by Alexa Donne
I left my bag on the floor, as I didn’t see any obvious areas for storage. I’d have to ask about that when the household was awake. I got down to my underdress, then slipped under the covers, sighing as my whole body sank into the plush of the mattress. I tried not to think about the laugh as I requested the lights be turned off. Thankfully, my mind and body were wearier than my conscious brain could battle, and before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Six
I awoke to Officer Xiao bustling about at the foot of my bed, folding linens.
“Oh, good, you’re awake!” she said, then frowned. “We’ve got to get you out of that underdress, though. Did you shower?”
“No, but I will whenever I get my shower rations for the week.”
“Stella, we don’t ration the water on board the Rochester,” she said, her tone somewhat flabbergasted. “You can shower whenever you like. Everything’s on a Kolburg recycling system. You’ll also see you have your own personal desk-tab unit over there.” She pointed to a desk to the left of the door. “And I’ve got some new clothes for you.”
She indicated the drawer that appeared at the foot of my bed when she pressed a hidden spring hinge and walked to the left of the bed. Then, placing a hand against one of the wall alcoves and pressing inward, she revealed a closet full to the brim with dresses and jackets.
What was this place?
“Oh, and whenever you’re feeling a bit stir-crazy, there’s always the window.”
“Window?” I asked, peering around. I didn’t see a window. She moved to the other side of the bed, pressing another stealth button. And then half the wall opened to reveal a black canvas of stars. That got me out of bed.
“I’ve never had a window this big,” I said stupidly, letting the view engulf my comparatively tiny body.
“Hope you don’t mind that we put you on the star-facing side. We had one or two rooms that face the moon, but they weren’t quite as spacious.”
“It’s perfect,” I breathed.
“I’ll leave you to shower and get dressed, and then I’ll come back in about an hour to show you where the dining quarters are.”
I searched the room for a rations tube and found none. “We don’t get our daily rations delivered to our quarters?” I asked.
“No, not on a ship of this size. The captain prefers we dine together.” She cast a kind smile in my direction. “I know you’ll have a lot of new routines to adjust to on board. I’m confident you’ll do well.” The door closed with a whoosh behind her.
Excitedly, I peeled off my underclothes and stepped inside the bathroom, eyeing the shower again. I extricated a hair tie from the end of my greasy braid, tossing it onto the floor and looking for an on switch. But—I wasn’t crazy, was I?—I didn’t see one.
“Shower on,” I said, and immediately water spouted from all directions. Unfortunately, it was freezing cold. “Too cold!” I shrieked, squirming with hands protecting my most sensitive bits from the onslaught. But quickly the water turned warm. I sighed, letting the pulsating rhythm of the jets of water massage my aching muscles, savoring the feel of water sluicing down my back, wetting my thick hair thoroughly.
“Please close your eyes,” a flat, feminine voice intoned, shocking me within an inch of my life.
“Wh-why?” I asked, sure this was a trick.
“I am going to provide soap now,” the voice continued. “I don’t want you to get any in your eyes.”
Of course. You talked to the ship. The ship talked back. I closed my eyes, then smelled the sharp aroma of soap. I found a rough sponge on a ledge in front of me when I opened my eyes.
“What about my hair?” I asked the shower. On the Stalwart, there was a special soap for washing hair.
“One moment.”
I felt the pressure of something squirt against my skull. I worked the gel into my hair until it foamed satisfyingly, sighing as the water washed away the last week. Death. Dancing. Saying goodbye to George.
“What is your name?” the voice asked.
“Stella,” I answered reluctantly. “And, uh, what’s your name?”
“Thank you for asking,” she intoned. “My name is Rori. Or Rochester Onboard Roving Intelligence.”
“Nice to properly meet you, Rori,” I said.
“Likewise, Stella. Please close your eyes again. I am preparing some conditioner.”
I didn’t know what conditioner was, but I obeyed. This time, it didn’t foam.
And then, after another minute, it was over.
