by Holly Ice
Ashoka left the group first. ‘Pancakes on the menu today?’
‘No, not today.’
‘Shame.’ He shifted curls from his eyes. ‘The change in routine was fun.’
‘You would say that. You chose entertainment.’
He chuckled and let me claim his space.
A screen hung on the wall with a brightly coloured image: silhouetted men and women, centred, with ‘We Need You!’ above and ‘for our exploration team’ below. An open call for volunteers? Hope flared, and sank. Whatever the recruitment posters said, they’d have favourites. We all had basic groundwork training, but believing we’d all have a fair chance was foolish. Still… it was tempting. The data uncovered would be astronomical, and seeing our new home? My throat tightened. Open space and new experiences. I needed that. Desperately.
The screen flashed to page two, which explained the team would be the first to touch dirt. They had to be independent as they’d be alone for weeks, and close monitoring should be expected. Ideally they’d have no young children. The lengthy requirements and desired skills were listed, including food preparation and botany. I read it twice to be sure, but I qualified.
An elbow knocked my ribs. Too hard to be mere jostling. Chin-length curls revealed the culprit. ‘Yara. Should have guessed.’
‘You can’t be thinking of applying.’
Ludis pushed to my side. ‘Why wouldn’t she? It’s a great opportunity.’
Yara forced a laugh. ‘She’s a kin kid.’
‘So what? She qualifies.’
I loved Ludis for standing up for me, but this was a losing battle.
‘So? So she has no right!’
I sighed. ‘Because I wasn’t handpicked from the embryo tanks below decks? Is the diversity I personally bring to the ship that important to you?’
‘That’s bad enough, but your family doesn’t have a single tank kid in their history. On both sides. It’s selfish to presume you can be first on the ground when your family hasn’t sacrificed for the ship.’
Exactly the argument I’d expected, but it wasn’t as if I had a choice. ‘How I or my ancestors were conceived is irrelevant. Like Ludis said, I have the required skills.’
Ratan turned from the screen, frowning. ‘And what skills are those? Dubious cooking ability?’
‘I’m not completely hopeless.’
‘Perhaps not hopeless, but a cooking role isn’t difficult. They’ll find someone better.’ His tone was dry rather than scathing, but the words still hurt.
‘Like Benjie? He falls asleep in his porridge.’ Most the kitchen staff were older, retired from other departments.
‘Maybe, but Benjie used to be security. He’s not a slacker, and with the extra sector’s expertise, he’d be a great applicant.’
A slacker? Food wasn’t all I had. I’d read more wildlife and botanical books than anyone in colonial studies. My comm stats proved it.
I pulled in a deep breath and let loose. ‘You know what? I’d do great if I applied. The only reason your meals taste like shit is because you treat me like shit.’
Yara raced forward.
Ludis held her off – thank you, Ludis. I backed up, put the kitchen counter between us, and kept going. They could eat whatever Benjie decided on, else I’d be beaten as blue as Ashoka’s pancakes before I had the chance to pick a new meal.
A low, steady laugh rang out. I peered through the kitchen door. It was Ratan, standing in the food queue, his cheeks reddening as he sucked in breath. What did he have to laugh about? He was usually the level-headed one!
My gaze dipped to Yara. Ratan’s laughter had drained most the fight from her. She’d wrenched from Ludis’s hold and seethed with anger but didn’t push to the front to use me as her personal punching bag. Instead she twitched between a deep frown and a maniacal smile. Ludis hovered behind her, watchful.
‘Making friends, are we?’ Benjie asked. He shoved a plate into my chest, hard enough to bruise my sternum.
I rubbed the area until the ache died down. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you have no place applying for that squad.’
‘I didn’t say I was.’
‘You didn’t put on that show, complaining you were eligible, for nothing. You thought about it. You have a stiffness in your spine that proves it. Get the idea out your malfunctioning head.’
‘It’s my choice to make.’
‘Is it? Was it also your choice to taint their food? Yara is right. Kin kids like you don’t deserve the opportunity. Do your job and keep the crew fed until we land. You’ll get time to explore then.’
I jabbed the green button on the machine and brought out the next four plates without adjustment. Arguing was pointless. I should have kept quiet, out of sight and easy to dismiss with my useless skill set and repetitive, menial job…
My heart squeezed. I was as trapped here as I was in that metal crawlspace.
* * *
Ratan and Benjie sucked away any hope I had of being considered for the squad. I had been right the first time. The committee would have favourites, and I wouldn’t be among them. I was barely tolerated in the kitchen, let alone in an elite team. My jaw cramped with the force of my clenched teeth. I massaged my neck until it passed. This was why I left these idiots to their competitions. It was healthier to avoid them and keep my focus on things I could change, like the next table.
I’d left the worst for last. Discarded wet cloth squares littered one side, sodden until they were half see-through. Small, sticky puddles surrounded them. I had no idea if these were gross snot collectors or had mopped up a drink spillage. Either way, touching them was going to be vile.
I drew in a small breath and straightened my shoulders.
‘Errai, can I borrow you?’
Was that the captain, or was I imagining a way to procrastinate?
