“Your behavior,” she rages, “leaves a lot to be desired.”
Letta yanks the cable out of her arm quickly and surreptitiously pushes it back under the control panel where Claudia might not see it.
“What were you doing in here?” Claudia says, her manner heavy with new suspicion. The monitor is still on, all the Captain’s Log folders laid out in plain view.
Letta pinches herself, digging her nails into the soft flesh of her stomach hard enough to make her eyes water. She turns to face her aunt, her eyes spilling over, water coursing down her cheeks like genuine tears bred of sadness. She hunches over slightly, looking up at Claudia through her lashes, and sniffs.
“I just wanted to hear her voice again,” she whimpers, rubbing her hands over her face to wipe the fake tears away. The guards shift awkwardly in their places, looking anywhere but at Letta. It’s similar to the scene that unfolded outside the evacuation chamber only a short while ago, and Letta must control her urge to smirk at their obvious discomfort. Let them squirm. For all intents and purposes, they just spent the last half hour chasing down a grieving daughter.
But you are a grieving daughter.
The thought emerges loud and unbidden in Letta’s head. She pushes it down almost immediately. Right now she is a thief and a liar, and that is what she needs to focus on. It will have to do.
Letta takes a hesitant step toward Claudia, and she takes the bait. She wraps her arms around Letta, bringing her in close and squeezing her tightly. Letta presses her face into the crook between Claudia’s neck and shoulder and shakes her body as if racked by sobs.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Claudia murmurs into Letta’s hair. “I miss her too.”
There’s a tug deep between her ribs and her eyes begin to sting. She buries her face in closer. To Letta’s surprise, it’s actually comforting. She squeezes her eyes shut and gasps like she’s drowning. She shouldn’t feel this way, but she can’t help it. She can’t tell, now, if she’s playing a part or if this is reality. All she wants is for someone to scoop her up and tell her what to do. What is she supposed to do?
She pulls apart from Claudia, scrubbing her face viciously, and looks around for her mother. She would know what to do. She told her what to do before, and she can do it again.
Her father appears behind Claudia. He reaches out for Letta. She flinches as he strokes her cheek, and a flash of something like disappointment crosses his face. But it disappears as quickly as it came.
“Letta, I want you to visit the Med Center,” Claudia says in her most gentle voice, the one reserved for speaking with children or the elderly. “You don’t have to do it now—or even tomorrow—but I really think you could benefit from talking to someone, okay?”
“Unless, of course, you would prefer to talk to me...?” Her father trails off as Letta nods her head. She takes his hand and he squeezes it. She’s reminded of all the times she walked to the Education Center, hand in hand, with her father. They would pass by the observation deck and take a moment to look out the wide, clear windows at the universe beyond. Galaxies unfurling, being created and destroyed—it was all happening out there. The universe is infinite and ever-expanding, so why not imagine the inevitable?
Even at that age, she knew she was but one of thousands on board a tin can in a galaxy that did not care whether or not the human race survived. When Letta got too scared by these thoughts, when the black emptiness right outside seemed only to be the yawning maw of an unseen beast, he would take the time to squeeze her hand and tell her that everything would be okay. That he would protect her.
The gesture now brings up these same old feelings, but Letta can’t make herself trust them anymore. She just keeps nodding her head and hoping she won’t be punished.
“I’d like that,” she says, wondering if they can tell that every word is a lie.
“I don’t want your life to change, Letta,” Claudia continues as though neither Letta nor her father had spoken at all. “You and your father may both still live in the captain’s quarters.”
Letta can almost hear her father’s sigh of relief. She struggles to not recoil. He’s so desperate to remain in the best housing he’d sell himself out to Claudia. But Letta smiles broadly, because she knows that is what Claudia wants to see.
“Thank you so much, Claudia,” she replies in as sincere a voice as she can muster.
“I will, however, also be moving into the quarters. You understand, of course, Letta. One must live with their Genetic Partner, no? Eventually you’ll be given new rooms, but for now, we shall be together.” She runs a hand across Letta’s cheek, wiping away a tear that was not there.