“There is a towel to your right. Have a nice day, Stella.”
My shower was so polite! I dried off, finding a new toothbrush and toothpaste by the sink, so I happily brushed my teeth as well. With water, even. Now to figure out those new clothes.
“Stella, you look lovely,” Officer Xiao said when she came to fetch me, and despite her compliments, her gaze made me self-conscious. I tugged at the black fitted sleeves of my bodysuit, then adjusted my dress, fashioned on top like a uniform—stiff fabric, squared shoulders, a taut, half-neck collar—much like what Officer Xiao wore. I wasn’t accustomed to such luxe, tailored clothes. And so few pockets.
My new boots pinched my feet as I followed Xiao down the now properly lit corridor, recessed lighting in the ceiling panels revealing details the previous night had obscured. Where the Stalwart’s overwhelming geometric theme was squares, the Rochester favored the soft, rounded countenance of circles. Every twenty feet, between breaks in the bulkhead, were circular doorways, giving the corridor the feel of gliding down a tube. Our rooms may have been white, but the dominant color scheme in the gangways was black, offset with gray so dark, it might as well have been black. It was like walking through shadows.
“Officer Xiao?” I asked as we walked, remembering my query from the early hours of the morning. “Last night I thought I heard someone laughing outside my room. Do you know what that might have been?”
“Someone laughing? Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “I’m sure if you heard anything, it was just one of the cats or something.”
“I’m sorry, did you say cats?”
We turned right, down a shorter hallway, then left. “Oh, yes,” Xiao said. “Call it a quirk of the Fairfax family. The first generation aboard this ship brought their cats, and we’ve had them ever since. They’re harmless, I assure you. Friendly, even, if you’re their sort of person.”
It had been many years since I’d encountered a housecat, but I was sure they couldn’t laugh.
We arrived at a hatch door that looked no different from any other—how would I ever find my way around this place?—but when Officer Xiao pressed the button to open it, its function was clear. It was the ship’s mess hall, writ small. A table about eight feet in length and several feet across was bolted to the floor in the center of the room, with ten swiveling, padded seats lining each side and bookending the heads of the table. Directly across from the door was another magnificent window, the moon blooming in the panel’s right-hand corner. We were so close, I could make out details of individual craters.
If my eyes were overwhelmed, it was nothing compared to the onslaught my other senses faced. I breathed in the scent of food, practically tasting it on my tongue. My mouth watered. There was oatmeal, real buttered toast, soy bacon, sautéed tomatoes, baked beans, and my beloved tea, to cap it all off. We had had spreads like this on the Empire, but I never imagined I’d see one again. I didn’t wait for Officer Xiao’s permission to grab a plate, and she didn’t object. Indeed, she took a seat at the head of the table and nibbled on some toast.
“Jessa likes to sleep in, and we don’t press her about it, given her age,” she said. “You’ll meet her a bit later. Otherwise, the captain prefers we all keep to a strict schedule as outlined to you last night. Lights are out and everyone must be in their private quarters at twenty-two hundred hours.”
“Will I meet the captain later too?” I asked between mouthfuls of beans and toa
st. I imagined a man Xiao’s age, with a weathered face and imposing manner. My new boss.
“Oh, no, he’s currently off-ship. You’ll find he spends a good amount of time away.”
The dining room door slid open, making me jump. In limped a middle-aged woman with messy, graying hair stubbornly curling out of a tight bun atop her head. Her clothes were less formal than mine and Officer Xiao’s, more akin to what I had worn aboard the Stalwart, black and gray slick fabrics with many hidden zips and pockets. Following close behind her was a tall, dark-skinned man in a navy uniform who peered quizzically at me from behind rectangular spectacles.
“Good morning,” Xiao greeted them. “This is Stella Ainsley, the new governess and auxiliary engineering support.” She turned to me, first indicating the woman. “Lieutenant Poole is our primary engineer, so you’ll be assisting her on occasion with ship repairs.”
