look up.
Lady sees me first; her powdered face cracks into a big smile. “You look so lovely,” she cries. She crosses the room to envelop me in a squishy hug.
But the whole time I’m waiting for Davyd. Waiting for him to look at me. Waiting for him to comment. He does neither, pressing his wrist to the scanner to open the door and lead us down the hall.
It isn’t disappointment that makes my eyes burn and my hands shake because I didn’t dress to impress him. I know he didn’t dress to impress me but his plain charcoal suit fits his broad shoulders so perfectly I struggle to look away. The gray of his shirt reflects the ice of his eyes and, although he’s not bothered with a tie, he’s anything but casual.
My feet drag as we approach an area of the ship I’ve only heard about. The Commander’s Lounge belongs to Maston, the head Naut, and he will play host for the evening. The hallway’s deserted but neither Lady nor Davyd seems concerned that we’re late.
Davyd scans his wrist and the doors open with a soft swish. I smooth my hands down the sides of my dress. Nervous fingers encounter something strange. Small pockets hidden in the folds of the material. If only I’d known before we left the apartment. Maybe I could’ve carried a weapon instead of relying on my wits. And Davyd.
I brace for stares at the least. No Lifers but me are allowed inside tonight; even the serving will be done by low-level Fishies and the Nauts’ special servants.
Inside, Fishies stand on plush carpet, clumped in groups around candlelit high tables. The flickering flames that are the centerpiece of each one are reflected a hundred times in the sparkles affixed to every second female’s dress and many of the men’s ties. The effect is a kaleidoscope of color.
I expected a quiet formal affair, but the noise is so loud and the conversations so self-absorbed that not one person looks up when we enter, and my fears of being the center of attention evaporate on my exhaled breath.
As we move into the room, the air thickens with a dozen different perfumes. Flowers scents like Lady’s but sweeter, thicker somehow. Other scents of rich foods and heavy sauces. Spice and sour. Each one’s stronger than the last. By the time we reach the bar and Huckle, the stuff coats my throat. I’m not sure it’s any better than the unwashed stench of the Lifer quarters.
I think of the celebration below and miss my mother and my friends more than ever. But I can’t wish myself down there. Not after all I’ve done to be here tonight.
When I think of the Control Room, my gaze seeks Davyd’s but he isn’t looking my way. He speaks to his mother in a low voice and then gestures to the person working behind the bar. I take the opportunity to appreciate the simplicity of his suit compared to the lime green Huckle chose and some of the other ridiculous color combinations.
“You look lovely.” It’s Huckle. He’s standing so close to me that his rancid breath hits my face.
I stifle a shudder. “Thank you.”
There’s no evidence in his demeanor of the stress I overheard earlier. His red face shines and his eyes are hazy, like he’s not quite seeing me. He rests a heavy arm across Davyd’s shoulders. “You could have made more of an effort though. What will Maston think?”
Davyd’s lip curls and he shrugs the arm away. “You won’t remember what I’m wearing come morning at the rate you’re sucking down tubes.”
That explains it. I’ve heard the Lifers who set up the room for the ball talk about the tubes we’re not permitted to touch. Then I see them for myself, hundreds of small black vials filled with clear liquid are stacked behind the bar along with other drinks.
“Want one?” Huckle asks, pointing a stubby finger in their direction.
“No, thank you.” I need to keep my head clear.
As it is I’m struggling to keep everything about the setup and the crowd straight in my head to report to Mother.
“Another for me then,” says Huckle so loud that those Fishies closest to us turn.
Each of them grins wide with the same hazy look in their eyes. They don’t look twice at me. If only Mother knew. Tonight’s the perfect night to make an attempt for control of the ship. Most of the Lifers’ opposition is out of their mind on whatever drug fills the black vials.
Davyd hands over the tube and Huckle’s damp arm slips around me as he throws his head back and gulps loudly. He reeks of the clear liquid, bitter and sour combining to make my eyes water and distaste crawl a slimy trail over my skin.
“We know it’s planned for tonight,” he says conversationally.
“What?” I hope he’s too intoxicated to notice my flinch.
Has Davyd betrayed me already? When I look to him for answers, he’s disappeared into the crowd. Leaving me alone to face Huckle. Huckle who seems far too jovial for a man who’s uncovered my plans to break into the Control Room.
“Neale attempted to kidnap my wife and hold her hostage.” I stare at him dumbly until he adds, “The rebellion will be thwarted thanks to the listening device you planted.”
I think of Kaih, looking so excited. Is this what she meant by telling me to prepare? Then Huckle’s words sink in. If this is Neale’s plan, then it’s a setup by Mother, but why?
He waits for a response. I adopt an earnest expression. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Of course you are.”
I’m curious but don’t want to ask the wrong questions and make him suspicious. “Lady seems safe enough.”
“Now,” he says with heavy emphasis. “Their attempt won’t happen until she retires to our quarters later.”