The food hall was as empty as it had been a minute ago, apart from the captain behind me, one hand on her hip as she waited for me to formulate a coherent sentence. Space me without a suit, she was here. I’d never spoken to her personally, certainly not since she’d won the captaincy vote.
‘Captain Jabir. How can I help? Did you want food?’ I headed for the counter.
‘No, thank you. I had third shift. Food before bed doesn’t sit well.’
‘Oh, okay.’ I looked at her. What else could she want? She was still in her grey-and-white duty coveralls, her hair in free-falling curls, and she looked less stressed than she had yesterday… but something must be wrong for her to seek me out.
Rima scrunched her nose at the tissues and indicated a clean table. ‘Care to sit?’
‘I… sure.’ I sat in the chair across from her. ‘What’s this about? Is my family okay?’
‘Oh, yes. Nothing like that.’
‘And Ludis?’
‘As far as I know, he’s fine too. This is about you.’
‘Me?’ Had Ashoka told her about the blue pancakes? I didn’t think he was the type, not after eating them. Yara or Benjie, on the other hand, could well have told her what I’d said this morning…
Rima leant back in her chair and pointed to the nearest screen. ‘Have you seen the recruitment information?’
‘Yes, I read it.’
‘I want you to apply.’
‘I… really? Is this to do with what I said this morning? I was just angry, not truly considering it. I’m sure you have better applicants in mind.’
Rima pursed her lips. ‘You think they won’t accept you.’
‘You can’t be blind to how tank kids treat people like me.’
‘That’s exactly why I want you to apply.’
‘Why? They’d never accept me.’
Rima spread her hands on the table. ‘You know it wasn’t always like this. Tank kids were needed for diversity, but they weren’t required in every generation. Bitter parents created the stigma.’
‘What do you mean, bitter? They wanted biological children?’
‘Of course. Alm
ost everyone had their own children, once. There’s a beauty to it, seeing yourself in your children.’
‘If you say so.’
‘You might not believe things can change, but they always do…’ Her eyebrows drew together in a frown, but she didn’t continue.
‘Are you okay?’
She shook herself. ‘Sometimes it’s strange to think I’ll be the last captain of the Courage. I can’t imagine what our new world will look like, the things we’ll lose.’
It was strange to see the outgoing captain so unsure, especially when settling a new world could only be an improvement in my opinion. I couldn’t imagine missing the confines of the ship, but I supposed, no matter its faults, it was home.
Rima heaved a sigh and sat up straighter. ‘So, will you do it?’
‘I’m a terrible choice.’
‘By your graduating scores, maybe, but you were a rising star in your early teens. I remember your detailed report on what life on the three planets might look like. Back then, your test scores were among the highest in your generation.’
‘Anyone can have a good year.’
‘It wasn’t just a good year. No one drops twenty, then thirty and forty, percent points without reason. You failed on purpose.’
‘I didn’t think I was so memorable.’
Rima glanced at her interlocked hands. ‘I know my crew, and I know you have the skills to do well on the team. Why not apply?’
‘Why come to me? You have other options – my parents are far more qualified.’
Her lips twitched.
‘It’s for Ristar, isn’t it? You want to use me to, what, improve opinion?’ We couldn’t have tank kids forever once we landed, but I wasn’t a good example to encourage people to have kin kids. ‘I’m not your girl. Ask Siti, or someone older and more accomplished.’
‘And again, you push opportunity away. Is it so hard to stand up to them, to prove your worth?’
She made it sound easy. Last time I’d stood up to tank kids, I’d been encased in metal. But the idea nagged at me all the same…
A kin kid making it through the application? The crew couldn’t call me stupid any longer. And it tugged on my heart, too. Twenty-something generations ago, the very first Avilas and Contis, the direct ancestors of my parents, had left the solar system. I’d represent them if I made it. Earth.
‘What does the application involve?’
‘You’ll prove your worth through physical and mental testing, and not just to me.’ Rima pushed back her chair. ‘I’ll send the forms to your comm.’
‘Wait. I didn’t say I agreed!’
‘I’ve already told the committee you’re applying.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘Without my permission?’
‘Stop hiding, Errai. I’ll send the application forms. Fill them in.’
Chapter 4
My comm’s flashing light wound my insides into knots to match my aching arms, and I collapsed onto the bed. Benjie had me mop the entire deck, his personal punishment for the captain’s ‘ill-advised decision’, and the application forms were waiting for me. Dozens, if the buzzes against my wrist were a true indication.
I kicked off my boots and stretched my toes, but the comm light bothered me still, varying the light against my eyelids until I gave in to the itch and hit play. Before long, their automated system would reject me, and I’d live through the crew’s heckles until they focused on supporting the successful applicants.
The captain’s voice filled the room. ‘Your application starts now. You can pause as required. Please state your full name.’
‘Errai Avila.’
‘Do you have biological or social parents?’
‘Biological.’
‘State their names.’
‘Sirius Avila and Liese Conti.’
The questions ran through my basic info while I stared at the bland grey ceiling, until my schooling. ‘Your recorded mark for colonial studies is forty-four percent?’
‘Yes.’ No risk I’d make the squad on my recorded marks. She ran through my other results without error. They weren’t much better.
