The Survivor

by Dylan Steel

  As she squatted down, she heard him mutter under his breath, “I doubt that.”

  Her cheeks flushed. She bit her lip and pretended not to hear him, grateful she was out of sight under the table. Running her finger along the base of the segment, she found the switch and flipped the power to the table back on.

  Sage popped back up, smoothing her shirt and teetering precariously, catching her balance. “Next time, just tell me you’re bored and need some company. You don’t have to be a giant to have trouble fitting down there.”

  “Eh, you’re small.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re missing my point here, Boulder,” she scolded him.

  “Which is?”

  Despite her resolve, she found herself smiling. “That you—”

  A couple officers turned down their hallway, their laughter drowning out what she’d been starting to say. Her skin started crawling as soon as she heard what they were saying to one another.

  “…shoved her up against the mirror and told her my questions could get answered in one of two ways.” He snickered.

  A low, approving whistle came from his friend. “You’d be happy either way.”

  The first officer howled, slapping him on the back. “Definitely. But I really wanted her to pick the second option. She looked pretty tasty.”

  “From how long that interrogation lasted, I figured you went for it.”

  “Man, I didn’t even have to try…”

  Sage felt the blood drain from her face as she pieced together the conversation she was hearing. She swayed on her feet, reaching out for the table to steady herself.

  Boulder’s eyes were on her. His expression darkened. Taking a couple quick steps behind her, he hollered into the hall, “Don’t be a pig, Jace. I’ve got a lady in here.”

  “Agh, sorry, B—”

  He slammed the door closed and flashed Sage a look of apology. “The men forget themselves sometimes.”

  She stiffened, lifting her chin. “Sometimes—when other people might be listening? Or sometimes—when they’re working?”

  “Sometimes,” he said simply, choosing not to clarify.

  “Oh.” She folded her arms over her chest to hide the fact that she was trembling.

  “Are they all like that?” she asked quietly, overwhelmed by a sense of fear coupled with despair. She pressed her lips together tightly, clenching the table even harder. She hadn’t mean to say that out loud.

  “Who? The officers?”

  Sage nodded.

  Boulder stared at her for a moment before answering. She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was more scared of what she’d see behind them or of what she might be unable to hide from him.

  “We’re all human,” he said gently. “And after pairing duties are done, some of the men do see it as a service to Eprah. We’ve had a few population crises over the years, and we all have to step up in different ways to do our part.”

  Her fingers dug into her ribs as her eyebrows shot up. “So you’re saying that Jace is just doing his part to help Eprah?”

  “Jace? Naw,” he frowned, “he’s just a trazk. He was already in the unit when I got here, and I can’t get rid of him because he’s throppin good at his job.”

  “Even if he’s a throppin trazk?”

  “Guess I need to watch my mouth around you, firecracker,” Boulder mumbled, grimacing. He nodded in response to her question. “But yeah, I think that’s what makes him so good at it.”

  “I see. And what do you think about officers ‘stepping up’ and doing their part?” she asked, ice spreading through her veins. She could barely hide how much she was trembling, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answer.

  “There was a time I agreed with them. It’s hard not to when you’re a newly vetted officer of the Peace,” he said honestly. Noticing the pallor on her face, he added hurriedly, “It’s not my way now, but there are bigger problems in this world than differing points of view.”

  “Differing points of view?” Sage managed to choke out. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “In general, they’re good men, just serving Eprah in their own way.” He shrugged, seeming to have accepted that this was just the way things had to be.

  “That doesn’t serve anyone but themselves,” Sage spat, unable to stop herself.

  “Look,” Boulder said, ruffling a hand through his hair uncomfortably, “this isn’t exactly how I thought this would go.”

  “No?” She snorted. “You didn’t expect me to have a problem with the officers in your department?”

  His expression hardened. “I don’t expect you to have a problem with the officers in my department,” he affirmed gravely. “But I think we should try this again another time when Jace isn’t around.”

  “Right,” she said coolly. “Or any other trazks you have on staff.” Shifting her weight, she spared another glance at his tech table. “Well, I think everything’s in order here. Unless you have some other tech problems you need help with…”

  Boulder shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with my tech.”

  “Great. Then I’ll see you later,” she said, spinning on her heel.

  “Sage… wait. Please.”

  She paused with her hand on the door. Squeezing her eyes shut, she refused to face him again, bracing herself for whatever he might say next.

  “I—” He let out a frustrated sigh. “If any of them ever give you any trouble, you just mention my name.” The earnestness in his tone almost made her regret how angry she’d gotten at him. Almost. “Got it, firecracker?”

  “Got it, Boulder.” Her shoulders sagged a little. She shot him a final glance over her shoulder, her expression softening a little at his obvious concern for her well-being. “Thanks.”

  Holding in the urge to scream, she pushed open the door and walked to the Transfer as calmly as she could. As soon as the door slid closed in front of her—once she was sure she was alone—she leaned her head against the wall and allowed a single tear to escape, falling for the woman who didn’t have a Boulder watching out for her.

  10. UNOFFICIALLY SPEAKING

  “He really said that?” Sage laughed as she scrubbed the dirt off another potato.

