by Lisa Jade
Something catches my eye and I pause. The rucksack Alice handed me back at home is still slumped in the corner, a slightly tattered blot in the otherwise pristine room. Guilt stabs at me. She had wanted to go for a picnic. It’s bad enough that I ran away, but did I have to take their lunch, too?
I move to pick it up, then stop myself. I can’t. This is something that needs to remain untouched. I pull my hand back and wait for Lucinda.
When she finally declares completion, I find it hard to look away. The dress she wears is skin-tight and does little to contain her ample chest. She wears crimson lipstick and heels so high that I wonder how she doesn’t topple over.
“What do you think?” she asks, her smile betraying her. She knows exactly how good she looks.
“I’ve never seen anyone quite like you before,” I mutter.
She seems happy with that.
“Alright. Isaac is meeting us at the entrance to the Oasis.”
“What’s that?”
“I thought you knew. The Oasis is like an artificial beach in the ship, with a faux coastline and everything. There are launch parties right across the ship, of course – but the Oasis is supposed to be the best.”
I swallow hard. A party doesn’t exactly sound appealing. I never had parties growing up, nor did I go to anyone else’s. Something tells me that this won’t involve clowns and balloons, either. Perhaps my nerves show, because she shoots a smile my way.
“You’ll be fine. Just keep your head down and do as I ask. Trust me.”
Stepping into the hallway is enough to send my heart racing. I consider the possibility of encountering the same crew member as before; the one who glimpsed my face. I shake the thought away. They’d seemed fairly convinced that the stowaway was dead. Not only that, but this ship is huge. There’s a good chance that by the time I meet him, if I do at all, the event will have slipped his mind entirely.
Someone passes by with their Companion in tow, and to my surprise, the girl trailing behind shoots a small smile at me. It catches me off guard, and by the time I’ve registered the expression and decided to return it, they’re gone.
I suppose I should be happy. They didn’t seem suspicious. Just to be sure, I tug the jacket sleeve down a little more.
In fact, the more people we pass, the more comfortable I feel. It’s okay. Nobody has snapped their head towards me, pointing and screaming that I’m not supposed to be here. Nobody has even noticed me.
Just like that, my shoulders relax. There’s nobody here from Four. No Operators, either. There’s not a soul aboard this ship who knows me.
It’s strange, though. Nearly everyone we pass is around the same age as us – passengers and Companions alike. Nobody seems older than thirty, aside from the crew. I learn to recognise them quickly, picking the white and gold uniforms out from the crowd of excitable twenty-somethings. They seem professional enough, though I wouldn’t dream of opposing them. They might not be like the Operators, but I’m infinitely more afraid of the crew. Specifically, of the firearms hanging from their belts.
After what seems like an eternity of walking, we approach a large, ornate door. Isaac stands outside, dressed in jeans and a striped shirt. He waves as we approach.
“Hey,” he says, “Quinn, you scrub up well!”
I ignore the heat in my face and smile. Beside me, Lucinda scoffs.
“Hey. I’m here too, you know. Where’s my compliment?”
“You look alright, I guess.”
She pokes out her tongue and he chuckles.
“Fair warning, it’s going to get a bit chaotic in here.”
My stomach churns.
“It is?”
“Don’t worry. The alcohol hasn’t even come out yet.”
I’m not sure how that’s supposed to be better – but as I step forward to open the door for them, I’m at least aware that I’m about to enter a very sober form of chaos.
The Oasis is aptly named, I’ll give it that. The centre of the room is a heavenly blue pool surrounded by small plants and glowing white sand. Pathways made of pebbles work their way up and down the little beach, leading to decked areas with small huts that are already packed with people. I take a deep breath. It’s humid, too, just like beaches are supposed to be. There’s even a flawless blue sky painted overhead. A metal walkway leads across the water, suggesting that the pool is purely aesthetic. There are no windows. Shame.
Isaac fires a glum smile my way.
“You’ll see the stars soon,” he tells me, “but we have social obligations, too.”
“Of course.”
I obediently get Lucinda and Isaac some drinks while they launch into conversation with one of their old friends. When I return, I stand motionless behind them.
“So no alcohol yet?”
The woman speaking with them is as gorgeous as Lucinda, with dark skin and a long, thin nose. Her hair was once dark, it seems – but it’s been dyed crimson. It hangs poker straight around her face, giving her a sleek, dignified look.
“Nah,” Lucinda says, “The Captain says no alcohol until everything’s stabilised. Safety protocol, or something like that.”
“Makes sense, but it’s no fun. Oh, who’s this?”
The red-haired girl fixes me in her gaze and I cringe inwardly. Nobody told me what to do in this situation. Is it a ‘speak only when you’re spoken to’ deal? Why didn’t I ask this sooner?
Eventually, I let out a small ‘hello’. The girl beams.
