Wash

by Naomi Fraser

  Qelia’s twin suns glare at me in accusation two days later as I reroute the hovercraft toward the Liberty. The glowing, orange orbs sink into the horizon, and I fly on automatic, too exhausted to pilot on manual. Knowing what I have to do fills my every cell, and I try to fight it. To say the words out loud means to set in motion things that can’t be changed back.

  When all that’s left in the sky is a melting, red-yellow afterglow, the land turns into a dark grey plain, reminding me of a dead sea. My conscience prods and body aches, so I cross my wrists before it’s too late to do so. The bracelets meet, and a small hologram tugs at the air, pulling open a vibrating window.

  Marcus answers after five seconds. “Victoria.” He grins at me from the screen. “You’re finished?”

  “Yes.” It’s so good to see his face, but I can’t tell him that. “I’m on my way to the Liberty. There were last minute people I needed to help,” I say, my eyelids drooping. “I should be there in about ten minutes. How’s Maybelle?”

  “Here she is.” He turns and holds out a hand. “See for yourself.”

  “Sis.” Her small, smiling face pops up on the hologram. She jumps up and down, then she crawls up into the seat beside Marcus.

  Constance and April appear behind Marcus’s chair. “Hey Victoria,” they say.

  “Hi everyone.” I smile. “May,” I hear the creamy note of happiness in my voice, “I’ve missed you.”

  “I miss you, too.” She clutches a dolly to her chest. “Marcus let me play with his brothers and sisters. Geoff is teaching me to cook, and I got to fly the hovercraft,” she says in a rush. “Marcus’s mama gave me this baby doll.” May pushes out the dolly with both hands, as though she expects me to grab it through the hologram.

  I laugh even as a knife of despair slices into my chest. It’s impossible to share a day like that with her. “I’m glad, bub.” Tears threaten to spill. “You deserve to have fun.”

  May scampers away, and Marcus turns back to me. “You look just about done in. Best thing for you would be a few days of rest.”

  “Not possible.” I rub my forehead, leaning back in the immobilization seat until the pads rest against my cheeks. I force my eyes to remain open. “I’ll have to go back to headquarters.”

  “Everyone needs a day of rest. Well, see you when you get here. Fly safe, Victoria.” A thread of tenderness warms his voice. “Your sister is safe. Don’t worry about her.” He closes the hologram, and I grip the armrests, unable to stop my eyelids descending.

  A loud beep wakes me up, and I open my eyes, disorientated to see the hovercraft’s lights shining onto the Liberty’s exterior. I made it. I press the dome release and climb out with a groan. My body stiffens, but I’m unwilling to use my water again tonight. If a rock presents itself, I might just lie down and nap for a week.

  Marcus strides out of the dock, and he’s holding May’s hand. The gleam of the interior light turns his hair into an amber halo, and May tugs free of him and then runs to me.

  I kneel, collecting her close, breathing in the sweet, little girl scent of her. She smells of sunshine and energy as if she’s been playing outside all day. I can’t say anything, my heart feels too full.

  Her soft, downy arms wrap around my neck, and I give her one last squeeze, then stand and turn to Marcus. “You took care of her.” I shake and have trouble expressing exactly how much it means to me. She’s my world. Impulsively, I reach up to his cheek, pressing my lips against his firm, smooth skin. Then I quickly step back, and a rush of heat fires in my cheeks. Worse, my tongue wets my lips, tasting the warm salt of his skin. “Thank you.”

  His eyes darken as they hold mine, and then his gaze drops to my mouth, his pupils dilating. A tremor passes through me as he reaches out, trailing a fingertip down my arm. “Welcome back.”

  Weakness surges through my legs. I rest my hands against the hovercraft, dragging in a deep breath, thinking I’m about to black out.

  “You’re shaking.” He frowns, tilting his head down, and a lock of brown hair falls over his forehead. He wraps his strong hands around my shoulders, thumbs rubbing gently against my chilled skin as he pulls me near. “You haven’t had any sleep, have you?”

  I manage to lift my head and meet his gaze. “They wouldn’t stop coming.” A sob breaks through my voice. “I’ve never seen such sickness. I had to keep going.”

