“No. I don’t care about that anymore. I’ve just been having bad dreams.” That’s the easiest way to explain what she has been seeing. But her mother’s ghost is more than a bad dream. Dreams, like shadows, disappear come morning. What Letta has been seeing is more like a demon. A demon that will not leave her alone.
But part of her does not want it to.
“Bad dreams,” Rosa says. “Well, we have sleeping pills for that. You can pick them up on your way out.” Letta’s not sure, but she thinks she can detect a note of disappointment in her tone. But she moves on. “So, tell me, how are your dates with your Genetic Partner?”
Letta thinks about her encounter with Phell in alarm, but relaxes when she remembers that even they couldn’t have heard about what happened in the elevator yet.
“They’re not exactly ‘dates,’ are they?” she scoffs. Calling them “dates” was just the pathetic attempt of a Councilperson, long since dead, to replicate the mating rituals on Earth. Dates had been useful there, since you could pick and choose who you went out with. But here? There’s no choice. You just have to go along with it.
Rosa laughs. “They were dates for Lida and I! Do you remember our first one?” She nudges Lida.
“Ha, yeah. It was during my transition. You were the first person I told my new name to.”
“And now we’ve got this lovely coming along!” Rosa rubs her stomach fondly and Lida smiles, reaching over to place a hand on Rosa’s.
“Yeah, well, you two actually like each other. Phell couldn’t be more different than me.”
“That’s just Phell. He’s shy. And you don’t have to like your Partner anyway. You just have to reproduce with them. Just get your breeding out of the way early, and then you can spend your time with whomever you want. That’s what most people do, anyway.”
“True. You could be with Tia, if you wanted.”
“What do you mean? Tia and I are not—I’m not interested in her. Though I can tell by your smirks you don’t believe me. I’m not interested in anyone. I don’t want to be with anyone.”
Lida holds her hands up. “All right, no need to jump down our throats.” She chuckles. “Though I think someone needs to do a different kind of jumping down a certain someone’s throat.”
Letta clenches and unclenches her fist. Why does everyone think she’s going to attack them? You poke a guy one time and suddenly you’re labeled violent.
Rosa says, “Okay, hon, but the library is holding a film screening tonight, and that would be a really fantastic place to go with Phell. Why not give him a chance? You might find you actually like him. We’re going, aren’t we, Lida?”
“Yes, and I know for a fact your father and aunt are going too, Letta. She said as much when she dropped off the vaccines yesterday.”
That catches Letta’s attention. “Are there many going?” she asks.
“Well, it’s in the upper library, so only Decks A to C are permitted, thankfully.” Lida muses. “Why do you ask?”
An idea creeps along inside Letta’s mind. Decks A to C hold a lot of people. If Letta exposes what Claudia has done in front of all those people, they will have to pay attention. Claudia can’t order everyone into confinement.
Letta slides off the edge of the table and runs a hand through her hair, her fingers getting tangled in the knots. If Claudia is there, it will be the perfect time to out her. She has the proof. She has the video. She just needs to show it to everyone. Tia will help her.
“Can I leave now?” she asks.
The two women shrug in unison. It’s always so strange when they do things like that. They are so in tune with each other, it is sometimes like they are just one person.
“I don’t see why not. But if you are going tonight, ask your G.P. You know it is our duty to—”
“Yeah, yeah, ‘our duty to reproduce’. Can I have my clothes back now?”
Rosa purses her lips. “Fine, go. Lida, will you get her clothes for her? I can’t reach down, not with this belly.”
Lida pulls out the suction bag with Letta’s uniform folded neatly inside.
“Oh, and don’t worry, Letta. We won’t repeat any of this to your family,” Lida says as she hands the bag over.
“Fine, great.” Letta wrestles her clothes out of the bag, no longer paying attention to either Rosa or Lida. The two women dip out of the pod and Letta tugs her clothes on. Then she opens her contacts on her comm and scrolls down to Tia’s name. Her finger hovers over the call button, unsure, but she ultimately presses forward.