‘The following section tests retained knowledge. You may pause after any answer but not before an answer is given, else you receive zero marks for the relevant question. In addition, opening data files or asking for assistance invalidates your answers for that section. Understood?’
‘I… yes.’
I sat up. This gave me a chance to show my true potential. My answers would be sent straight to the captain and the wider committee. There’d be no gatekeepers to bestow ‘mark corrections’ or decry ‘substandard’ group projects. My stiff calves and back proved the crew’s reaction wouldn’t be positive if I tried to do this, but… I wanted to. The captain was right. I’d been hiding my skills, and I was bored, mind-numbingly bored, of shifts with snotty tissues and Benjie’s jibes. Why shouldn’t I snatch a place from tank kids, prove I was as deserving as they were?
‘Which rock is used to start a fire?’ Rima asked.
Though I knew the answer, my tongue felt clumsy, larger than my mouth. If I did this, I’d change my standing, and I’d be a target to knock down. My confidence wavered. I licked my lips and swallowed. Prepared a lie. It came out as a short squeak. I couldn’t do it. I’d lied for too long.
‘No answer recognised. Please repeat your answer. To pass this question for zero marks, state “pass”.’
I cleared my throat and used Yara’s disbelief I’d apply and Ratan’s laughter to push me forward. They didn’t deserve this. ‘Flint, or any rock with a high silica content, struck against high-carbon steel, produces sparks which can start a fire in tinder.’
‘Answer logged.’
The door buzzed. ‘Pause questions.’
‘Paused.’
The door slid open to reveal Ludis, brow furrowed in thought. Had things deteriorated with his mum, or was there bad news from navigation? Much as I hated to admit it, I’d prefer the former. ‘What brings you?’
He gestured to my blinking comm. ‘You went for it?’
‘How did you find out?’
He pulled me into a rough hug. ‘I heard whispers.’ He put me down, eyes crinkling with a smile. ‘Good for you.’
I twisted the comm around my wrist. He’d be disappointed when he learned it wasn’t my idea, and why I’d agreed.
‘What changed your mind?’ Ludis asked.
‘I didn’t. The captain approached me. She wants to improve kin kids’ reputation.’
Ludis sank into the sofa. ‘Well, you could do that.’
I snorted.
‘If you’re so dismissive, why go along with it? Why not say no, like you did for nav shifts?’
Did I have to admit this? He’d dislike my vengeful reasoning, and representing old Earth was too sappy for me to say aloud. I glanced at the floor and back up, but he was still waiting. ‘I want to prove I can.’ There, that was honest.
‘And?’
I sighed. ‘She’d already told the committee. If I withdrew, the crew would think I’d put my name forward and lost my nerve.’
‘The crew will be too busy complaining about their own chances to bother you. Even if they weren’t, you didn’t put your name forward, the captain did. They’d know that.’
‘Would they?’
Ludis sighed. ‘Why did she make so much effort for…’ He grimaced and lapsed into silence.
‘I’m a nobody, I know. Maybe Rima thinks beating a few tank kids to a spot will change things.’
Ludis closed his eyes. ‘You need to stop treating us like a unit.’
‘They treat me like a disease.’
‘I don’t.’
I hung my head. He was right. I was being childish and petty, but space me if it didn’t feel good to hit back. Vindictive or not, I was taking a place on that shortlist.
‘If you get through, give the other applicants a chance, please.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ And I would. Later.
&nb
sp; Ludis nudged my shoulder. ‘You’ll need the company. I’d sign up, but civil service wasn’t required. No need to organise rooms on a new planet.’
I rolled my eyes as the tension dissipated. ‘How’s your Mum?’
His chin dropped. ‘She cornered me about my video.’
That’s right, he’d turned eighteen. His video would have been available for at least the last week. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t watched it already. What did she say?’
‘That I owed it to my bio parents to listen to their message.’
‘But?’
‘I don’t want to hurt her.’
‘She sounds supportive.’
‘For the moment, but it’s not the right time. She sobbed for hours after the announcement, talked about how Dad was six years from our new home. How can hearing the first and final words from my bio parents not be a bad idea?’
‘You can’t deny yourself because she might change her mind.’
‘Deny myself? I’m happy to ignore it.’
‘You’re happy to ignore the only contact with your bio parents? Aren’t you curious?’ Tank kids guessed where their parents had lived, and how they might have fit into the old world, since they could walk and talk. How had he hidden disinterest?
‘Ashoka went quiet after his video, lost inside himself,’ he said.
‘Lost? Ashoka? He’s the bubbliest tank kid around.’
‘I know. And Ratan… well, you noted the difference in him. Final exam time.’
‘That’s why he threw himself into work?’
Ratan had gone from mute to joining the voices against me. His jaw had grown stiffer, his back straighter, and he’d demanded more from everyone. He’d exceeded expectations when he’d buckled down and studied hard enough to meet his astronomical standards.
‘He told me his bio parents showed him how important it was for this mission to work, how much we have to rebuild.’
Ludis dug around in his pocket and pulled out a charger.
I plucked the pill from his hand and threw it over my shoulder. ‘That’s not going to help. Talk to me.’