Wash

by Naomi Fraser

  “Yes, Marcus said so in the tavern.”

  Someone coughs behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see Marcus.

  One side of his lips tilt in a grin. “I think my ears are burning.”

  “So why’d you do it?” April asks.

  “They were torturing my sister because I wouldn’t suck all the water from another planet. I couldn’t think straight.”

  April’s about to go through another doorway, but she stops and then stares at me with an open mouth. “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  She raises her eyebrows, shakes her head and then keeps strolling along the walkways. “Storage tanks are up ahead in another part of the ship. Just through this door.”

  I follow her over the threshold, slipping my hand on the rail to descend a metal staircase. A huge, dark cylinder rises at least three floors. I place my hands on the metal. The water’s vibration is lower than I think, and I crouch down, sliding my fingertips to the base. “Geoff was right. Give me a second here.”

  “Take your time.” Marcus’s voice is brusque.

  I stare up at him, and the blue crawls from my shoulders, down my elbows and then to my hands. Water droplets prickle my scalp. A soft overhead light shines across his brown hair, right cheek, and broad shoulder. His lips are thin and uncompromising, but I can’t read the expression in his eyes.

  I suck in a breath, rattled, and then turn my attention back to the water storage unit. I close my eyes, feeling all the empty spaces. The blue is cold at first as it pushes through my feet and up through my body. Then I release the metal, leaving damp handprints.

  “It’s done.”

  “Just like that. Endless hot showers.” April hums beside me. “You know, you can stay as long as you like.”

  I laugh up at her and stand. “Only I don’t heat the water. My nana could, but she manipulated fire.”

  “Still, you’re a handy girl to have around,” April says. “Never running out of water? Priceless.”

  “I can do more with my water than providing enough for showers or for satisfying thirst, like—”

  “Interesting family tree you have there,” Marcus interrupts. “Both water and fire.”

  I lift my chin and meet his gaze. “Is that a problem?”

  A slow frown darkens his expression. “Problem? With you? No.” He pauses. “I have a mission. My crew left with the expectation of earning a wage.”

  “I understand.”

  He shakes his head. “I had no idea I’d be bringing back a woman.”

  I blink, aware of what he’s saying. It’s easy to trade a machine, not so when people are involved. “I won’t betray you. If you help me save my sister and get us away from Detera, I will give you everything you need.”

  Silence falls for a few seconds, then he mutters, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.” He turns and descends another staircase

  I watch his retreating back, then spin to face April. “I don’t understand,” I murmur, wondering if I made some irreparable social error. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Her shoulders drop with her exhale. “No. Cap’n is just a little touchy. Ignore him. He got traded in for a newer model.”

  I narrow my eyes on her. “He’s not a synthetic human.”

  She laughs. “I don’t mean it that way. His ex dumped him a few years ago. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

  Chapter Eight

  Saving Maybelle has always been my goal since we were kidnapped, but Astrakhan never tutored me on how to live with myself when my objective conflicts with my morals. How to cope when I need to do something I don’t like to get the outcome I do.

  Life outside the facility is changing all my preconceived notions about who I am, showing me another side of my personality. I never thought I would ever have to kill people for my freedom.

  I trace the small flame tattoo on my right shoulder, and Nana’s comforting presence fills my mind. Hot water relaxes my muscles, and I sigh after washing my hair with shampoo and conditioner, turning off the shower taps. I whisk aside the plastic curtain, and then climb out the cabin shower.

  I have found a way off Detera, Nana, and I will save Maybelle. I won’t let you down.

  “I know I have a responsibility bigger than myself here,” I whisper to my reflection in the small mirror.

  When mercenaries shot her in the chest, Nana gargled in pain, but even in her old age, her eyes could compel. Her dark gaze cut straight through to my heart with determination. Then she burst into flame, tunnelling across the room in a bright stream. Her inferno struck the bare skin of my shoulder, knocking me off my feet.