“What do you want? I’m working.” Tia’s voice is tetchy, and Letta knows instantly that she’s not been forgiven for her outburst last night.
“I know how we can out Claudia,” Letta explains eagerly. “You have to meet me in the library tonight.”
“You don’t have any proof. If a ghost’s testimony is all you’re going on, then you’ve got nothing. I mean, you don’t even know how she died.”
“I have an idea. And I also have the Captain’s Log. That’s all I need right now.”
“That doesn’t prove anything. The video cuts off before anything useful happens.”
“But Claudia doesn’t know that.” Letta lets this idea wash over Tia, dousing her in its brilliance. Claudia will corner herself with minimal help. “Let’s see her escape the truth then.”
❦
For once, the library floor is buzzing with activity. The shelves, with their multitude of organic books, are pushed to the far walls to make room for the stools dragged here from the canteen by the overworked servers. The Main Deck would have been better equipped to deal with such a large influx of people, but the library is in possession of a far superior projector.
Letta leans over the railings from the topmost level of the library. Behind her, Tia is setting up the projector. The log has already been swapped in for whatever movie was to be shown. All that’s left now is for Letta to be on the lookout for Claudia’s arrival.
“I still don’t see how this is going to work,” Tia says, her voice muffled. She’s hoisted the projector up just high enough to see underneath, and is busy fitting cables into their spots.
“Just trust me. And remember to shut off the video before it loops around again. Claudia’ll give herself away. I know she will.”
“But what if she doesn’t?”
“She will. She has to.”
Tia gives no reply to Letta’s unwavering determination. Out of the corner of her eye, Letta sees the gray head of C.p. Pol bent low in conversation with Claudia. Letta’s father follows behind them as the three walk through the crowd toward the elevated seats just underneath Letta. She leans even further out over the railing.
“Claudia! Oh, Claudia!” she calls in a singsong voice. Several people in the crowd strain their necks to see her, and Letta waves at each in turn. Claudia skims the room and Letta laughs, a barking sort of sound. “Up here, Claud!”
Her father, Pol and Claudia all lean back to see her. Her father claps his hands together and calls her down. Letta swings around the railing and dashes down the slim spiral staircase, taking the steps two at a time. She stops, breathless, inches from Claudia.
“It’s wonderful to see you in such high spirits, love,” her father beams, “isn’t it, Claudia?”
“Indeed it is, Grant.” She, too, smiles then. “I take it your appointment earlier went well? No more bad dreams, I hope.”
Letta clenches her jaw. “Oh, it went very well indeed. It’s where I got the idea to come here!” She sweeps her arms out, smacking Pol squarely in the chest. He grunts and moves to sit down. Taking his cue, both Claudia and Letta’s father go to take their seats.
“Come sit by me, Letta,” her father says, patting the empty stool beside him. It’s only two away from Claudia, and if she sits there, she won’t be able to see Claudia’s reaction when the log is shown instead of the film. She scans the room, looking for somewhere else to sit. She spots Lida helping Rosa. Rosa catches her eye, waving maniacally an
d gesturing to the right. Letta turns her head in that direction and spies Phell entering the library all by himself.
“I can’t,” Letta grins. “I’ve already promised Phell I’d join him.” She skips through the crowd, excitement bubbling up inside her the closer and closer it gets to the time for the movie to start. She sidles up to Phell, looping her arm though his. He jolts with surprise, but she grips him even tighter.
“Phell! There you are! I was beginning to think I would have no one to watch this with.” She rests against him. “Shall we get a private booth?”
“Uh, there are no private booths. Those are just kitchen chairs.”
“Good eye, Phell. I was only joking.” She leads him to the row of seats closest to one of the bookshelves. “Let’s sit here.” She sits down and looks at her aunt and father. Her father nods in their direction and leans toward Pol whispering conspiratorially.
It’s a good view, but not quite right. Letta leaps to her feet and moves two chairs down, dragging Phell so forcefully he nearly falls into her lap. She barks another laugh, a strange, manic sound that is becoming as familiar as breathing to her.