“What do you mean won’t happen? Surely you locked up those planning such a thing.”
“Better to catch them in the act. Then it’s a death sentence.”
I don’t have to fake my gasp of horror. What’s my mother doing? An attempt on Lady would never work, particularly when the Fishies know in advance. A diversion, then. But why?
Lifers will throw away their lives tonight. But what will we gain from it?
I’m so caught up guessing my mother’s true purpose that I don’t notice Huckle’s fat fingers slipping down my arm and lingering near my chest until Davyd drags Huckle’s arm away.
“Hands off the help.” His stony voice reflects the ice in his eyes. A faint pulse throbbing in his throat betrays his anger. Is it in my defense? I imagine he’s come to my rescue like one of the knights in the recordings of old Earth stories they play in the recreation areas.
“Want a piece for youshself?” Huckle sprays saliva with every word.
Davyd’s right hand curls into a fist. But only briefly. He relaxes, and even chuckles, like the idea of him wanting me is laughable. “No, Father, but I don’t want to see a man of your esteem have your reputation lowe
red on such a night.”
Father. The title sounds foreign coming out of Davyd’s mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him refer to Huckle that way. Again, I’m struck by how little either of Lady’s sons resembles her husband.
“You’re right,” Huckle agrees. His chest puffs out and he moves toward the bar, immediately calling for another black vial.
“Thank you,” I say.
Davyd shrugs it off. “I just didn’t want him making a fool of himself.”
It was stupid of me to think he might have any other aim. I hope the confusion in my brain doesn’t show on my face. The noise in here has increased since we arrived. Every few seconds there’s a squeal of laugher and I wince. The tension of being here, of what’s to come, of trying to work out why Mother plans to sacrifice Lifers tonight, of what the diversion is really for, it all compounds to make my head throb.
I must focus on getting to the Remote Device and finding out what happened to Zed and Samuai.
I glance around the room, appearing interested but not too interested in my betters. I would pick most of them for Fishies; they have that soft look about them. The only people I’ve never seen before, even in passing, are the men behind the bar, and they don’t look special enough in their brown t-shirts and matching trousers to be Nauts.
“Where are our fine leaders this evening?” I ask Davyd.
“One of them would have opened the party, but they have better things to do than watch this crowd drink themselves blind.”
He speaks so surely, like he thinks of himself as better than everyone here. Like he thinks of himself as a Naut.
“Like what?” I ask.
He ignores my question. “I think you’re blushing.” His palm grazes against the skin at the top of my bare shoulder. The contact’s so light—he could be brushing away a crumb—except I haven’t eaten anything here and his words are full of suggestion. “Are you thinking naughty thoughts?” he asks. He’s trying to distract me.
It works. “Only of Samuai,” I snap.
“He’s not going to keep you warm at night.”
I allow a slow smile to curve my lips. “But the memories—”
“You don’t know anything about him,” he growls, but some of the confidence from earlier is missing.
Without thinking, I curl my fingers around the lapel of his jacket. “Tell me.”
He roughly dislodges my hand. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
His gaze meets mine. It’s all heat and anger and I’m not sure whether he’s going to haul me into his arms and kiss me senseless or slap me. But we’re in a room full of his peers and Davyd is never out of control for long.
“Forget it,” he mutters.
“I can’t. I’m wondering whether you actually plan to keep your word or if this is an exercise in humiliating me.”
“Your feelings aren’t my concern.”
“Lookee what we have here.” It’s Tesae, as drugged as all the others and looking as much like a sofa as Kaih suggested. The bulbous wings of her dress resemble the armrests and her chest two puffy cushions. “Hi ya, handsome.” She runs pale fingers up over Davyd’s chest, then behind his neck, leaning in for a kiss.
As her painted lips smear from his cheek to his mouth, he’s looking at me. I look away.
With Davyd claimed, she turns her focus on me. “Did they run out of time to make your dress?” A tinkle of amusement follows the question.
I don’t dare answer in case I say something I regret.
My gaze is lowered but I see her red-clad leg curl around Davyd’s. She must be clinging to him to stay upright. “It almost makes me feel sorry for her,” Tesae whispers loudly. “Except that she’s scum who shouldn’t even be here.”
Don’t, Asher. She’s not worth it.
I count individual strands of the cream carpet and breathe deeply.
“You’re right,” agrees Davyd. “The dress is terrible. The way it shows off all that smooth skin, that sheer skirt that reveals legs that could make a guy turned on if he looks too long. Don’t get me started on her cleavage.”
I look up to catch Tesae blinking, like she’s not sure whether Davyd’s agreed with her or not. But I know, because I felt every word like a rough caress. Laughter at the other girl’s confusion mixes with something hotter in my chest.
Now I know what he thinks of my dress.
The tension breaks when Tesae forces him into conversation about some delicacy they served earlier and my stomach rumbles. I’m not going to be much use in the Control Room if I’m faint with hunger. Lady’s a few feet away, talking to one of the Naut servants who balances a large tray of food in one hand.
