The Creative Fire: 1 (Ruby's Song)

by Brenda Cooper

  Marcelle said, “We were talking about that this morning. About power.”

  Onor, still standing, bounced on his feet. “It doesn’t seem to be the blues all the time either. Sometimes it’s the blues in power, sometimes it’s the reds.”

  Conroy looked the tiniest bit proud of him. “Good. That’s what you have to understand. Influence. Power. The ability to tell other people what to do. Something you don’t have any of. Zero.”

  Ouch.

  Marcelle gaped at Conroy for the space of a breath, but she was obviously thinking fast; she got the perfect question out before Onor thought of it. “Are there grays with power?”

  The Jackman and Conroy didn’t say a thing.

  “Ruby thinks she’s one,” Onor whispered.

  The Jackman nodded. “That idea might kill her. She’s wrong.”

  “What if Fox saves her?” Marcelle asked.

  The Jackman laughed out loud, no gentleness in this laugh. Just a slight derision.

  Onor liked that. Damn Fox for existing anyway, and for becoming so big in Ruby’s imagination. Stupid romantic girls. He’d been beside her the day the sky fell, and his memory of Ruby pushing herself on Fox was different from how she remembered it. She remembered Fox responding, and Onor hadn’t seen that. “It won’t happen,” Onor said.

  Marcelle looked at him like he’d betrayed Ruby. “How do you know?”

  “She’s gotta be a kid to him.”

  Marcelle scowled. “You know shit about men.”

  The Jackman cleared his throat. “The power on this ship isn’t scared of you, or Ruby, or for that matter even of me. Not by ourselves. We’re not much bother at all. Except in a large group. That’s what they’re scared of. Losing us all.” He let a moment’s silence pass, the look on his face discouraging Onor and Marcelle from speaking. When he judged that his previous words had sunk in, he nodded. “There’s a history there, a time before when things changed on this ship. I haven’t quite figured it out, but I someday I’ll understand. We all need to. So we don’t make whatever mistake those poor buggers made.”

  For a moment, Onor felt all the generations on the ship, all the people who had lived and died in her, as if he rode with them all. He couldn’t say if it was good or bad luck to be part of the generation that would bring The Creative Fire home.

  The Jackman’s next words dragged his focus back into the room. “I told you Ruby would get you in trouble. And she has. If you’re not careful, if you don’t make her stop,” he glanced at Marcelle, “if you don’t stop yourselves, you’ll end up dead. They’ll kill Ruby at least, but maybe all of you.”

  The Jackman meant his words.

  Onor paced, angry. He couldn’t stand up to the men, and he didn’t have any idea what to say, much less what to think. There wasn’t much room, so he paced, three steps one way, three the other, almost dizzying himself.

  Marcelle stuck her lower lip out. “Tell me who they is.”

  Conroy’s words came out sharp with frustration. “Figure it out, little girl.”

  Marcelle’s eyes widened. For once she didn’t have a snappy reply.

  A knock on the door broke the awkward silence. The Jackman opened it, letting Ruby in. Her red hair had been caught back in a blue scarf, and at least seven strands of blue beads hung over her gray uniform shirt. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes bright.

  Ruby looked surprised at the silence that met her. Then The Jackman smiled in greeting and said, “Come in,” and Conroy introduced himself, even though they’d met before. At least they’d each talked about the other. Maybe they hadn’t actually met.

  Ruby settled into a chair opposite Onor, and he sat beside Marcelle. Conroy leaned against the wall on one side of Ruby, and The Jackman took the other side.

  Ruby didn’t seem to notice the tension. “So,” she started in. “I was thinking that we should maybe show the students the vid Onor found. With Lila Red. But I’m not sure how to do that and not get caught. We can’t just send it to everyone’s journals. Ix’ll strip it, and we’ll probably lose it altogether.” She looked at The Jackman, at Conroy, at Onor.

  None of them said anything.