  I erupted into flame, scorching the men holding me captive. My water kept me alive as I fell through the walls of her small home. I laid on my back with bits of rubble and embers raining down like dying stars.

  When I woke up in the cargo hull of the mercenaries’ spaceship with the taste of smoke in my mouth and my sister at my side, the mark on my shoulder had healed to a small flame.

  Nana never leaves my side.

  My hair snarls in a thick mat, so I detangle the strands with a comb on the basin and then exit the bathroom. Steam billows out in huge, grey clouds, and I evaporate the water on my skin without a second thought to slip on a white singlet left on the small dresser. The soft material floats to my waist, and it’s a joy to no longer be wearing the painful corset. The serviceable green trousers and belt are strange. They’re different to my borrowed walking skirt and the thin, cotton jumpsuits I wore whilst captive in Oshiro.

  A sharp knock on the door makes me suck in a hard breath, and I square my shoulders. “Come in.”

  The door swings wide. “Ready?” April grins. “The captain wants to talk to you in the control room. Altiosn’s leaders need proof. Constance isn’t getting far with them.”

  I nod, having expected that, but I can’t help swallowing. My shoulder heats beneath my rubbing fingers.

  April frowns and flicks her gaze to my hand. “Cool tat.” She tilts her head, her dark eyes worried. “You okay?”

  “Sure.” I nod.

  “Come on then, let’s do this.”

  April steps back through the door, and I follow, but my Old Order boots seem so ridiculous with the plain green trousers and skinny belt. I’m a mismatched being in more ways than one. The ends of my long, blonde hair tickle the backs of my arms, clean and combed, but I’ve never been so unprepared for the biggest trade of my life. I only hope Altiosn’s leaders haven’t seen the broadcast for a billion credits.

  Many of the walkways are dimly lit, and a faint waft of air-conditioning blows through slatted vents, which makes it possible to breathe in the narrower parts of the ship. The engine’s muted roar increases the closer we come to an open staircase, and the metal railings shake as we descend. At the bottom, April leads me through an area I can only class as a relaxation zone, and once we’re through a narrow hall that’s locked at both ends, we pass a greenhouse.

  I stop, splaying my hand against the glass. Running my fingertips along the cool surface, my gaze rivets on the plants inside. The tip of my tongue burns with requesting the hard specifics about their irrigation system, but I have more important things to worry about today. Maybelle needs me.

  “Here we are,” April says a second before we come to a curved door.

  Everyone except Rick crowds the control room, and my back straightens. A strange uncertainty locks my muscles, and I stare into a wide screen on the far right. Three men in dark suits speak to Constance in cultured Altese. It’s one of the many languages I’ve been schooled in—I’m not fluent, but I know the basics—and I can tell they’re being recalcitrant.

  I expect nothing less for three million credits.

  Constance leans toward the counter, her hand fisting a microphone, dark hair in an unkempt bun. “I understand you don’t believe us, but just hold the line, and you’ll see we’re not lying.”

  Marcus angles closer to the screen. “Wh
at are they saying?”

  April stalks in from the shadows and clears her throat, obviously to let the others know of our arrival. Constance and Marcus peer over their shoulders at us, and as Marcus’s gaze lands on me, a slow, secret smile curves his lips, and he walks closer to me, until some type of pain unexpectedly flickers across his eyes. He checks himself, spinning away to look at the screen.

  Casey lets out a low whistle next to Sarah at the ship’s controls.

  Marcus glares at him from across the room.

  “Here she is,” Constance says to the men on the screen in Altese, then she looks up again. “Victoria, they want proof you are a water healer.”

  I nod at Constance, thanking her with a smile. She stands and shifts to the side, gesturing toward the empty chair. Altiosn’s leaders stop talking and frown at me.

  I ease into the chair facing the screen. “Greetings. Thank you for participating in this trade,” I say in Altese, leaning in toward the panel, trying to quash the idea they’re laying a trap for me. “I understand your reluctance and that you want proof.”