Lieutenant Poole grunted a response, looking me up and down and seeming to find me inadequate. She pawed four slices of toast onto a plate, spooned a heap of beans beside it, stuck two pieces of soy bacon in her mouth, and left.
The man laughed, taking a seat to my left and extending his hand to me. “I’m Orion Carmichael, Rochester’s Chief Technical Officer. Grace can be a bit . . . brisk,” he said by way of explanation.
“But you’ll find she’s excellent at her job,” Xiao interjected. “Give her a wide berth, and she’ll give you the same.”
“How many crew are there on board?” I asked.
“We run a small, tight ship,” she said. “We have seven crew members, including you, plus Jessa, our sole civilian on board. So eight, total.”
“All this food is just for eight people?” I said incredulously, surveying no fewer than four platters of food, enough to feed four dozen aboard the Stalwart.
“Albert heard it was your inaugural breakfast and pulled out all the stops. The better for all of us,” Orion said, reaching for the platter of soy bacon and pushing several onto his plate. “Plus we have Sergei as a guest, right, Iris?”
I thought I saw spots of color rise to her cheeks, but when Xiao spoke, she was cool as a cucumber. “Orion, do you have Stella’s comms unit ready?”
“Incidentally, I have it right here.” He produced from his pocket the oddest piece of jewelry I’d ever clapped eyes on. The front piece was brushed chrome and shaped like a gently sloping letter S, with a long, curved plastic back. “It goes over your ear,” he explained, then helped me fit it on. The S part rested just inside my eardrum, while the back part molded comfortably to the slope of my skull.
“When I point to you, just say your name.” He recited a long string of numbers, then pointed, and I did as I was told. Two tones chirped in my ear. “Voice activation is all set.”
“We wear our comms at all times while on duty,” Officer Xiao said. “It’s the easiest way to communicate with one another while on board. Just use the ‘on’ and ‘off’ voice commands to speak to someone. For example: ‘Comms on. Paging Stella Ainsley.’”
There were two more chirps in my ear, followed by Rori’s voice announcing Officer Xiao. The ping repeated at intervals every five seconds.
“You have to accept the page,” Xiao said. “Respond with ‘Accept.’”
I did so, and next thing I knew, I was hearing her in my ear, like she was standing right next to me. Even though, of course, she was.
“Now our comm connection is open, and will remain so until one of us cuts the connection. Just say ‘Comms off’ to do so.” Her voice in my ear cut out. “You can page anyone on the ship this way, apart from the captain. He doesn’t accept comm hails from anyone except for me and Lieutenant Poole, though he can page any one of us as he pleases. If you have any issues, please contact me before speaking to the captain.”
“Is it true he’s coming back soon?” Orion asked.
“Yes, that is what he tells me, though he did not specify a timeline. He could be back in two days or two weeks. Who knows?”
“Have you told Jessa?”
“No, but I was going to, after I introduced Stella. If you’re done, I’ll take you down.”
I hastily finished chewing a piece of toast and sucked down a second glass of orange juice before following Xiao on our way.
“That’s the bridge to your right,” she said as we reached the front of the ship. I was starting to get a sense of the Rochester’s layout; like the bulkheads, it was circular. All points led either to the bridge or to the transport bay at the aft end of the ship. I peered through a wide doorway to a room not unlike Sergei’s cockpit but about four times its size. We stopped at a double-sided stairway and headed down on the left into a space likely originally intended as a crew recreation area. Now, however, it was a playroom-cum-schoolhouse. A girl of approximately ten with dark curly hair cropped short, framing her pale face, stood in the center of the room, hands held politely behind her back.
“You must be my new teacher,” she said, crossing the space between us and extending a hand to me.
“You must be Jessa.”
She gave a small nod. “So pleased to meet you.”
Uncanny. Even my best charges on board the Stalwart had never been so polite. Jessa bit her lip and looked to Xiao for approval. “Very good, Jessa,” she said. “Now Miss Ainsley won’t know what hit her when you transform into the handful that you are.” Xiao turned to me. “I’ve been teaching her since the last governess left, so there have been some gaps in her recent education, though I daresay her math and science have improved markedly.”