  “We should at least show it to some others. Then they’ll believe. I don’t think most people think Lila Red’s even real, and now we know.” She forged ahead, talking fast. “Lila’s story was history, and we should all know it. But they never taught it in school—” She broke off, as if the silence had finally sunk in. “So what’s wrong?

  Conroy spoke. “Rumor is you’re drawing too much attention. I heard there’s three crack peacers assigned to stop you.”

  Ruby looked up at him, blinked, and then reset her features into stubborn lines. “So I guess I need to stay in public. The last-years test is only a week away. I can manage that.”

  Marcelle nodded, but she looked uncertain.

  Onor held his tongue, proud as hell of Ruby even though his stomach twisted at the idea that people might be trying to hurt her, might be trying to find her right now. He glanced at his old boss. “Where’d you hear that?”

  Conroy just grunted. “From a friend that heard I might be looking after you.”

  Onor felt puzzled. “Me?”

  “Yeah.” He turned to Ruby. “I don’t much want you hurt either, but Onor here was handy in the rec plant. I’d like him around to help me in the future.”

  Onor protested, “But I care about her!”

  “Shhh . . . ,” The Jackman said. He stepped closer to Onor and whispered in his ear. “Think, Onor. Don’t waste yourself the way your parents did.”

  Onor clenched his jaw. They were gone. Ruby was still here, still beside him. He went and stood beside her, focusing on the brilliant highlighted reds in her hair and the way her lips pursed tight with determination. She practically quivered with focus.

  He wanted to put a hand around her waist, but he didn’t.

  As The Jackman stood there watching them, he grew a little softer in the face and pulled on his beard. “Look, we don’t know what happens if you do succeed.” He was looking at Ruby, but Onor knew The Jackman’s words were really for him. “Think about history. Think about the video we saw, Lila Red and her people right before they died. Whatever power they crossed, whatever waits inside the ship, was enough to kill adults who understood it. Lila Red had access to more of the ship than we do, wasn’t gray, never was gray. She understood more than us by far, and chose to risk her life.” He stopped for a long breath, but before Ruby could protest he said, “Take some time. If you haven’t already got yourself in trouble past a beating, you have years. Spend them learning instead of fighting like a robot in a cage. No matter what you think, you’re still a child.”

  “For a week.”

  The Jackman shook his head slowly, as if he were talking to a three-year-old. “Well, I wouldn’t be brave enough to do what you’re doing. I’m not brave, I’m old. Brave people die.”

  “Fine,” Ruby said. “I’ll die if I have to.”

  Conroy sounded extremely patient as he said, “We’re trying to help you.”

  “So help me figure out how to play that vid Onor found. I want to show it to my friends.”

  Conroy look at Onor. “Is she always this stubborn?”

  He didn’t want to answer, but the idea of Ruby gone from his life was so oppressing that he blurted out words he didn’t mean to say. “Maybe we don’t have to be in such a hurry. Maybe we should just take our last-years and then wait awhile to challenge Ix. We can’t be that close to Adiamo yet. We have time.”

  He’d seen betrayed, furious looks on her face before, but never directed at him. He couldn’t think of anything to say until after she and Marcelle had both fled. And by then all he could do was whisper to the empty space where they had been. “Sorry.”

  17: Challenges

  Ruby moved fast, leaving the hab warren with The Jackman behind, heading through the manufacturing shops and toward the crèche. Not because she was thinking about anything, b
ut just because she had to keep moving. Onor’s belief in her lived as part of her bones, part of her heart. It was a truth. Damn Onor.

  Marcelle’s footsteps followed her. Not catching up, but keeping up. At least she had the common sense not to say anything. There was nothing to say, no way to stop now. The test was too close, and she’d never get the momentum to do this again. If she stopped, she’d doom herself, forever, to be someone who once wanted something.

  It made her think about Nona, who should be studying with her right now. It made her teeth tight in her face and her jaw quiver, and it made her walk faster.

  Onor hadn’t meant to betray her. He was just scared. He didn’t mean it, and she wasn’t going to start doubting him. She wasn’t.

