The Creative Fire: 1 (Ruby's Song)

by Brenda Cooper

  She loved the sound of him. Because of that, he felt like the same trap Colin represented, only more dangerous. She stepped back.

  Joel raised an eyebrow. “I’m no longer sure you’re Fox’s puppet. We’ll leave it at that for now.” He turned his attention to Colin and KJ. “We can’t waste time. Is there somewhere safe for Ruby to wait until after we meet?”

  To Ruby’s surprise, KJ said, “She’s safest with us, and for the moment at least, her safety is as important as this plan.”

  “Do you trust her so much?” Joel asked.

  “I trust her to do what she is doing well. I wouldn’t trust her to follow orders.”

  Ruby winced but said nothing. He had her right.

  “But she can learn,” KJ added. “And she has gotten this far. She won’t tell tales.”

  Joel still stood close to her. He looked down, took a hand, and tipped up her chin. “You’re not going to put what we say here into a song are you?”

  She smiled. “Not until whatever you plan is done.”

  He laughed at that, a genuine laugh. “Very well.”

  Both Ani and Colin had remained silent, and neither had been consulted. Ani had no power here. Colin had power on the ship, more than she’d ever seen anywhere, and he had spent far more time with Ruby than KJ. Yet KJ was the one Joel asked about her. She revised her opinion of KJ, recalling the oddly dressed people in ponytails they had passed when they fled the class and the woman who had come in to warn him.

  “Can we win?” Colin asked. A question, but not a question. Acquiescence. Obedience.

  Joel glanced at Ruby. “Depends on what surprises I can pull off. I’ll send you enough troops to reinforce yours and protect the cargo bars, and I may give you some objectives as we go. It will rattle Garth if he gets the message that he’s clearly lost you. Are you ready for that?”

  “Yes.” Colin said the word with such conviction that Ruby believed him. Good.

  “People are going to die,” Colin continued. “We can’t stop until we win. If we do, it’s over for us. We will have one chance.”

  KJ spoke. “We’ve been slowing for almost a year. I don’t know when we get home, but we should be close enough to talk to Adiamo soon. We are nearly out of time.”

  Ruby broke in. “Let me go to the grays. I can make sure they support you.”

  Joel looked surprised and a bit put out. Well, if he didn’t expect her to join the conversation, that was just too bad.

  Colin growled, the sound low in his throat and unhappy. “It will put you in danger.”

  Joel gave her a measured gaze but said nothing.

  She kept her eyes on him, trying to figure out what would make him see her as capable. She chose silence.

  It took a very long time, but Joel eventually nodded at Colin. “Have Fox help you get her songs and stories throughout gray. Take her out if you can keep her safe.”

  Colin laughed. “Fox is not likely to be happy with that assignment.”

  “Then manage him,” Joel said.

  Ruby stayed as still as she could.

  While the men talked about the strength of their fighters, she paid enough attention to realize Garth commanded the whole ship—everything on The Creative Fire—and that there were almost as many reds and blues and even greens that hated him or wanted him out of power as there were people loyal to him. They just weren’t as well organized.

  At least they had better odds than she’d thought. Garth had apparently made a lot of people pretty angry.

  As the men argued through details, her mind kept going to what she might say and how she might encourage her people to fight, even though the odds were against them.

  46: In the Cargo Bar

  The Jackman hadn’t been at the rally. Or if he had, Onor hadn’t noticed. But he stood outside the door, waiting, wearing exactly the expression Onor had expected: worry, unhappiness, and a bit of disgust.

  “Did you see her?” Onor blurted out, even though he knew better. “Did you know she’d be here?”

  They came to a “T” intersection and The Jackman took the rightward corridor. “No good is about to happen.”

  “Isn’t this the fight you’ve been working for all along?”

  The Jackman laughed, bitter and short. “Maybe I’m too used to trying to skulk around the corridors here.”

  “Yeah, yeah. What about Ruby?”