“You’re very happy this evening,” Phell notes, positioning himself beside her. He wriggles in her vice-like grip, then resigns himself to the fact she is not letting go of him any time soon.
“Well, why wouldn’t I be?” she proclaims, just loud enough for Claudia and her father to overhear. “Just look how happy my family is! And my mother’s corpse hardly cold!”
Those that overhear her halt in their conversations, straining their ears to pick up any gossip. A fixed smile is plastered on Claudia’s face, but she tics her head to the side like a dog listening to an inaudible sound.
Pol stands up abruptly, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Perhaps we should roll the film now.”
“Yes!” Letta shouts. She leans back, cupping her mouth with her hands to make her voice carry farther. “Tia! Put the movie on for these lovely people!”
Tia’s head pops over the railings and she gives a big thumbs up to a scattering of applause. The hum of conversation dims as the overheads do and a square of blue light appears on the bleached far wall. There’s a low rustle as people settle where they sit. Letta clutches Phell’s arm even tighter, leaning against him, constantly flicking her eyes from the wall to Claudia and back again.
Without warning, the face of Letta’s mother fills the screen. Letta watches with gleeful abandon as Claudia freezes to her spot, one of her legs poised in midair to cross over the other.
“Captain’s Log. Date: the sixteenth day of the eighth month of the year two thousand five hundred and fifty two. Tenth Captain Leticia Hamilton,” her mother rattles off. Letta mouths along with every word, fixing a steady glare on Claudia.
Claudia springs to her feet just as Letta’s mother looks up to greet the Claudia in the video. Tia stops it just before it loops around again. Everyone in the audience is whispering in confusion. Letta raises her voice to be easily heard above the hushed mutterings.
“What’s wrong, Claudia? You have something you want to get off your chest?”
Claudia glares at Letta with such anger that a twinge of fear rises within her.
“I merely feel lightheaded, niece. You are not the only one affected by Leticia’s death. Did you not think that perhaps we would not want to see this? That your father would not be ready to see his late Partner?” Claudia scrambles for Letta’s father’s hand and holds it tightly. Her father’s head is turned away, but she can see his free hand is pressed to his face. In a flash, a flood of guilt ripples throughout her body.
“Can someone please turn the lights back on?” Claudia asks.
“The lights! Someone turn on the godforsaken lights!” Pol booms. The room brightens immediately, dazing the audience with its intensity. When Letta’s eyes have adjusted, she sees her father gliding out the doors nearest the Deck A elevator, pursued by C.p. Pol.
Letta pushes Phell away. He stumbles, looking hurt. She ignores him. Focusing on the floor, Letta spots an e-baton. It must have fallen from the hand of one of the Law Officers in their race to leave the library. She bends down and picks it up. It feels heavy and powerful in Letta’s hand. It sparks and buzzes when she turns it on. She scans the room and sees Claudia leaving via another door, the crowd spilling out after her.
This is Letta’s chance. She can follow Claudia, corner her, and finally get her to admit to what she has done.
She starts toward the doors, anger burning like fire in her veins. She wants to wrap her hands around Claudia’s throat and hear her aunt’s last breath leave her lungs in a choked sigh. Or press the electric baton against her skull and watch her brain boil and melt. But people will have seen Letta follow Claudia into the corridor. They already all think badly of her, disrupting the first good event since the funeral. She kills Claudia and then what? Claudia is the victim. Letta becomes the murderer. Claudia’s memory will usurp Letta’s mother. She’ll be commemorated forever as the shortest-reigning captain, whose career was cruelly cut short by a wicked, selfish girl.
As Letta hesitates, Claudia disappears into the surge. It would take too long to find her now. Letta’s decision is made for her. She turns the baton off and lets it hang by her side.
Lida emerges from the crowd beside Letta and tugs her sleeve. “Your father is incredibly disappointed in you. He wants to talk to you in his quarters.”
Letta pulls away from Lida’s grasping hands. “What about these people? They all came to see a movie.”
“I think you’ve ruined that for everyone, don’t you?”