“Will I be watching her outside of school as well?” I asked. “Or do her parents do that? Her mother?” Though Xiao had mentioned only one civilian—Jessa—perhaps her mother was counted among the crew, like her father, the captain.
“My mother is dead,” Jessa informed me so matter-of-factly, I was taken aback.
“I’m so sorry,” I stuttered out, mentally kicking myself. I loathed meaningless platitudes like that myself, so why was I offering them to her? Jessa was unfazed.
“That’s okay; she died a long time ago. And I don’t need a babysitter anyway.”
Xiao expressed her disagreement on that point with a look, then said, “Orion and I take it in turns looking after Jessa after-hours. Orion gets her up in the morning, and I usually put her to bed. We’ll add you to our rotation.”
I nodded, concealing how sad I found it. A girl being raised by officers.
“Jessa’s a very quick study,” Xiao said, not missing a beat, and I caught a brief second of my charge looking inordinately pleased with herself. “With your experience, I’m sure you’ll know how best to catch her up and acclimate her.”
I felt a tug on my hand. “I’ve only ever been on the Rochester,” Jessa said. “Will you tell me about your other ships?”
“With that, I’ll leave you,” Xiao said, heading for the stairs. “Formal lessons start tomorrow. Stella, you’ll find your timetables on your personal tab in your quarters.”
I spent the day getting to know my pupil.
Jessa was, more precisely, ten and three-quarters. Her favorite subject was literature, followed by science. She excitedly asked me a thousand questions about the “rest of the world,” which I answered with as much detail and color as I could, sugarcoating more than a few things about the Empire and Stalwart, however. Jessa was rapt.
“How many people are aboard the Stalwart?” she asked, her eyes going wide when I told her over seven hundred.
“Most ships don’t have that many, though some, like the Mumbai, have far more,” I explained.
“The Rochester is boring,” Jessa said. “It’s the same five people all the time, plus Hugo when he’s here.” Her expression left Not enough unsaid.
“I’ve met Xiao, Poole, and Orion, but who are the other two?”
“Albert and Mari,” she said.
I remembered Albert was the cook. “Who’s Mari?”
“She’s our medical officer. She hates me.”
&n
bsp; “I can’t imagine anyone hating you.”
“She didn’t like my last governess, either.” Jessa’s expression turned dark. “Mari’s weird. She never comes to meals, so you probably won’t see her much either.”
I didn’t push it, even though I really wanted to know more. Not just about this Mari character, but about Jessa’s last governess. Why had she left?
Discussing the other ships in the fleet led to an impromptu Earth geography lesson. Jessa knew some of the basics—she, in fact, informed me that the Rochester’s origin was the United States of America, and she was accordingly familiar with its place on the map. I pointed out the farm belt of the U.S., where most of the Stalwart’s ancestors had come from. She pointed to the northern end of the state of California and told me her ancestors came from someplace called Silicon Valley. We couldn’t find it on the map.
By the time Orion appeared with a dinner tray, exhaustion had caught up with me. A quick mental calculation reminded me I’d gotten only about four hours of sleep since I arrived. I didn’t even have the energy to be impressed by dinner, which was a far cry from the mush I was used to. I dipped large chunks of bread into hot, buttery butternut squash soup, taking bites between yawns.
After relying on Orion to show me the way back to my quarters, I peeled off my clothes and changed into my new nightdress, then collapsed into bed. My first day aboard the Rochester faded into sleep.
I awoke with a start the next morning to Rori informing me that it was seven a.m. and time for me to get up. She was very nice about it, but still I groaned, pulling myself out of bed. I surveyed my closet of new clothes, reminding myself that I could now wear a fresh bodysuit each day, if I wanted. Laundry was every Sunday, and there were seven to choose from. It felt weird, so I put on the same one as yesterday instead.