A Sea of Shattered Glass

by Kyla Stone

  “It could be beneficial.”

  Gabriel was used to groveling to the strutting elite, pandering to their every whim and desire, a forced smile always on his face. It was his job as a security officer. But the daughter of the BioGen CEO? The man who epitomized ravenous corporate greed and maleficence, who exorbitantly overpriced his cancer cure so the common people couldn’t afford it, just to further line his already bursting pockets? A hot spark of rage ignited inside him. “What for? What possible purpose could it serve?”

  “We don’t always see the entire board before we begin to play. The more pieces we have, the stronger our position. When our friends arrive, we want to be ready.”

  He gritted his teeth. “I don’t need to babysit some rich bitch. I’m here for the mission. To actually do something.”

  “I need you to trust me for just a while longer.” Simeon’s voice was strong, commanding. “Do you trust me?”

  Simeon had never let him down, had never lied to him or disappointed him. Simeon was the one who gave him a purpose, who’d brought him into the cause. He trusted Simeon with his life. “Of course.”

  Simeon paused, turning to face Gabriel. He placed his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Remember why you’re here. Remember your reason.”

  Gabriel never forgot, not for one minute of one single day. His hatred was always with him, his anger a live wire, sparking and dangerous.

  Outside on Deck Five’s jogging track, the sky was clear, the flat blue sea empty all the way to the horizon. The sun warmed Gabriel’s face and a cool breeze tugged at his hair. This high, on a ship like this, on a bright, pure day like today—he could almost believe the world was beautiful and whole. Could almost believe the ugliness back home was just a bad dream, a nightmare he would wake from.

  Almost.

  A metalhead brushed past Gabriel. “Excuse me,” it said as it swept the jogging track. It would have said, “Excuse me, sir,” if Gabriel was a passenger. The service bot was eerily realistic, with poreless skin made of silicone, synthetic hair, and metallic ferrofluids that allowed its smooth, humanlike movements. Pretty soon, these metalheads would take over all the ship positions. They’d already stolen half the jobs in the states.

  Gabriel gritted his teeth and pushed the dark thoughts out of his mind. Soon. He only had to be patient a little longer.

  He waved at his younger brother, Micah, who was leaning against the railing, waiting for him. They walked the track at least twice a week. It was their time to check in and catch up. They saw each other most days in the crew lounge, but it wasn't the same.

  “I've been messaging you,” Micah said, adjusting his glasses.

  “Sorry. Too busy with Teresa Velasquez in the Oceanarium.” A girl was always an easy excuse, and one Micah never hesitated to believe.

  “You and girls in the Oceanarium. Is there some magical aphrodisiac in there I don’t know about?”

  Gabriel grinned. “That’s a trade secret.”

  Micah rolled his eyes. He and Gabriel shared the same dark curly hair, full lips, and bronze skin, but where Gabriel was sharp and intense, Micah’s face was round and boyish, with a softness around his eyes.

  Gabriel tilted his chin at the tattered paperback in Micah’s hand. Micah brought a crate of their mom’s old books with him on the ship. He loved the leather-bound first editions in the ship’s library, but they were chipped—lowly crew members weren’t allowed to take them out of the room. “What are you reading this time?”

  “Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.”

  “Seriously? You ever read anything fun and lighthearted?”

  Micah shrugged. “Hey, it could be worse. I also have Moby Dick.”

  Gabriel laughed. “Okay, you win. How's work?”

  “The same. Good.” Micah wasn't one to complain. He was good-natured and steady, the type to welcome the good and try not to think too hard about the bad.

  As they walked, three beautiful girls in colorful sarongs sashayed toward them. A model-tall African-American girl with gorgeous red hair made eye contact and held it, her lips tilted in a smirk.

  “Good afternoon, ladies.” He dipped his head.

  The redhead giggled. Her hair wasn't so much red as a metallic copper. The tight coils spilled over her shoulders, glimmering in the sunlight.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she asked, resting her hand on her cocked hip.

  Gabriel paused. Micah stopped beside him. “I'm at your service, ladies.”