  “If we hurry up, you can catch the next train to the bars.”

  “So you were listening?”

  “Of course. What if you’d gotten in trouble?”

  Onor bristled. “I can take care of myself.”

  “You’ll get the chance to prove that. See that you’re right.”

  “There’s going to be a real fight this time?”

  “You heard Joel.”

  “How will Ix respond?”

  The Jackman shook his head, his eyes laughing but a little spooked in spite of that. “Ix has a long, narrow view. I don’t know what it thinks.”

  They rounded the corner into the train station. “This isn’t where we went before,” Onor said.

  “Brilliant noticing.”

  “Right.”

  “There’s more than one stop for that train, you know.”

  The room and the platform were empty. “Where is everybody?”

  The Jackman shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s always emptier on this level, but this feels too empty.”

  “If there’s people on our side everywhere—on all the levels of the ship—how do we know who they are?”

  The Jackman was turning in place, looking around. “Sometimes we don’t.”

  The Jackman’s breath, and his own breath for that matter, sounded loud in the empty room. The Jackman put up a hand, and they both stopped. “Train,” he said.

  When it came, the cars were full of reds, peppered here and there with blues. No grays. Of course, he and The Jackman were dressed as blue as anybody. When the doors opened, they stepped on and flattened themselves against the wall of the train car.

  The faces in the car were strained, expressions varying from determined to scared. Voices spoke in high, nervous whispers. The train hummed and the whispers spun up Onor’s spine. Although he struggled to hear details, all he really got was that there was a fight somewhere already, that people were hurt, and that people were dead. He heard Ruby’s name three times.

  The train kept going through the next stop—the one they’d used to board the day they went to the cargo bars and just stood. The Jackman leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Get off fast.”

  “Okay.”

  They made it out the doors first and The Jackman took off at a quick walk, not even looking back to see if Onor followed. Once they were in the corridor he broke into a slow jog. They passed a pair of reds, The Jackman nodding to them, and Onor again wondered how to tell who was on what side. Then he spotted a tiny ribbon of gray on one of the red’s wrists, and it reminded him of Ruby’s beaded necklaces.

  The Jackman ducked through a door and gestured for Onor to follow. They crossed a large, empty space and came to a set of stairs. “Go on up,” The Jackman said.

  Onor started up and then stopped, realizing The Jackman wasn’t following. He bit back the instinct to ask him to come. “What’s going on?”

  “The fight. The people we came with on the train will be bringing it here, so get up there before they get to this door. You don’t want to be questioned.”

  He glanced up at the door above him and then back at The Jackman. “Thanks.”

  The Jackman was already gone. Hopefully he’d heard.

  At the top of the stairs, Onor hesitated at the doorway, took a deep breath, and stepped through. Two men grabbed him, one on each arm.

  “Hey!”

  “Who are you and what’s your business here?”

  “Onor. Colin told me to come here. To protect Ruby.”

  One of the guards laughed. “The redheaded snap he’s attached to?”

  He fil
ed that for future consideration. “Yes. And you best watch out. I came on the last train, and there’s a pile of people coming—they’ll be here soon. Not friends.”

  “You talk like a gray.”

  “That doesn’t change the truth.” He stood straighter and tried to pull his arms free. They were held too tight. Then one was freed as the man closest to the door let go of Onor and stepped to where he could see the stairs Onor had come up. The guard’s face froze and hardened. He said, “He’s right. Get Claire to watch him.”

  A soft beeping started. An alarm. One of the two men must have set it off. Before he had time to figure out why, Onor had been dragged around a corner and into a bigger room. The guard led him to a barstool and gestured to a woman as broad as Penny and taller. “Keep him for us.”

  She laughed.

  The alarm had called people from many nearby places; the room began to fill up and organize. Here and there, Onor spotted the confluence of gray and red and blue that meant friend.