“I agree,” her father says. “Families should be together in times like these.”
A knot tightens in the pit of Letta’s gut, and she feels nausea rear its ugly head inside her. She smiles brightly despite her sick stomach. If the price of staying in the rooms she grew up in is having to live with her mother’s murderer, Letta would rather live on Deck J by the recyclable sewage waste.
“Now, unfortunately, come the terms of your punishment,” Claudia goes on. “I’m afraid I cannot, in good conscience, let someone—even my own niece—get away with such insubordination.”
“Well, surely it’s understandable, Claudia,” her father interjects. “Everything that has happened in the last two days… It must have clouded her judgment.”
“Oh, relax, Grant.” Claudia smiles and pats Letta’s father on the arm like they’re old partners, like they’ve been together for years. Everything Claudia does seems to jab into Letta sharply, gouging like a knife with every gesture, however slight. “Letta, I’m confining you to our quarters until such time as you can compose yourself adequately in public.”
Letta’s face burns. The last time she was reprimanded like this was when she was fourteen years old and her mother caught her skipping class and goofing off in the halls with friends during inspection. She’s not a giggling schoolgirl now, but Claudia’s punishment has reduced her to one in an instant. She doesn’t even need to look at the guards’ faces to know that they are all smirking to one another. Not two days ago, she was performing troop inspections on them with her mother, and now she’s getting a dressing-down in front of them.
“Now, Officer Tess Pol will accompany you back to our floor and guard you once inside.”
Letta’s jaw clenches involuntarily. Of course it would be Tess to escort her. Just another way for Claudia to spy on her, sending her right-hand-man’s daughter to follow her around. She realizes that her hands have curled into fists, and she relaxes them quickly, smoothing them against her trouser legs. She grips the material to stop her hands from clenching into fists again and gives Claudia a curt nod.
Claudia smiles and it’s like she’s painted a target on her face, just begging Letta to punch it. She brushes past Claudia before her body does something she will only regret. Her father touches her arm softly as she leaves, but she can’t look at him right now. Even his touch makes her nausea worse.
Behind her she feels Tess’ presence, and, as if on cue, the girl marches up alongside Letta.
The two move toward the elevator on Deck B, Letta shuffling along at a snail’s pace so that Tess’ marching looks even more ridiculous. The pairing makes Letta bristle, and she knows it’s the same for Tess. The only difference is that Tess masks her emotions quickly, and Letta no longer cares how she appears. There is no point in remaining passive in the face of annoyance any longer. Only a captain needs to do that, and Letta has no chance of ever becoming that anymore.
She has no idea what she is anymore.
They ascend the elevator to the private Council floors on Deck A. Tess knows this place well; she used to live here with her father and brother before requesting cadet duty.
Tess exits the lift first, still playing the role of guard even though this floor is one of the most well-monitored on the ship. Letta tries to pass her, but Tess stops suddenly and her baton hums to life once again
.
“State your name, profession and access level,” she says clearly and slowly. Letta sidesteps around her and spots Tia leaning against the door to the captain’s quarters. She’s unmistakable in that navy jumpsuit that she never seems to want to take off, even though it’s spotted with oil marks. When Tia sees Letta she lifts her arm to her forehead in mock salute.
“I said, state your name, profession and access level,” Tess demands again. She steps forward, brandishing her baton as if she’s planning to beat the information out of Tia. Letta rolls her eyes and walks in front of Tess.
“It’s all right. I know her. Stand down, cadet.” She waves her down, but Tess doesn’t move.
“Ms. Hamilton, please stand behind me. It’s protocol. I need this information to verify your guest.”