  She trailed through corridors that would fill up with workers at shift change but were mostly empty now.

  The people she did pass looked tired.

  It was still early morning. Two crèche apprentices came toward her, walking two toddlers. The children wore gray harnesses, but the leashes dangled free in the handler’s hands. They looked more vigilant than Ruby remembered her handlers being, but then there hadn’t been any accident as bad as the sky falling when she was little. She’d been one to run away, and sometimes she actually got away.

  Neither of these attendants looked likely to lose a child.

  Marcelle had apprenticed in the crèche at home. She used to come back in the evenings full of stories about babies. There might not be any more babies. The new rule limiting marriages and childbearing fit with Fox’s assertion that they were close. Why allow babies if they were almost home? It wasn’t like they needed more crew, and babes in arms could be a liability in a strange place. Besides, the ship was already on light rations from the sky-falling day. Except she would allow them if it was up to her. At least a few.

  Ruby sped up again as she hit the walkway behind the tall square of the crèche building, with its well-lit, bright corridors. She cursed as she bumped into a trash bot, scraping her shin.

  The carrying arms of the short, sturdy bot held the rather pungent output from one or more of the smaller children, making running into it even more lovely.

  If it didn’t have any little kids to watch during the day, the bot would need to be reprogrammed and tested for a different job. She’d probably be the one stuck cleaning baby shit out of it for years. And she was going to have a whopper of a bruise on her shin.

  Marcelle caught up to her, breathing hard. “If you don’t start paying attention, you’ll run into something worse than that. Shake it off. Onor’s just scared. He’s a boy.”

  Ruby fumed. Marcelle didn’t usually stand up for Onor.

  Marcelle took her arm. “You’re supposed to stay in crowds. Let’s go get breakfast. We’ve got time.”

  Ruby pulled away and then stopped. “Thanks. Thanks for following me. We shouldn’t eat, though. We should be studying. We should be figuring how to play that damned video. We should not be scared.” It felt like a mantra, calming her. “Ok, we go eat. But what did they tell you?”

  Marcelle shook her head. “Nothing. Just called us stupid little girls and said we probably shouldn’t be getting so many people involved. They just think they’re special.”

  The community kitchen fed the old, and the hurt, and served as penance for ten to twelve year olds who got in trouble at school. Ruby’d been in similar kitchens dishwashing more than once.

  She’d never seen them empty; it would be a safe place.

  Was she really going to have to think this way? Were there really people after her?

  If so, that’s what she should have been thinking about first, not Onor.

  “Who does it hurt if we get out of gray?” Ruby mused.

  “There’s our share of the cargo.” Marcelle paused and raked her fingers through her hair. “If that’s how it works.”

  “There’s more to it than that. I just don’t understand.”

  “Power needs someone to boss around.”

  Ruby laughed.

  “Besides, what do people want to protect now? We’re on our way home. They want us to be good grays and do the work to keep the ship moving. Especially since it’s damaged.”

  “I’m tired of being good.”

  “Shhhhh,” Marcelle said. “Me too. Maybe we should just slow down a little bit.”

  “You too?”

  “No. Not like Onor. I believe in what you’re doing.”

  So did Onor. Ruby’s voice came out sharp as she said, “I can’t afford to be afraid. I can’t look afraid. If I look afraid, nobody will follow me, and nobody but me will pass the test.”

  “We won’t if you’re dead, either.”

  Did she have to fight with Marcelle, too? “If you don’t take risks, nothing good happens. You just die after being boring.” Ruby swallowed. Lila Red had died. “You can’t change important things without taking risks.”

  “Lila Red died.”

  “Were you reading my brain?”

  Marcelle didn’t answer.

  The smell of baking bread and stim wafted around the corner. Ruby softened her voice. “Let’s take it to go. Get over to common. There’ll be students there by now.”

  Marcelle looked doubtful. “It’s pretty early.”