  He stares at me like he’s only seeing me for the first time and then takes in a shuddering, deep breath. “C’mere.” He sweeps me off my feet, and I murmur a protest, but he just tells me to shush.

  I speak before the temptation to close my eyes becomes too great. “I still have to see your mother again.” Then I lean into his chest, wrapping my right arm around his back, unable to resist breathing in his sharp masculine scent. The heat from his skin radiates through his clothes.

  His arms tighten around me, pulling me into rock hard muscles until his soft breath warms my hair. I hear the thud of his footsteps on the stairs and May’s chatter, feel the slight jostle in his arms at the landing, and the sound of his heartbeat makes my muscles go lax.

  The rumble of the spaceship’s engines have me smiling in comfort, and I drop every bit of tension I’ve been carrying.

  Something soft dips beneath me, and my neck and cheek rests against a feather cushion. A blanket drops over my body, then rough calluses wipe the dried tears from my face. His hands leave my skin, but a tingling warmth stays, and I know by the ease down my spine he hasn’t left me alone.

  *

  I awake to gunshots and throw off the covers, swinging my feet to the floor. The room spins in a sudden blur of metal cupboards and the glow from a small lamp. The scent of bacon, coffee, and toast permeates the air.

  A light voice says, “Whoa, not so fast. Cap’n says you had a tough night. I’m not surprised.”

  “Constance. Where am I?” But no sooner do I ask, the world comes to rights and the rumble forces me to remember. “The ship.”

  “Yes,” Constance says. “Cap’n is outside with your sister while she trains with Zach.” She sets a plate on a tray and pushes it closer to my bed.

  I take a deep breath and stare at my knees. I’m still in my water healer clothes. “Trains?”

  “Mm. Don’t worry. Zach’s teaching her about gun safety. When you’re ready, go have a look. For now, relax. Eat your breakfast.”

  I look up at her, but all I see is her ribcage, her heart, the black, whites, and greys. Memories assault me, and tears fill my eyes. All I see is the people’s suffering. Here I am thinking I might get a break from seeing in nothing but x-ray for two days straight. I start crying. Then unable to force back the pain, I lean forward, sobbing.

  “Hey, oh, Victoria . . .” A soft hand swipes the hair against my forehead. “Damn. What is it?”

  “How stupid.” I rub the tears from my eyes, then grip the edges of the bed, sniffling. “I don’t know why I did that. Just ignore me please. I have no reason to cry.”

  Silence reigns, then I hear the sharp creak of bedsprings as she sits beside me. “You know you’re not a machine, right? You might have been brought up by one, but you’re so much more. People cry when they’re sad, when they’re happy. It’s natural. Don’t keep it all locked up inside, because then it turns bad. It’s perfectly okay to cry. When you don’t, you deny who you are.”

  I hiccup back another sob. “It doesn’t feel okay. I know I’m not a synthetic human, but those people,” I moan, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed, the pain feeling like it’s tearing me apart. The more I try to resist, the larger it grows. I start crying again.

  “What about them? Did some die?”

  “Close to.” I swallow. “Their suffering was . . .”

  “Not what you expected?”

  I shake my head, throat thick with tears. “It’s not that.” I remember their heartfelt, profuse thanks, the crying parents, and the eventual peace, which washed away the threat of death. I realise it doesn’t matter if I’m a p
erson with feelings who longs for love and a life of my own. No wonder my grandfather ran. I can’t give in to it, because following those things means I hurt others. I cannot endure thinking I’ll leave people to suffer when they need me. “I should have been released five years ago. They’ve been living like that for too long. I can’t let them down. They’ll suffer needlessly as the last two days have shown. Their pain exceeds my needs.” I pull in a hard breath. “I’ve been taught that all my life, but experiencing it is something else. It’s just seeing in x-ray without a break . . . all this time fighting my feelings. Like the two halves of me don’t match. And I don’t want the same thing to happen to May—for her to be surrounded by sickness because of my duty. She should enjoy life. Live it.”

  “Ah.” Constance nods, rubbing a hand down my back. “It’s complicated, hey. Life can be tough.”

  “Yes. But I won’t give up on the people.” I press a fist to my breastbone, sucking in a deep, shaky breath before I release it on a long sigh. “I can’t. It’s who I am. And there’s more. I’ve been afraid to say it.”