Sensing Letta’s impending diatribe, Tia interjects, “It doesn’t matter, Lett. Honestly, it’s fine, really.” She shrugs her shoulders in a nonchalant manner, but Letta knows she’s embarrassed even if her face doesn’t turn red. She stands awkwardly in her dirty clothes, fidgeting, her hands anxiously tugging at her buttons, twisting them in and out of their holes. “My name is Tia Hilario—”
“I said, stand down, cadet,” Letta repeats, ignoring both Tess and Tia. She crosses her arms and positions herself between the two. Tia shifts restlessly behind her, and for a split second, a look of uncertainty flickers across Tess’ face; but it is swiftly replaced by that familiar expression of smug superiority that Letta recognizes even from when they were children in class.
“With all due respect, Ms. Hamilton, you are not the captain, and I do not take orders from you,” Tess asserts herself.
“With all due respect, Tess,” Letta says, forgoing the girl’s title on purpose and eliciting a dirty look from her, “I am still related to the captain, and you will do as I say or I’ll make sure you do nothing more than guarding the junior bathroom in the Education Center until you die. How does that sound? Do you want to be a bathroom attendant for the rest of your pathetic life?”
Tess hesitates. The hand holding the baton lowers just a tiny fraction, but it’s enough for Letta to feel safe enough to turn. She stomps to the door and scans her arm against the lock panel. The door glides open and she marches in, grabbing Tia by the arm and dragging her in after her.
“At least let me scan her ID band.”
“No chance. And you can wait out here. Maybe you’ll see your father! Now that would be an interesting conversation that I wouldn’t want to miss.” Letta scans her arm against the door again and it glides closed on the satisfying scowl on Tess’ face. Letta laughs gleefully and lets go of Tia.
“That was a bit harsh, Lett. Everyone knows she doesn’t get on with her dad,” Tia says, rubbing her arm.
“Everyone but her father, actually,” Letta says. “I wonder what he’d say if he saw her waiting outside. Maybe I should call him up…”
“If you did, he’d probably think it was a great honor bestowed upon his kid. He’s not going to know you refused to let her in.”
“Ugh, you’re right,” Letta groans, rolling her eyes.
“As per usual,” Tia says, laughing, and Letta smacks her playfully on the shoulder.
“Careful! Someone’s getting a big head now they’re in engineer core.”
“You can thank your mom for that!” Tia beams and Letta freezes. It dawns on Tia what she has said, and she clasps a hand over her mouth as if to catch the words. But they’re already out now, floating and twisting around Letta tightly.
“Oh, Lett, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Letta shrugs and pastes another mechanical smile on her face. She knows it probably looks rigid and uncomfortable, but she needs it there anyway. It’s like it’s protecting her.
“It’s fine. I know what you meant,” she says, brushing off Tia’s comments.
“I came up to apologize for not being at the funeral. They only allowed Decks A and B to attend…”
“I know, Tia. Look, it’s absolutely fine. I’m fine, everything’s fine.”
“You’re saying ‘fine’ a lot,” Tia points out. “Usually people who are fine don’t feel the need to say it over and over.”
Letta rolls her eyes again and throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, how else am I going to convince you? If I say I’m not fine, will you believe I’m fine?” she shouts, and regrets the outburst almost immediately. Tia just raises an eyebrow and purses her lips, crossing her arms firmly across her chest like a pouting child.
“I guess ‘fine’ is the word of the day,” she surmises, her lips twitching. The right side tugs up, and in return Letta feels her own lips turn up. Letta half-grins at Tia and in response Tia smiles back. It’s the only smile today that Letta has been glad to see. Letta leans over to Tia and pinches her oil-stained clothes.
“Not sure this is the most appropriate outfit to wear in your captain’s quarters. You are so covered in oil, it’s even on your face.” She giggles and points to a streak of black over Tia’s olive-colored cheek. Tia licks her hand and rubs it across her face, which only spreads the oil streak around.
“Did I get it?” she says, her entire right cheek now just a smudge of oil. Letta laughs and shakes her head.
“Not quite.”
Tia laughs, too, but there is something odd in her eyes. “You sure you’re ‘you-know-what’?”