  The community kitchen was warmer than the corridor and smelled sweet and stale all at once. A few old people sat at one of the ten tables. They looked up as Ruby and Marcelle came in and waved at them.

  Before Owl Paulie, old people had never even talked to her.

  As they got in line, Ruby felt someone watching her. She glanced over her shoulder. Two reds headed her way. They hadn’t been following her and Marcelle through the corridor, so they must have been in here already, maybe leaning against the wall.

  Ruby forced a slow breath.

  They weren’t waiting for her. She hadn’t known herself that she would be coming here until moments ago.

  She and Marcelle both went along the same side of the buffet line, Marcelle’s eyes big, her head tilted a bit toward the approaching reds as if Ruby hadn’t seen them.

  Ruby shrugged.

  Then the reds stood opposite them, ladling gloppy, off-white morning cereal and then fresh, sweet fruit into bowls. They were young, maybe just five or six years older than Ruby and Marcelle, a man and a woman. The woman had brown skin, black eyes, and white hair, a sort of shock look that most reds didn’t choose. Her partner was plain and dull, all browns except for hazel eyes, walking behind her and watching Ruby and Marcelle nervously.

  Marcelle’s hands shook so hard that her spoon rattled against her plate. Her face had gone white.

  Ruby reminded herself that reds should make her mad and not scared. Reds got hungry, too.

  The woman smiled. “Ruby? And Marcelle?

  Ruby stiffened. “Yes.”

  The red woman brought her hand to her chest and lifted a strand of beads from out of her uniform top.

  Ruby drew in a surprised breath.

  Blue and gray and red beads. Ruby didn’t recognize the beads; she hadn’t made that strand. Daria hadn’t either.

  Some warning in the woman’s eyes kept Ruby from letting the grin she felt break out on her face. The red’s hand disappeared, and the beads slid back to rest under her shirt. She said, “I’m Chitt. In case you ever need me.”

  The man with her looked more scared than disapproving, and Ruby was sure he wore no colored beads.

  Maybe there were people after her, but she had them on her side, too. “Pleased to meet you, Chitt.”

  She was rewarded with a look that no longer carried warning, although Chitt’s next words, while soft and conversational, were “Don’t go anywhere alone.”

  18: The Test

  Test day. Onor felt light-stomached and dizzy.

  He and Marcelle walked side by side, their footsteps loud on the floor. Everything seemed amplified—sound, the greasy smell of the corridor, the way Marcelle’s voice grated on his spine. He felt all the parts of him—f
ingers and toes and the backs of his knees.

  Marcelle’s face looked as if someone had washed the color out of it. “How do we know we studied the right part? Not for the last-years, but—”

  Onor put out a hand to interrupt her. “Slow down and relax. It won’t help you to be worried.”

  “But what if we fail?”

  “Let it go. Relax.”

  “What if they make us fail?”

  He snapped the word out this time. “Relax!”

  Marcelle sneered. “Thank you.”

  He got blessed silence the rest of the way.

  The exam was given in the biggest classroom, which consisted of three rows of chairs, four walls made of video screens, and two doors. They had to swipe their wrists through a scanner to get in. Here and there, teachers lurked at the edges of the room, looking serious. There were three reds—one in front of the room and two behind. None of them was Ben, or even familiar.

  One red with good communications gear, a stunner, and Ix for backup should be able to manage a group of students.

  One of the reds in back wore the three-color beads—red, gray, and blue. Visibly, too. Onor had become used to glimpsing hidden strands poking up along a neckline, but this deepened his worry.

  A rising murmur behind them gave away Ruby’s presence. She’d spent the last few days with her student following, which was why he and Marcelle had decided to walk over without her.

  Ruby didn’t sit next to them, but landed between two of her new friends.

  Onor felt her absence. Ruby seemed to think her new followers would stick with her no matter what, that it was her they liked and not the idea of her. She was wrong. He took a deep breath while the scrapes and sighs and hushed chatter in the room faded to silence. Finally, each student had a seat, their journals, and nothing else.