“I don’t know—maybe you and Rosa could get up and tell a story for us all. You’re very good at making up stories, aren’t you? Not so much at keeping secrets, though. At least not if there’s nothing in it for you.”
Lida gapes at her. “Don’t speak to me like that!”
“I’ll speak to liars however I see fit,” Letta spits. “I know you’re been talking to Claudia about me. How else would she have known about my nightmares?”
Lida’s face drains of color as she sputters out some excuse. Letta brushes off her arm, as if she could rub away the taint of Lida’s touch the way she would a piece of lint. Then, ignoring Lida, she picks her way through the abandoned chairs.
Letta half-jogs, half-walks down the corridor back to her family’s quarters. When she scans herself in, the first thing she notices is that the main room is dark. The only light is a sliver shining through the seal on her parents’ bedroom door. Murmurs of hushed conversation drift out from inside.
“Dad!” she tips her head back and yells. “Dad! Who are you talking to?”
Her hand tightens around the baton, and her finger slides the switch on once again. The low buzzing sounds like a blue-bottle fly. She knocks on the bedroom door.
“Dad? You wanted to speak to me?”
There’s movement inside and then her father opens the door. “I’m about to go to bed,” he says, though he’s still fully dressed. “I can’t talk to you right now. Even looking at you is making me angry.”
“Is there someone in there with you? I’m sure I heard someone.”
“Why would there be someone in here?” her father questions. But Letta notices the door to the bathroom is open, and then Letta hears the shower start, followed by vibrant cursing.
“I knew someone was in here!” she crows triumphantly. “Is it Claudia?” She brandishes the baton and her father leaps out of her way. There’s a large, dark figure behind the opaque shower glass. The shower is still running, the sound of water masking Letta’s footsteps.
It could be Claudia. The more Letta stares at the shadow, the more convinced she becomes that it is Claudia. She grabs the edge of the shower glass and yanks it back. Pol is slumped against the shower wall, soaking wet but completely dressed. He gapes at her as pathetic as a drowned kitten. She stumbles back in surprise, and the baton flings from her hand, colliding with his chest. The baton emits a frighte
ningly loud screech, and Pol shakes violently. He slips, banging his head against the temperature gauge before collapsing in a heap on the floor.
“What did you do?” her father whispers behind her.
“I didn’t mean to! I thought he was Claudia,” she whimpers, trembling. “Why was he hiding in the shower?!”
“We didn’t want you to see him. I didn’t think you’d go into the bathroom. I told him to hide there. He must have leaned against the on-button by mistake.” Her father speaks quietly and with little inflection. “We were discussing you. We didn’t want you to know.” He presses his palm to his cheek. “Oh, God. This is all my fault.”
Suddenly, her father seizes her by the shoulder and yanks her back, away from the body. He pulls her into the bedroom and shuts the bathroom door, but it doesn’t matter. All Letta can see is that heap of skin and clothes lying there, not moving. The screech of the baton echoing and echoing inside her ears like a macabre soundtrack. He didn’t even make a human sound as he fell.
“Letta, I don’t know where you got this idea that your aunt somehow hurt your mother, but it’s ridiculous. Do you think so little of me that you believe I would let her killer go free?” Her father shakes her vigorously. “She killed herself, Letta. No matter how many people you accuse, that fact will never change.”
“She didn’t leave a note. If she had killed herself, she would have left a note,” Letta whispers, biting her lip. Her father sighs and tries to wrap his arms around his daughter, but she wriggles out from under him.
“I know how she died, Dad. It was Claudia. Didn’t you see the video? That was the last time anyone saw her. She looked happy.”
“You don’t have to appear visibly sad to be depressed. It’s not a cartoon emotion.”
“Don’t you see?” Letta goes on, barely even paying attention to her father now. “She was the first person to get the new nutritional vaccination. That wasn’t a vaccine, it was poison! It had to be! Why else would Mom, the first person to take it, die? Why don’t you believe me?” Her voice hitches as she reaches a hysterical pitch and a sob catches in her throat like a swollen lump.
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