  “I know. I couldn’t believe it either.” Everett snorted, rubbing the back of his wrist under his nose so he didn’t cut himself with the knife he was holding. “It’s like he thought I could just walk up to the Quorum and ask them to give him a commendation.”

  “Well, why not?” Sage said with faux seriousness.

  “Ah, sure,” Everett said. “The conversation would go like this: ‘Um, hi, Venerable Rufius. I know you don’t know me, but I have a question for you. Oh—who am I? I’m the guy behind all your favorite lunches. Or I was, two weeks ago. Remember that really awesome sandwich? I’ve been promoted to manually updating the legal logs since—never mind. Anyways, what I really wanted to know was if you could give this guy a commendation for fathering five children in the span of three months. He’s waiting in the lobby for your answer. Oh. No? He just gets his bonus Chances. Right. Uh, ok, then. Sorry to bother you.’”

  Sage shook her head. “That’s so strange.”

  “Definitely.” Everett nodded. “But I really didn’t want to argue with him—I mean, at the rate he’s going, the guy’s gotta have a ton more Chances than me.”

  Despite his lighthearted tone, Sage’s expression clouded when she thought about what he’d just said. It was her fault that Everett didn’t have any extra Chances yet, and it would be her fault if he wound up being reduced to one Chance as a result of failing at their pairing duty.

  “Hey,” he said soothingly when he noticed the look on her face. He rested a hand on her shoulder, looking her squarely in the eye. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to make you upset. It was just supposed to be funny.”

  “I know, I just…” She stopped, blowing out a slow breath. “It’s my fault that you have to worry about th
at right now.”

  “I told you. I’m not worried. You can take the time you need—all of it, if that’s what you decide.” A muscle jumped in Everett’s jaw as he added, “But it’s not your fault. You’re not the one making the rules here.”

  “Everett,” Sage whispered imploringly, “you shouldn’t say that.”

  “Why not?” He shrugged. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not,” she snapped. “There are just some things you shouldn’t—”

  A high-pitched tone sounded, letting them know there was an incoming message. They both stopped what they were doing and turned toward the center of the room. Eprah’s generic messenger avatar—which happened to be a tall, pinch-faced brunette—shimmered into view directly beneath the black hemisphere on the ceiling.

  The avatar faced the kitchen, her hollow stare piercing the space between them as she began speaking in a lilting voice. “Sage Indarra. There is a message for you.”

  Sage sighed. “Accept.”

  “As a valued citizen, your presence is required at a private meeting this evening. Dinner will be at 7:00 at La N’bo. Thank you for your continued service to Eprah.”

  Sage’s eyes grew larger when she saw the Kunbriat’s twisted symbol quickly flash in and then out of view the end of the message, just as the avatar disappeared. It was so fast, she’d nearly missed it. She glanced at Everett to see if he’d noticed, but he wasn’t acting like he had. He’d already turned his attention back to the vegetables on the counter.

  “See? You don’t get a lot of say in what you do,” Everett muttered, hacking at a wayward carrot before it could roll off the counter.

  Sage ignored the comment, quickly changing the subject before he could start ranting about Eprah’s unfairness again. “I guess you get some extra dinner tonight,” she said, turning back to him.

  “Me?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one invited to a second dinner,” he said, jabbing his knife in the direction of the carrots. “You can grab some of this before you go. You know, in case La N’bo isn’t all that great.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’ll be awful,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she swatted him on the arm. La N’bo was one of the nicest restaurants in the city. She had no idea why the Kunbriat would want her to go there.

  “So your work must be going better than mine.” Everett shot a sideways glance in her direction.

  “Huh?”

  “At the Peace,” he clarified. “No one at the Cabinet would want me to go to a dinner at La N’bo.”

  “Oh. Right.” Sage bit her lip. “I’m not sure if…” she trailed off, realizing it was easier to let him believe she was going for work rather than a meeting with a club she couldn’t admit even existed.

  “I’m sure it’s a good thing,” Everett said reassuringly, mistakenly assuming she was worried. “I mean, La N’bo,” he said dramatically.

  “You’re right,” she said, not bothering to correct him. “Which means I should probably look nicer than this,” she laughed wryly, looking down at herself.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look,” he said, winking as he slid carrot slices into the pan. “But you might prefer to adhere to their dress code.”

  The corner of Sage’s mouth pursed in mock disapproval. “That’s what I meant.” She tossed her share of the veggies in the pan too, then ran into the bedroom to change.

  “I wasn’t joking before. I really don’t mind splitting this with you before you leave,” Everett said, scraping a spoon against the bottom of the pan.

  “It’s fine. Really. I’m too nervous to eat anything right now anyways,” she replied honestly. “Besides, I’m not getting near the kitchen in this outfit,” she called over her shoulder as she pulled out one of the nicest dresses she owned. It was simple—navy and knee-length, and far more conservative than what she’d worn to the Kunbriat-exclusive club Perjaash. Like the other dress, she’d bought it at Nic’s insistence. Her chest tightened. She exhaled slowly as she filed the memory back in the recesses of her mind. She didn’t need any reminders of what she’d lost, but she did need to wear something appropriate tonight.