“Luci! I thought you hated the idea of a Companion. Just last week you were saying it was slave labour and totally undignified. You nearly talked me out of it!”
Lucinda lets out a laugh and scoops her drink from my hand.
“Poor Quinn hadn’t been selected yet,” she says, “and Dad had been nagging me about needing someone to look after me during the journey. So I threw the poor girl a bone and hired her.”
It’s amazing. I’ve never seen anyone lie so naturally. It’s like second nature to her. I can’t help but feel a little impressed by it. The other girl nods, then waves a hand at the mousy girl standing behind her.
“I get it. I hired Terri on a whim, too. On the one hand, I don’t need anyone to babysit me. But then I thought it might be nice to have someone to talk to when things are quiet – though from what I’ve heard, there won’t be much time to rest! Supposedly, Gene Cruises always end up a little rowdy. Terri’s prepared for that. Are you, Quinn?”
For a moment, I don’t react. I’m still not sure if I’m supposed to speak or not. But then Lucinda claps me on the back and lets out a vibrant laugh.
“Go easy on her, Sabina. She’ll get used to it. She’s not here to socialise, though.”
“Let me guess. You want to visit Orithyia?”
Sabina looks me up and down, eyes narrowed as though she can tell something is amiss. Perhaps I seem distracted. Maybe she can tell that my genetics don’t meet the standard of her own Companion. I nod.
“So,” she asks, “what’s your expertise?”
I gulp. I had forgotten all about that. Early in the Scheme tests, I’d been told that all successful applicants have some kind of specialist skill or knowledge. Mechanics, Science, even just a great knowledge of Literature. It’s not technically a requirement, but it’s considered useful if you want to get onto the Scheme; a way to contribute to society on Orithyia, in spite of our flawed genetics. I hadn’t given it much thought, since I never intended to stay on Orithyia in the first place.
“Astronomy.”
I draw my lips into a small smile, hoping the lie is somewhat convincing. In truth, I don’t have a specialist skill. But few people seem interested in Astronomy, and at least now I can answer most questions someone might throw at me. Sabina smiles.
“Very impressive! Terri is a trained medical practitioner – a Doctor, you know. She was even trained to use the ship’s advanced Medbays, so that she could practice medicine on Orithyia. Isn’t that right?”
The girl behind
her simply nods. But as the others turn away and change the subject, she maintains eye contact with me for a moment longer. Terri seems about my age, with close-cropped mousy hair and deep skin that makes her eyes glow. She smiles at me, then subtly rolls her eyes. It takes a moment for me to realise she’s referring to the passengers. That we’re sharing a moment of ‘typical snobs’.
Huh. So even the Companions from Three aren’t exactly pleased at serving these guys. In another time, I might have considered it slave labour. But tickets for the Neptune cost more than what Dad makes in a decade. Two years of employment is actually a good deal.
In spite of myself, I yawn. My eyelids feel oddly heavy – though that could easily be the makeup. I sway a little on the spot, my ankles already aching from these shoes. Perhaps my discomfort shows, because Isaac catches my eye and pulls his face into a glum smile. He’s not exactly comfortable with this either, it seems. That might be my saving grace on this trip.
Silence suddenly falls across the room, and as I glance around, I realise that all eyes are on the entrance behind us. There, standing proudly in the doorway, is a man who sends shivers through me.
He’s by far the tallest man I’ve seen, even taller than Isaac - though unlike Isaac, this man has a broad chest and wide shoulders to balance him out and make him even more intimidating. He surveys the room with a mix of confidence and domination, as though he unquestionably owns everything that lies before him. There are fine lines starting to form around his amber-brown eyes, betraying his otherwise youthful appearance. A number of crew members stand to attention beside him, each in their white and gold uniforms. Each one stands impeccably to attention, glancing at him with a strange mix of awe, respect and fear.
Someone mutters behind me.
“I didn’t know the Captain was coming.”
The Captain?! Suddenly, my heart is in my throat. I swallow hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral. He’s close. Too close. Is there any chance that the Captain would have monitored the Companion Scheme applicants? I had hoped to remain unnoticed for as long as possible – but there he stands, the one man who might know me and would have the ability to decide my fate. Only a matter of footsteps away.
Lucinda tuts.
“Always the show off, isn’t he?”
Isaac shoots her a warning look.
“Careful.”
“He can’t hear me. He’s too busy soaking up the adoration.”
I open my mouth to ask how they know him, but think better of it. Now’s not the time to start asking questions.
The Captain steps into the room, his entourage still behind him. Slowly, the silence breaks and conversation once more fills the room. I take a small step away from the others. I’m in way over my head. All I wanted was to see the stars and now…
But then the Captain turns our way, and Lucinda raises a hand in greeting. Oh, no. Please don’t come over here.
“Hey,” she beams, “this way.”