Letta half-grins and nods. “I am. Really. Anyway,” she says, swiftly changing the subject, “I have something incredibly important to show you.”
“Oh, well, seeing as it’s incredibly important. If it was just important, I might not bother.”
Letta rolls up her sleeve. She turns to the comm-screen on the wall behind her, almost tripping over a small box as she does so.
“What the—” She looks around the room, seeing a few more boxes strewn across the floor. Two perch on the side of the dining table and another is shoved under the couch in front of the comm-screen. She sighs. These must be Claudia’s. Considering how fast she’d changed the access codes, Letta is surprised Claudia hadn’t moved in an hour before she’d even murdered her sister.
Letta breathes in sharply. Even thinking those words makes her angry.
She bends over the one nearest to her and presses the button on the side to open it. The lid unfurls, revealing a suction bag filled with material. Claudia’s clothes, she presumes. The box beside it, meanwhile, is packed with old-fashioned paper books. The titles mean nothing to her, but she picks one of them up anyway. There’s a name scrawled on the first page that’s difficult to read. Letta’s never been very good at reading handwriting. Not much cause to learn it. Very few people use anything other than the comm-screen keyboards, or the communication system in the ID bands, to write.
Despite this, Letta is sure the wide script is a name. She drags her finger underneath, trying to sound out each letter in her head as she goes. When she makes the name out, she almost drops the book.
It’s her mother’s.
She drops hard onto her knees and rips open the bag of fabric. They’re all her mother’s clothes. She opens another box and sees all the small velvet snap-lids containing her mother’s awards.
So this is what a life boils down to. All your achievements, all your accomplishments, fitting neatly in little boxes to be stored away and forgotten about.
“Are you okay?” Tia asks hesitantly. The constant questioning annoys Letta, but she reminds herself that Tia is just worried about her. She nods her head in affirmation and steps over the boxes, picking her way to the screen. She flicks it on and scans her arm, inputting the information wirelessly. The screen wavers and a box with Letta’s most recently downloaded files appears. She accesses the logs, and the playback function opens onscreen.
If she only had a comm-screen in her room. As it is, Claudia could walk in at any moment and there’d be no warning, since the housing chambers on this level are all soundproofed. But there’s no helping it. Letta opens the video she watched earlier,
and pauses it just as her mother opens her mouth to speak. She feels Tia move behind her and nudge her in the back.
“What is this?”
“The Captain’s Log. I, uh, borrowed it earlier,” Letta says sheepishly. She turns the volume up on the screen, her finger hovering over the play button.
“Hmm, ‘borrowed’—sure. Maybe I am rubbing off on you.”
“Something like that. Anyway, you won’t believe what I found,” Letta says. “Actually, you definitely won’t believe what I’ve been seeing for the past two days.”
Tia’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, reminding Letta of an image of a furry caterpillar. Tia would not appreciate this insight, though, so she keeps it to herself and presses play. The video starts just like before. Her mother states her name and speaks briefly of the nutritional vaccinations all residents are required to take, since there are only so many nutrients the human body can gather from modified crops and water that’s been recycled so many times that people joke that their glass of water is probably the same their great-great-great-grandmother drank.
“…However, the doctors have assured me that certain confidential experiments have been run and they are just waiting on the follow-up results.” Her mother stops suddenly once again and looks up at the camera.
“Watch this now,” Letta whispers, pointing to the screen. Her mother sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. This is where she spoke to Letta before. She waits for her mother to address her once more, eager to include Tia in the discovery. Her mother clears her throat.
“I have decided to include myself in the human trials. As captain, I cannot in good conscience request others to volunteer when I refuse to do so.” Her mother looks down, presumably at her desk, and Letta hears the rustle of papers and the clink of glass on glass. This is not what happened in the video before. This is not what’s supposed to happen.
Her mother finally finds what she was looking for and holds up a small vial filled with a thick orange liquid. There is something printed on the side of the vial, but it’s too small for the camera to pick up.
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