  Claire leaned on the bar beside him, close enough to grab him if he moved. As edgy as he was, sitting still made his stomach and dry throat scream. “Does watching me include providing food and water?”

  Streaks in the back of her head suggested Claire had been dark haired when she was younger. Strong bones and bright blue eyes told him she had probably also once been beautiful. Now, her eyes and lips were surrounded with fine lines. In spite of her bulk, she looked edged and tight. She reached down, drew out a glass, and filled it without having to glance down. She plopped it on the bar next to him. “A start.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now trade. What’s up?”

  He took a long drink of water, thinking. This was where he was supposed to be, and he’d been called by Ruby and sent by The Jackman. He could talk. “You know about us surrounding this place a few days ago, right?”

  “Seemed pretty stupid to me.”

  “We just want to be able to come . . . well, here.”

  “News flash. Most people don’t care if you’re locked out or not.”

  “There’s a lot of us who care.” He drank more water, which mostly made him hungry. The room was still filling up, although the attention was all near the front, mostly on one of the two men who had grabbed him. He should gather intelligence for The Jackman. “So what do you care about?”

  “We want the right people in charge when we get home. Garth and his iron-fist gang aren’t it. They don’t share well.”

  “Share what?”

  “Information. Power.” Claire’s voice had gotten higher and anger was drawing her severe face into a near snarl. “That’s going to be who’s attacking. They’re on us faster than I thought. I hope to hell we’re ready.”

  “Me, too.” Not that he understood what was going on yet, but he knew the stakes. It was the same war his parents had died in. “If I can have some food I might be a little more ready.”

  She laughed. “The key to all warriors is their belly.”

  47: A Speaking Part

  The four of them—Ruby and Ani, Colin and KJ—came into Colin’s lair all together through an entrance she hadn’t even known existed. The room was so full it almost looked small, even with the high ceilings and bright lighting. It smelled like fear and testosterone and stale stim. Suits and helmets had been laid out along the floor on one side of the room, and three men stood guard over the suits. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like there were fewer suits than people.

  She spotted the back of Onor’s head resting on his hands at the bar, an empty bowl beside him.

  Four or five people were already converging toward Colin. She took advantage of his split attention and went toward Onor. Not only did Colin not make an attempt to stop her, she wasn’t even sure he noticed she’d left. Ani, of course, stayed with her like glue. The ever-present, supportive protector.

  A tired-looking old woman leaned on the back side of the bar, close to Onor. “Hello, Claire,” Ani said, “How is he?”

  Ruby didn’t want to wait for an answer. She put a hand on Onor’s shoulder to feel the rise and fall of breath.

  Claire must have noticed Ruby’s worried look. She sneered. “I diagnose simple exhaustion. I gave him some food and a glass of wine. He fell asleep as if he were home safe in bed.”

  Ruby bristled at the woman’s tone of voice. “He’s my friend. Take it from me, he’s never been safe.”

  Claire turned away, muttering. “Quit thinking only you grays have it tough.”

  Ani broke in. “Do you have a few more bowls of whatever he had? Only without the sleeping powder?”

  The food gave her immediate strength, and Ruby felt oddly content to sit beside Onor while he snored softly. She watched the chaos in the room form itself around Colin and KJ. “I can trust them, can’t I?” she mused.

  “You can trust Fox, too,” Ani replied between bites.

  “Really?”

  “He came for you.”

  Ruby snorted. “I can’t love a man who keeps me prisoner.”

  “Or have a friend who keeps you safe?” Ani countered, a lightly hurt look in her eyes.

  “Safe is useless.”

  “So’s dead.” Ani’s lips had thinned and her eyes narrowed, but her focus had shifted to Onor. “Do you love him?”

  “He’s been my friend forever.”

  A loud thump came from the front of the room. Then a grunt. A scream, cut off. “They’re here,” Ruby whispered. “Fighting.”

  “Get behind the bar.” Ani pushed on Ruby’s shoulder, trying to move her.