  “No trade will take place until we are certain,” the middle person responds. His eyes narrow on my face. “Three million, one thousand credits is a lot of money.”

  Brows raised, I turn to Constance.

  She slides a note across the desk. The extra money is for your clothes and care whilst on board. Plus your sister’s.

  I nod; chagrined something so basic hadn’t occurred to me. She is right. “Yes, but I am worth every credit,” I say in a gentle voice.

  Smiling, I curve my palms into a ball shape, drawing a water sphere.

  *

  The capital city of Erwin is a mass of dry land and metal buildings. Ships dock in a rectangular yard, outlined by cranes and hoists designed to slot ships into their allotted cradles. All around me, the clanking of metal against metal and the whine of giant robotic arms merges with the low rumble of engines.

  “Well, if this place isn’t the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” Marcus drawls, sauntering down the gangplank, gun drawn. “Casey, pull up behind. We don’t want to get surprised here.”

  Casey nods, looking down the sight of his gun behind us. Constance winds her saddlebag strap over her shoulder and grins at me.

  I sigh at both men. “Honestly, I doubt the guns will be necessary. They’re not out to hurt us. This transaction needs to be respectf—”

  A loud bang reverberates three paces ahead, and Marcus’s stance changes to one of intense alertness. “What was that?”

  “I—”

  “If this goes downhill, you get yourself back to the ship. I don’t care what you have to do to get there. Just do it.”

  I meet Marcus’s dark gaze and nod uncertainly. “Oh . . . all . . . right.”

  “I mean it, Victoria. Kill if you have to.” He lifts his gun and then aims in the direction of the noise. “You can try to find a way to live with yourself later. That goes for you, too, Constance. ‘Cause they sure aren’t going to hesitate to kill anyone else.”

  “We have to meet the government officials at APEC,” I murmur. “In thirty minutes.”

  Marcus nods, then looks back at Casey. “Let’s do business.”

  “What’s your planet like?” I ask before I think to be careful of what I say, but for some reason I want to get to know Marcus better. “If this is so strange?”

  “My world is dying, but it doesn’t look anything like this.” He scans the tall, grey buildings before us. “Looks like toothpicks will be metal here.”

  I laugh and say, “My world is different yet again. It is one of contrasts. Great lakes, lush forests, and plantations. Sterile habitats for people like me.”

  He looks at me seriously. “There are more people like you? I need to visit this Echyion.”

  I smile and shake my head. “I’m not sure there are anymore.” The sun sinks behind a smog-ridden horizon, turning the clouds murky pink against the distant skyscrapers. The tips of Marcus’s hair turn rosy. “There used to be other water healers, but my granddad was the only one I knew of before me. I never met him, just seen photographs at the facility and at my nana’s.” I cast Marcus another side glance. “I don’t know the whereabouts of other elementals and—”

  “It mightn’t be on the level.” Constance steps between us. She frowns at the nav guide in her left hand and then scratches her head. “Marcus you mentioned the bulletin for one billion credits. I wonder if they have seen it here? All the water healer welcomes I’ve read about in the last three hours were done with more fanfare. How often did you visit other planets to trade, Victoria?”

  “When I lived on my home planet, never. And once with the Oshiro government, but I was caged, and my sister was somewhere else,” I say. “Leaders came to us on Echyion. The elders led the trade via Astrakhan.”

  She sighs and grits her teeth. “That’s so frustrating. I could help more if I knew what to expect. Politically, the Altese will see you as very valuable, but with the reward, I worry it will create a target on your back, and they’ll kidnap you.”

  “Yeah, you’re not the only one,” Marcus growls. “And that means all the crew’s in danger. Best be on our guard.”

  “It still doesn’t explain why they haven’t sent an official welcome.” Constance taps the screen, her head bent as she bites her lip. She pushes back her fringe and frowns at me. “Why wouldn’t they try to hide their true intentions if they wanted to take you? They have official welcomes for visiting dignitaries and sovereign leaders. Someone as valuable as you? Definitely. Captain,” she says over my head, “I need more information before I can say for sure this will go well. Since Victoria doesn’t know and hasn’t the information on her grandfather’s trades, it’s difficult to gauge the success of the mission. I suggest we abort before it’s too late.”