  Her hand stills, and she falls silent.

  I can’t hide the torment on my face, don’t even want to try. My hands shake, but I turn to her. Her face finally appears in three dimensions. “I need to do something drastic. Because . . . because everything else will just be a temporary fix,” I say hopelessly.

  Her eyebrows rise, though her voice remains light. “Sounds ominous. But I trust you. We all do.”

  I continue, “Maybe you shouldn’t. Unless I do this drastic thing, the planet won’t change. Not really. It’s Qelia’s only hope.” I blow out a huge breath, relief singing through my veins. “I’ve never done it before, but I know how it works in theory.”

  “Mm.” She frowns. “How long have you known what needs to be done?”

  I don’t move, simply looking at her.

  She smiles. “Ah. Of course. You knew when you first stepped off the ship.”

  I nod. “What do you advise? I feel lost.” The admission is soft and hollow in the room.

  She presses her lips together, glances away and rubs her fingers. “We all do sometimes. When we feel that way, it can help show the direction we should go. You’ve known for a while, so that means you’ve been thinking about it for just as long. I’d say listen to Marcus before you return to the city. He might offer solutions you haven’t thought of, and whenever you need someone to watch May, I’ll be there. You’re my friend. She’s a sweet kid.”

  I smile up at her, my eyes stinging. “Thank you, Constance. You’re my friend, too.”

  She grins, stands and then heads for the door, saying, “It’s obvious you have courage, Victoria. I can’t even imagine living the life you do. You’ll find the path inside yourself eventually, figure it out. Now I have to do more work on my academic report.”

  “Wait. You’re not going to put my breaking down in there, are you?” I ask.

  Her smile is serene. “All I’m going to put in there is how you worked hard for two days to heal Flioqe’s people.” Her voice softens, and she adjust her glasses. “Let the people in the future know how lucky we all are. But, if you don’t eat your breakfast,” she says severely, “I’ll let Geoff know you don’t like his cooking.”

  “Fate worse than death.” I lean forward and promptly bite into the buttery toast.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I find Maybelle and Zach lying flat on their stomachs on the bare ground outside the Liberty. Both have their backs to me. May’s earlier caution near Zach is nowhere to be seen as she takes aim at tin cans nestling on rocks in the distance. A pink, floppy sunhat shades her small head, while long green pants roll up at her ankles, and a short-sleeved shirt under a bulletproof body-suit covers her torso. Heat vapours shimmer off the warm ground. Sweat dampens my forehead, and rivulets trickle from my temples onto my neck.

  A strange longing fills my chest. I’m not sharing this moment with her. My hand lifts to shield my eyes from the glare. Zach reaches across, his huge bicep muscles flexing as he helps May with her grasp on the rifle, and then he snaps thick muffs over her ears. A few seconds pass before he nods and gives her a thumbs up.

  And she fires.

  A can flies sideways off a rock. The crack of the shot still echoes in the thick, hot air.

  Zach pumps his fist with a huge grin on his face. I clap, approaching them with care so I don’t startle Maybelle.

  He turns first since he doesn’t have ear protection, and then May looks over her shoulder at me, pulling off her goggles and earmuffs. Her grin is one of happy accomplishment. “I got it, Tori.”

  “I was watching. Well done, bub. You’re a good shot.” I frown, recalling her aim in shooting the acting president. Beginner’s luck or was Nana on her shoulder? Maybe both, with a touch of pure necessity. A strange knot tightens in my chest. It’s all because of me. Poor girl.

  Zach’s dark gaze meets mine and then slides to May, before switching back to my face again. “Well, I guess that’s enough for now. Time to pack up,” he says, all business-like. “Engage the safety and put down the gun, just like I showed you. Constance will have a book ready on the visor.”

  May puffs out a half groan, half sigh and twists her mouth in dislike. Zach laughs, standing up and brushing his dusty hands against his pants. May engages the safety mechanism, puts down the gun with the barrel facing away from her body, and then stands, her little fingers pulling at the body suit.

  I crouch down to help her. “You did great, May,” I say in an encouraging tone, smoothing her hair over her skinny shoulder. The suit peels from her overheated back. “I didn’t know Constance was helping you read. You must’ve had fun with everyone. You have to say thank-you before we leave.”