  “Plus,” she continued, slipping on a pair of silver heels as she stumbled back into the living room, “I don’t have much time before I need to leave. It’s halfway across town.”

  Everett stopped mid-stir and stared at her. “Wow.”

  Sage felt her cheeks redden. “La N’bo,” she said simply, shrugging. She wasn’t used to seeing him look at her like that.

  He raised his eyebrows, not taking his eyes off her. “I never wished I worked at the Peace before, but I’m starting to think it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “This is nothing like going to work,” she retorted, twisting her hair and pinning it into a quick updo. One final glance in the mirror, and she took a few steps toward the door. She stopped, fixing Everett with a serious look. “Oh, and if there are any leftovers from tonight, make sure you add extra sauce before you put it away. You always make it way too dry,” she teased, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

  He shook his head slightly, grinning. “For you, Sage, I’ll make it extra saucy.”

  Her mouth gaped open a little in surprise as her cheeks flushed once more. Had he just—was he flirting with her? Worse, had she encouraged it somehow?

  Snapping her mouth shut, she yanked the door open. “I have no idea how late I’ll be. Don’t bother waiting up,” she said sharply, trying to squelch whatever had just happened between them. The door slammed closed loudly behind her as her heels clicked down the hall.

  What in Eprah’s name had just happened?

  ***

  “Name?” The man at the door looked down his nose, clearly expecting to be disappointed by her answer.

  “Sage Indarra. I was told to—”

  The man held up his hand, halting her mid-explanation as he flicked through information on his databook screen. “Yes, I have you right here. Please come with me.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, following his snobbery through a set of double crystal doors into the elite La N’bo.

  It was instantly obvious why the place was so highly revered—and why it would basically never be visited by anyone of her station. Soaring ceilings, sparkling chandeliers, luxurious linens—the room wasn’t that large, but it was more impressive than the Grand Hall and was filled with more beautiful things than she’d seen anywhere else in the city.

  Sage rubbed her bracelet self-consciously as she looked around. She knew instinctively that she had the fewest Chances of anyone in the room. This place was dripping with danger wrapped in a facade of beauty.

  Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell on a couple across the room. Pippa. She was sitting with her benefactor, Edward Grayson—the same one who’d controlled Rosalind and then slaughtered her after she’d fulfilled her purpose. Sage’s heart twisted inside her chest as she tried not to show how alarmed she was. She turned her head, hoping Pippa hadn’t spotted her. As much as she wanted to, there was nothing she could do to help Pippa, and inserting herself into their relationship would probably wind up hurting them both while leaving Grayson unscathed.

  “Here you are, madame.” The man had ushered her to a secluded corner of the room, largely hidden from the other patrons. He bent at the waist and swept his arm forward in a lofty flourish, but his eyes weren’t any more welcoming than they had been outside.

  Sage nodded, keeping her chin lifted high as she took a seat. Something told her that weakness would not be tolerated within these walls, and she didn’t particularly want to test her theory by showing how terrified she was.

  Whoever had summoned her for a Kunbriat meeting hadn’t shown yet. Outwardly, she was a model of serenity, but inwardly, her heart was slamming against the walls of her chest. Hidden under the table, her hands twisted together nervously. She wanted nothing more than to run back out through the fancy doors she’d just entered, but she fo
rced herself to remain in her seat.

  “You came.” A voice spoke from over her shoulder.

  Her eyes widened with recognition. She stiffened, refusing to turn around. “I wasn’t aware it was an option not to,” she said quietly.

  Nic slipped into the chair across from her. His gold eyes were filled with pain as he looked at her. “I didn’t think you’d come if you knew it was me asking.”

  She dropped her gaze, choosing to stare at the space between them. “You’re probably right,” she murmured.

  “You look beautiful tonight,” he said. Then, when it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything, he added, “We need to talk.”

  “Really? Because I have nothing to say to you.” She pursed her lips.

  “Don’t, Sage.” He shook his head. “Don’t freeze me out.”

  She reached for her glass, running a finger over its rim. “Sounds like you think this is my fault.”

  He winced. “Of course not. I—”

  A young woman approached the table, setting down two large silver dishes piled high with ornately layered food. “Tonight’s first course,” she said meekly, giving them a slight bow as she backed away.

  Sage stared at the meal in front of her. First course? This plate alone could feed her for three days. Her stomach churned uneasily. “Nic, there’s no way I can afford this place.”

  “I’m not asking you to,” he said in a husky voice, taken aback. “I just wanted to show you—I didn’t want you to think that I…” he stammered, unable to finish. “You matter to me. More than Carnabel.”

  A hollow ache ripped at her chest, making it difficult to breathe. “You have a funny way of showing it,” she replied bitterly.

  “I’m sorry you saw us together like that at the club.” Nic’s face twisted in anguish. “I wanted to tell you—”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything now. There’s no need to prove anything to me. Not anymore.” She forced herself to sit a little taller and look him directly in the eye. “I know you’re with her. I’ve accepted that. Whatever obligation you feel you have to me, you don’t need to worry about it. We’re done.”