  More giggles from the redhead and a skinny blonde with purple streaks in her hair. Gabriel recognized the third girl, the white-haired one, her locks pulled back in a loose French braid. The CEO’s daughter. He couldn't read her expression beneath her huge, blue-tinted sunglasses. She hung back, letting her friends control the conversation.

  He'd seen her last night at the Cocktails with the Captain meet and greet, where he'd served as additional security against potential party crashers. She'd glided through the crowd, laughing and smiling, charming everyone. But he wasn’t charmed. He saw through her masquerade, just like he saw through them all.

  He fought down the resentment and hatred swelling inside him. She was a mission. If that was what Simeon wanted of him, he would put everything into it, whether he saw the purpose or not.

  “So, ah, Officer . . . Rivera,” the redhead said, reading his name tag. She bit her lower lip. “Are the passengers allowed to socialize with the crew?”

  He pushed down his revulsion and flashed a practiced grin. He was an expert at it by now. “Depends on what you mean by socializing.”

  “We heard there were amazing crew parties below deck.”

  “Yep.” He smiled, waiting them out.

  He glanced at the CEO’s daughter. She was half-turned toward the glass railing, looking out over the water. Not even paying attention. She fit in with the rest of them, but there was something about her. She was aloof, coolly reserved, more strange-looking than beautiful up close. But nothing mattered except who she was—the daughter of Declan Black.

  The redhead narrowed her eyes. “Don’t mind her. So what do we have to do to get an invitation?”

  “Your stunning beauty is your ticket, ladies,” Gabriel said. “Next party we have, I'll make sure someone finds you. But only if all three of you come.”

  The redhead shot him a brilliant white smile. “Of course. Thanks so much, Officer Rivera. I guess we'll see you around, won't we?”

  “Ladies.” He inclined his head again as they passed, stifling more giggles behind their hands.

  “Every time,” Micah said when they were gone. “How do you do it?”

  Gabriel shrugged as they continued walking. He'd never had a hard time getting girls. Something about his scruffy facial hair and the dimple in his left cheek. At least, that's what they told him.

  But he didn't care about any of that. He couldn't afford to. And anyway, these girls were a whole other breed. They were perfect. Classy. Stunningly beautiful. Still, he found them repellant. But on the ship, customer service was number one. Make them feel special, even though they already knew they were. And he had his own reasons for charming them.

  Gabriel ran his hand through his hair. “Be careful of beautiful things, brother. They're not usually what they seem.”

  “They're just what they advertise—smart, beautiful girls who'll never give me the time of day. You, on the other hand . . .”

  Gabriel’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Maybe if you pulled your head out of a book once in a while. And it's not my fault they're helpless to resist me.”

  Micah laughed without a hint of resentment or jealousy. He was loyal to the core. “Did you notice that girl? The one with the white hair?”

  “How could I not? She stands out in a crowd, even one like this.”

  “Have you heard her play the violin?” Micah's voice changed, took on an edge of awe. “The song she played last night. It was something else. I felt like I was in some fancy concert hall.”

&n
bsp; “Because you have so many fancy concerts to compare it to.”

  Micah shrugged good-naturedly. “I'm telling you, you should hear her play.”

  Gabriel studied him out of the corner of his eye. Leave it to his brother to fall for a girl's musical abilities. He was probably the only member of the whole crew who even knew where the library was. “No crushes on the passengers, remember?”

  Micah rolled his eyes. “I'm just . . . impressed.”

  “Is that what they're calling it these days?” Gabriel clapped his brother on the back.

  An Indian couple strolled past, their boisterous twin girls scampering ahead of them. Gabriel gave them a nod and a wave.

  “Gabriel,” Micah said hesitantly. “This afternoon, I thought I saw—Is Simeon Pagnini a passenger?”

  Gabriel's shoulders tensed. He quickened his pace. “So what? I told you he had connections in high places.”

  Micah hurried to catch up. “I know, but he never seemed the type to enjoy something like this, with people like this . . .”

  “You don't know anything about him.”