  Ruby glanced at Onor and then at the front of the room, where KJ and Colin had both disappeared in the crowd. She reached over and squeezed Onor’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

  He sat bolt upright, surprise registering on his face when he saw her.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Wait,” Ani said.

  Ruby took Onor’s hand and pulled him off the barstool, heading toward the front. Ani could follow or not.

  Ruby pulled Onor close enough to the door to see what was going on. The only real sign of trouble was a man in red laying motionless across the floor. Looming over the body, but paying it no attention, the two big door bouncers stared outward. Everyone else milled behind them, pushing. Then two men dragged the body toward the side of the room.

  Colin stood against the wall, facing inward. She pushed through three fairly big men to stand next to him and look out at the room, seeing what Colin saw. A few hundred people, most of them bunched together, facing forward. Blues and reds, men and women. Most of them men. Faces determined and anticipatory. Hungry, almost.

  Hot breath and whispers and shuffling created a sort of white noise.

  In the far back, by herself, Claire leaned against the bar.

  Ani popped out from behind a knot of people. She met Ruby’s eyes for a moment, looking betrayed.

  Colin noticed Ruby and pulled her in close to him, sharply and for just a moment. Her head came lower on him than on Fox, near his heart, and his arms caged her lightly. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Are you ready to talk to them?”

  She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry.

  “I’ll set it up.” He let her go. His voice boomed across the room, almost surely loud enough to be heard by anybody foolish enough to be on the stairs outside. “Here we go. We’ve been waiting for this forever, for our moment to run The Creative Fire. But before we can make choices about the ship, we have to win tonight, and maybe tomorrow, and maybe the day after that.”

  Faces were all turned to him, eyes glinting in the overhead light.

  “The doors are guarded again; the stairs are safe. You will go out, and when you return, we will be in charge.”

  Someone in the crowd yelled out, “Yes!”

  “Ix is on our side,” he said. “As long as we bring no weapons and do no damage. As long as we respect the Fire. We must do that or we will lose Ix, and if we lose Ix, we lose the battle and the war, and we lose any chance at our freedom. Can you all respect the Fire?
”

  A roar rose up, a cacophony of affirmation that included the words yes and now and we will. People smiled, and, in a few places, bigger people boosted smaller ones up so everyone could see Colin’s face.

  “We are fighting for the Fire’s soul.”

  Colin’s words were perfect. They made Ruby’s eyes sting as she watched the fighters cheer.

  When the sound had died down a bit, Colin continued. “This is not a fight between powers, but a fight between ideologies. Everyone from the outer levels is with us, but in our home, we will have to tell one from the other. No one—not even me—knows all of our faces. Show your sign.”

  He paused as people held up necklaces and ribbons, buttons and scraps of material knotted into headscarves. All of it was red and gray and blue together, and a few had even added green. Ruby smiled to see the green, knowing instinctively it was right.

  She had not created this, could not have created it. Time and stress and cruelty and abuse had made this insurrection, and it went back at least as far as Lila Red, but she had given them the sign. Her throat felt thick. She cleared it and sipped water. This was going to be as hard as singing at Owl Paulie’s funeral had been.

  As if he knew what she was thinking, Colin went on to say, “Most of you know the woman who started this sign.”

  A few voices said her name. Then a few more. “Ruby! Ruby! Ruuuuuuubyyy!” The calls started to smear together, “RuRuRuby, Ruby,” and then developed into a chant, her name over and over. Colin let it build, encouraged it by joining in.

  Her heart beat fast, slamming blood into her fingers and toes and heating her cheeks.

  Colin leaned down and whispered, “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Are they ready to go? Can I send them off?”

  Colin glanced at the man beside the door, who nodded. “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath and let the act of finally speaking quiet her upset tummy and racing nerves. “I grew up walking beneath your feet. We called you reds and blues because all we knew was the color of your uniforms, and mostly we knew the reds and feared them.”