  I stiffen. “I need that Med Gen Capsule.”

  “Just until we get more inform—”

  “Constance.” Marcus’s eyes grow flinty. “Put away that damn map, and grab your gun.”

  Casey chuckles behind us when before he’s been utterly silent. “Yeah, you never know. She might kill someone with it if she’s got a good throwing arm,” he says in his smoky voice. “Isn’t that right, Constance?”

  She tosses him an aggravated, haughty look. “Knowledge is power.”

  “Let’s all live long enough to get some,” Marcus says.

  “Where’s April?” I ask.

  “She’s . . . busy.” Marcus shrugs.

  I frown, stepping closer to him. “Won’t we need her?”

  “I’m the captain of the ship. I say Chester needs both Zach and April to keep an eye on your sister.”

  I press my lips together, nodding. His care for my sister surprises me. Marcus leads us down a flight of stairs, and then Constance points the way through the sudden crowd. We cross a bridge that covers nothing but a ditch filled with ship scrap metal, and then venture onto a footpath beside a road.

  The roar of traffic deafens me for a second, but my gaze zeroes in on a feeble old woman gripping the handle of her cane. Her hand shakes, and the metal support wobbles.

  I rush to help, but she drops into the driver’s seat of a light grey car without touching the handle, and the door shuts after she’s seated.

  Pictures of these cars were shown to me in the facility, but in Oshiro, everyone used hovercrafts for transportation. I’ve never seen a car like this in real life.

  Constance stops beside me, and a cool winds whips my hair, biting through my clothes as we stand on the gutter. The elderly lady presses information into her integrated nav guide, buckles up, and then the car takes off with perfect timing. She doesn’t look for oncoming traffic and isn’t even holding the steering wheel. The car smoothly accelerates away.

  I step back from the noise into the shade, my mind in turmoil. “What . . . How? There’s so many cars. How did she do that? I thought she would have crashed for sure. Is it an automatic driver?”

  “Se
nsors,” Marcus says, stepping up beside me. “If they’re in the cars, then they’re everywhere in this city. I’d say there’s been no accidents here for a long time.”

  I turn to him. “Tachyon sensors?”

  He nods. “Embedded in the car, in the lines of the road, all the lights. The programming—”

  “I know. They can do what they want with them. That’s how the acting president found me in the desert. I pulled too much water from the ground, and it set off their alarms.” I rub my chin as the consequences roll through my mind. “How does it work?”

  “All the new cars have sensors embedded during the construction phase,” Constance answers. “There are distance parameters—from the lines, from lights, and other cars. If they’re about to hit another car, the wheels will lock. The car doesn’t slide into another one because satellites pick up the weather conditions before they take off. Then the car automatically drives to the conditions whether the person wants to or not. The cars are also designed not to slide. The sensors let a driver merge with traffic when there’s no chance of collision.”

  “Collision-free driving.”

  “Error-free driving,” he mutters, staring at the cars, almost zoned out. “They would’ve rebuilt the roads from the ground up. Started all over again. There are sensors in the roads, in the lines, the lights, like I said. But there’s big money involved.” His shoulder muscles bunch, and he rubs the back of his neck.

  “What happens if it’s an emergency?” I ask. “And you need to go faster?”

  “They type in the details on the nav guide. Everyone else’s car moves over or is delayed with a warning on the screen as to why. Most don’t mind. They have selected playlists, audio books, or movies to keep them occupied for a few moments, and then their car goes again.” Constance shrugs. “It’s a simple design.”

  I shake my head. “I just can’t . . . Are they in the people, too?” An impending horror fills my chest.

  “I’m not sure. My ex-father-in-law is the inventor,” Marcus says, his tone heavy.