  His brother had never liked Simeon. Simeon spent all his time with Gabriel, barely noticing shy, small Micah. Normally low key, Micah got angry when Simeon invited only Gabriel into his exclusive New Patriots association two years ago. It was the only thing they’d ever fought about.

  It would have been better if Micah hadn't noticed Simeon at all. Nine months ago, when Simeon had first helped push through Micah's application, Gabriel hadn't known Simeon's plans. He never would have allowed his brother on the ship.

  “But—”

  “But what?” Gabriel whirled on him. “There's nothing to talk about. He's on the ship. So what? So are a thousand other people.”

  Micah stared at him, hurt and confusion in his eyes. They waited in silence as a middle-aged couple jogged by in matching black and yellow athletic wear.

  Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Micah didn’t understand what Gabriel needed to do. He was just like everyone else who stuck their head in the sand and never did anything. It was better—safer—to keep him in the dark. For now.

  It was Gabriel’s job to keep his brother safe. It’s what he’d been doing since they were little kids. A memory flashed through him: that day at the hover park seven years ago.

  The park was in a ritzy, upscale neighborhood, one much nicer than theirs. Gabriel and Micah didn't belong. And they weren't wanted. It was a mistake to go. A bigger mistake to bring his brother, who at twelve was still thin and gangly. He was too small, too vulnerable. The other boys sniffed hunger and need off them like a wolf pack detecting the weakest prey. The boys left Gabriel alone—at least physically.

  Four older, crueler boys had pushed Micah off the top of the cement half-pipe. He still remembered the agonizing shriek as Micah's small body tumbled against the unforgiving cement, his bare back and right shoulder scraping all the way down.

  Gabriel dropped his board and raced to Micah, gathering him in his arms and cradling him like a baby. “You're okay, you're okay.”

  But there was blood. So much blood, slick and wet on his hands and arms. Micah's chubby cheeks too pale, his breath coming in shallow gasps and whimpers.

  “We spray for cockroaches here,” taunted the biggest boy at the top of the half-pipe, a white kid with a hooked nose and ugly, hateful eyes. The others laughed and hurled their own insults.

  The boys' jeers ignited Gabriel’s brain with rage. He wanted to throttle them with his bare hands. To cave their skulls in with a swing of his board, or a baseball bat.

  But there was too much blood. He could see pink muscle beneath Micah's shredded skin. He needed a doctor, though their dad would only be able to afford the corner clinic, and even that would take a week of his salary.

  “I'm coming back for you!” He shot the boys one last murderous look, memorizing their faces. Then he took off for home, twenty-eight long blocks away. The merciless sun beat down on them. His brother's weight strained his arms and shoulders, his grip slipping on Micah's bloody skin.

  What he remembered most was the guilt stabbing him as every jarring, excruciating step caused Micah more pain. And the dull, threatening buzz of the neighborhood patrol drone following them down the street. Not because they were the victims. Because they were intruders.

  Gabriel went back for those boys, just like he promised. He’d cased the neighborhood for days, ferreting out the hidden camera and sensor locations, timing the drones, and stalking the lead bully, the kid with the hooked nose.

  He knew the consequences if the drones caught his revenge on their surveillance feeds. But he was patient. And he waited for his moment. Every time he came home from school and saw the wounds on Micah’s back, his resolve strengthened. His hatred sprouted, entwining with a dark and ugly rage.

  When the moment came, he didn’t hesitate. He beat the rich bastard with his own hover board, breaking the boy’s jaw in three places. Scratched and bruised, Gabriel came home that night with bloody knuckles and a loathing in his heart that only grew stronger each passing year.

  When Simeon found out, he took Gabriel under his wing, nurturing his hatred, his rage, and his skills. Until he was ready. Until today.

  Gabriel blinked back to the present. He pushed away his irritation. His brother was everything. “I'm sorry, man. I'm just stressed right now.”

  “No problem,” Micah said easily. And Gabriel knew it was. Micah would forgive him about anything.