  She wraps her arms around my neck for a hug, her soft, warm cheek sliding against mine. “I did already. But I don’t want to go,” she whines. “Do we have to?”

  “We’ll see.” I take a deep breath, give her a kiss on her cheek and then let my forehead touch hers. I don’t want to either, May. She kisses me back, and my heart feels a little lighter.

  “Love you, sis. Marcus said you were tired.” She tilts her head. “That’s why you fell asleep so fast last night.”

  Excitement flickers through me at the memory of Marcus’s arms holding me tight against his chest, the latent strength of his hard body, and the stroke of his warm fingers on my skin. Water floods my hands, so I might as well use the energy. “Stand still for me.” I cup her cheek, blue twining around my fingers before moisture seeps into her sweaty skin. “You’re so beautiful, angel.” I smile. “I’m lucky to have you for a sister. Go inside now, like Zach says.” I swallow the lump of regret in my throat. “I’ll be in there soon.”

  “Have you got a second, Victoria?” Zach unloads the rounds and stuffs them into his pocket. The huge bulk of him barely fits into his olive-green tee shirt.

  “Of course. How can I help?”

  “Connnn . . . stance.” May skips toward the dock of the ship, the big sunhat drooping up and down around her head, like a pink, circle flag. Strands of her blonde hair fly into the air with her little hops.

  A silly smile tilts my lips.

  “She’s a good kid,” Zach begins. “Listen, I know she means a lot to you, and she’s young. If you don’t want me to teach her, I won’t.” Zach’s dark brown eyes reflect sincerity. He grins in a flash of white teeth against his dusky skin. “She’s been eager as all heck to practice the last two days though.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I appreciate his directness, but my throat constricts, and the words come out as a rasp. “You’re helping. The night you showed her about guns on board Liberty was the first night she didn’t have nightmares.”

  “That so?”

  “She slept right through until morning, which hasn’t happened at all in the headquarters. Did she sleep well here without me?” I ask.

  “I was up with the weapons and didn’t hear her.” He wipes the sweat off his forehead
with the back of his hand. “But April’s the one to ask. She kept an eye on her at night. They bunked in the same room.”

  I rub my chilled fingertips over the warm skin of my upper arms. “May probably loved that. I just had breakfast, a shower, and came out, noticed all the new equipment though.” If the shooting practice helps May when I’m gone, then it’s worth it. “As long as she’s safe and follows your orders, I don’t mind.”

  “Couldn’t be safer,” a deep voice says in the shadows outside the ship, and Marcus stalks into the light, as graceful as a lion across a desert plain. The bright, blue sky emphasises the lighter sable colours in his hair, though a few sun-bleached strands shade his hard face. His tan shirt is rumpled, long pants dusty, and the wide gun belt sits low on his hips as though it’s been made for him. He rests his hands at his waist. “I’m not about to let just anyone teach your sister. Zach’s one of the best for a reason. And if trouble comes,” Marcus drawls, “I’m always watching. How did you sleep?”

  The rasp of his velvet-edged voice sends ripples of awareness along my nerves. “Uh, good. I mean, good morning.” I blow out a steadying breath. “I slept well.”

  “And woke up to Constance, no doubt, who—”

  Water braids up my fingertips, circling my wrists. My heart thunders as blue sweeps across my shoulders, neck and then trickles down my spine. Coolness saturates my nape. The slow drip-drip-drip of water onto the hard crust beneath my feet makes both men drop their gaze to stare.

  I stifle a groan under my breath, tucking my hands behind my back. If I do anything, I aim to control my water around this man.

  Marcus tries hard to fight the grin spreading across his face for a few seconds and then thumps Zach on the shoulder. “Wanna go and check on the supply of weapons before we leave.” Marcus’s voice rings with authority. It isn’t a question.

  Zach cocks his head back to grin. “Yeah, sure. Catch ya later, Victoria.” Amusement shifts across his eyes, and he moves away.

  “Bye, Zach. Thanks for helping with May,” I say in a small voice, waiting until he’s out of hearing distance before I acknowledge the pain in my heart. “Leave?”