I move to her side. “Can I help you Lady?”
Her hand takes mine, her nails digging into the skin inside my wrist. “I was just telling this boy he reminds me of my Samuai.”
Apart from his brown hair, the servant looks nothing like her dead son. Would Mother see Zed’s face in the unfamiliar features of a stranger? I don’t wonder for long because the darting of Lady’s eyes tells me she’s close to having an attack. “That’s nice,” I say. If she falls apart here, I’ll be straight back to the apartment at her side and the chance of going to the Control Room will disappear.
The servant says nothing. I take two plates from him, not dwelling on how wrong it feels to be served by another, and pile both with miniature catfish pies, the only food I recognize. “Would you like something to eat Lady?”
The distraction method’s helped before. But I couldn’t be that lucky tonight.
Lady reaches out past the plate. “Did you know Samuai?” she asks the boy. “My son was so beautiful…so cruelly taken from his mother.” Tears streak Lady’s face.
The boy shakes his head, his eyes darting around for escape from the crazy Lady. He isn’t much older than Zed. I try desperately to think of something to do that will let him flee before she starts thinking he’s Samuai.
I bite into the light pastry. “This is delicious. You should try one.”
Where’s Davyd when I need him? I catch the thought before it grows. Now’s not the time to rely on a Fishie.
“Delicious,” I say loudly.
Lady looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time tonight. “Asher, I didn’t see you there.” Her gaze drops to the food. “They look lovely, may I try one?”
“Of course Lady.”
As she takes a bite, I jerk my head to suggest the boy leave. He doesn’t need a second suggestion, blending silently into the crowd. I exhale relief and bite into my second pie as Lady looks around in surprise.
Is she looking for the boy? I tense, ready with an excuse for him when she smiles a satisfied smile. “I’m glad to get you alone. Have you found out what happened to Samuai?”
We spend most of our days alone in the apartment and she’s asking me here? “Not yet, Lady.”
She drops the plate. The food splatters across the thick carpet as the white plate breaks. The pies are warm and sticky on my feet, staining my dress. Fishies look. Their gazes accuse. What did the uninvited Lifer girl do to Lady?
I force them from my mind. “Lady, do you need to rest?”
She lifts a shaking hand to wipe her brow. “A lie down would be lovely. The noise, you know.”
But her words carry, because for the first time the conversation in the room’s quieted to a whisper.
Huckle and five other older Fishies stagger to Lady’s side. All of them have the hazy look of the tubes. I step out of the way as she’s escorted from the room. A wicked piece of the plate bites into my heel. I bend to pick it up and then slide it into the fold of my dress. I’m not asked to go with my mistress; all the attention is on Lady, who bends over and vomits in the doorway.
What a performance.
Apart from Huckle, other Fishies follow her out of the room at a distance. Each of the men radiates excitement. They’re expecting an attack from the Lifer rebellion.
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“They’re armed you know. I think there’s a fair chance they’ll take each other out.” Davyd’s smooth voice wraps around me. Unsurprised, I face him. With the distraction of the attempted rebellion, there’s no better time to take me to the Control Room.
And the pieces click into place.
Mother guessed what my presence at the ball meant; this staging of an attack on Lady is her way of creating a diversion. My resentment’s washed away on a grateful tide of understanding. Rather than doubting my courage, she’s helping me in the only way she can.
Thank you, Mother.
Davyd’s words register. “You’re not worried about your parents?”
“My mother can look after herself.”
No mention of Huckle. Now isn’t the time to press him on their strange relationship. There’s so much more politics to the Fishie existence than I observed in my years on the lower levels. Davyd insists that I didn’t really know Samuai because of some secret; but secret aside, his life must have been so different from what he showed me in our forbidden meetings. Maybe Davyd’s right.
Pain follows the thought, swift and sharp. I loved Samuai and he loved me. I have to stay strong.
Davyd takes my hand. I hope he doesn’t notice it’s damp. I don’t want him to think I’m scared. Around us, the noise level rises as conversations start up again, everyone whispering about Lady’s turn. “When we walk out those doors, there’s no going back,” he says. “Are you ready?”
My hand drops to caress the sharp edge of my makeshift weapon. “Bring it on.”
Together, we walk out of the ball. No one stops us or points; nobody even looks our way. The biggest walk of my life and it might as well be a trip to use the toilet facilities.
“I’m not sure this is a good plan,” I whisper a few minutes later.
“I am. And that’s what counts.”
I’m busy staring at the ground trying to appear subservient so I only hear the confidence in his voice.
He’s brave, I’ll give him that much. I expected something covert when we left the ball, but he leads me to the elevator and up to the Control Room level, brazen as can be. At each set of doors he swipes his wrist across the scanner and is granted immediate access. Our footfalls are loud in the silent corridors. I’m making mental notes to report to Mother. The hammering of my heart and swirling in my belly makes it hard to think at all, let alone remember details.
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