  “Everything's fine, okay?” He made sure his voice was light and teasing. “You always worry too much.”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Just us?” Just us. You and me. The phrase they'd used since they were kids, when they took turns keeping watch at their mom's hospital bed, making sure she was still breathing. And still later, when their grief-stricken, drug-addicted father wouldn't drag himself off the couch anymore, not for the science fair or to throw a ball around the backyard, not even to make them dinner or breakfast before school. And still later, when it literally was just them, when no one else in the world gave a damn.

  They had each other's backs.

  Micah smiled. “Always.”

  5

  Micah

  Micah Ramos Rivera balanced the enormous tray on his shoulder and rushed from the hot, clanging galley through the swinging double doors into the Oasis dining room. He evaded another waiter coming toward him with a full platter and made his way to the captain's table in the center of the room. The music of the four-string quartet swirled over the hum of voices and the clink of silverware.

  The Oasis dining room was a flurry of glamorous efficiency. Waiters in tuxedos, white gloves, and brass name tags bustled around the dining room, taking orders from the exquisitely dressed guests. White linens draped the circular tables, adorned with fresh orchid centerpieces. Wine buckets stood ready and waiting. Dozens of crystal chandeliers hung from the three-story ceiling, dazzling like diamonds. And on either side of the dining room, the floor-to-ceiling windows offered spectacular views.

  At nineteen, Micah was one of the younger waiters, but he worked hard to earn his keep. The cabin he shared below deck with three other guys was cramped, the hours long, the work seven-days-a-week. The crew mess wasn't anything to brag about either, but there was usually rice and beans, fish, stew, and cooked veggies. The staff mess had better food; the officer mess the best. Gabriel always brought him his favorite mac and cheese.

  His stomach rumbled at the thought of a bowl of cheesy, gooey noodles. He'd take comfort food over shrimp and caviar any day. And at least on the ship, the food was real. Micah carried his tray to the captain's table, set each steaming plate in front of the correct guest, and whisked off the silver covers.

  “Your cream of sweet potato soup, Miss Black.” He’d memorized the captain’s guest list yesterday. The passengers appreciated it when he remembered Janice Lockwood didn't want butter with her mashed potatoes or Farhad Talebi preferred extra croutons on his
arugula salad.

  “Thank you,” Amelia Black said, glancing up with a half-smile. The glittery scales of her dress, the way it clung to her curves and flared at the ankles, reminded him of a mermaid's tail.

  He ducked his head and adjusted his glasses, embarrassment flushing through him. She was intriguing, with her almost luminous, porcelain skin, her brows and lashes white as rabbit fur. Her face was lovely but reserved, her eyes distant.

  “You're welcome.” He forced himself to tear his gaze away. He wasn't that type of guy. And he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, though she was probably plenty used to it.

  He moved to the next guest, removing the cover to reveal honey-glazed salmon with citrus avocado salsa, the avocado a delicacy even on the Grand Voyager. Micah averted his eyes, his stomach rumbling. He hadn't tasted an avocado in over four years.

  Captain Johannes Liebenberg touched his spoon to his wine glass. He was a fair-minded and friendly South African in his mid-fifties who took the task of entertaining guests of honor seriously. “We are proud of the great tradition of excellence this wonderful vessel so magnificently represents. And we are thrilled and honored to host the BioGen Health Summit for the sixth year running. May our partnership of luxury and business thrive for years to come.”

  “I'll add to that toast.” The girl's father, Declan Black, raised his goblet. “The universal flu vaccine is only the beginning, my friends. But first things first. Today, we celebrate the success of the National Health Day initiative. Forty million vaccines provided to the poor and needy over a five-day period: an unprecedented accomplishment. Vice President Sloane and I dedicated months to this endeavor, but so did many of you. Each of you played a role in this. We have much to be proud of.”

  “Here, here,” the others said, lifting their glasses.

  “More Château Le Pin, shall we?” Declan gestured at the near-empty wine bottle. He was the CEO of the big biotech company that invented that cancer cure. But only the rich reaped the rewards. The rest of humanity suffered and died if they couldn’t afford the steep price BioGen attached to a life. Giving away a bunch of flu shots didn’t make up for that. Micah bit the insides of his cheeks. He sounded bitter, like his brother.