As he approaches, both Lucinda and Isaac shift. Lucinda throws a loose arm around the Captain’s shoulders, pulling him into a half-hug. He does little to reciprocate. Isaac catches my eye, and I see my own concern reflected back at me. He’s worried too, though his expression is tinged with exhaustion. Like he’s been here before. He shifts his weight away from the older man, folding his arms and looking pointedly away. Like he could ignore him altogether.
“Great speech,” Lucinda lies, “it was inspiring, as always.”
“I didn’t see you in the crowd.”
I shudder at the Captain’s voice, which is as deep and intimidating as the rest of him. He’s nothing short of terrifying; but he hasn’t looked my way yet. I don’t think he knows I’m here.
Lucinda throws back her head in laughter.
“Of course we were there. We stayed out of the way, of course. Since we’ve attended so many of your speeches in the past, we allowed other people to go ahead.”
It’s strange. Though I’ve only known Lucinda for a few hours, her behaviour seems oddly false. There’s something about the overly-wide smile that makes it seem like she’s trying too hard to be sweet. Isaac must pick up on it too; he grimaces.
“Yeah, great speech,” he echoes, but the words sound hollow. Both the Captain and Lucinda watch him for a moment, one blank, one conflicted, before turning back to one another.
“Are you all settled in?” the Captain asks.
“Yes. The rooms are beautiful. I don’t even know if I’ll need all that space! Thank you for getting us the special rooms, it’s such a nice gesture.”
“Being Captain has some perks, after all. Besides, with any luck you won’t be in that big room alone for very long. Infants take up space, you know.”
His stern expression breaks a little at that, and his straight, tight-lipped mouth dares to curl up in one corner. The closest I imagine he ever gets to a smile.
A warm hand touches mine.
“Follow me,” Isaac whispers.
I glance at Lucinda. She seems perfectly content, and the Captain hasn’t even glanced this way. Neither one will notice or care if we sneak off.
I take Isaac’s hand and follow him from the Oasis.
“Where are we going?”
“To the Ballroom. Now the parties have started, it should be empty. The view should be pretty clear from there.”
My heart is in my throat.
“Does that mean…”
“You wanted to see the stars, right?”
I gasp.
“Really? You’ll take me to see them?”
“Look, you definitely don’t want to be hanging around the Captain. It’s risky for you to be there right now – so why not spend a few minutes with me?”
And then he smiles, and the smile is so genuine that I can’t help but return it. He tightens his grip on my hand.
“Alright,” I mutter, “You’re the boss.”
Isaac stops outside of a large set of ornate doors, and turns to face me.
“Close your eyes, okay?”
“Why?”
“I came up here while you two were getting ready. I’ve already seen it, and damn it if it’s not amazing. And that’s coming from me – I don’t even like this stuff that much. You’ll be blown away. So let me surprise you with it.”
I watch him for a long moment, still unsure. This man makes me nervous. Perhaps it’s because he knows too much, or that he could turn me in to the crew if I upset him. But that doesn’t ring true, somehow. No, he unnerves me because there’s no way he’d turn me in. He unnerves me because I’ve never known someone so genuine.
The highest I’ve been on Pyre is Two. The looks I’d get there were always the same; a combination of pride in their own, superior genes, and pity for my failure.
Isaac isn’t like that. He looks at me like he’s unsure how to approach me or interact with me. Like I’m some entirely new creature he’s never encountered before. Still, he’s willing to give me a chance.
I sigh and allow my eyes to slip shut.
“Fine. Happy now?”
“Good. Now take my hand.”
Isaac leads me into a room, and somehow, I can tell that it’s huge in here. There’s an echo with every footstep. The ground feels rock-hard under my feet. I try to remember the Ballroom pictures from the brochure. Marble floor, right? Columns of alabaster stone lining the room, and a great glass dome overhead. All designed to reveal snatches of the universe from every angle.
“Nearly there,” he says, excitement in his voice. I tighten my grip on his hand, staring intently at the inside of my eyelids. Isaac stands behind me, warm hands resting on my shoulders. He leans in just close enough that I can pick up the scent of his skin, and feel the gentle tickle of his hair against my neck.
“Open your eyes.”
I don’t move. Why am I not moving?
“I said, you can open your eyes.”
“I know. But…”
I bite my lip, ignoring the way it starts to wobble. What’s wr
ong? Why is there a sudden heat in my cheeks, and a strange prickling sensation behind my eyes? Why do I feel like I’m about to burst into tears? Since that night at the Drop-off, I promised I wouldn’t cry anymore. But I can’t shake this new, terrible thought.
What if it’s not worth it?
What if the universe is nothing like what I expected? What if it’s not worth all I’ve given up to get here? A voice screams at me from within my own head.
Dad will never forgive you. You’ll likely never get home. Hell, you’ll be lucky not to die before you make it to Orithyia. You’ve thrown away your whole life for a sight and a feeling – and you don’t even know if it’s worthwhile.
Isaac releases my shoulders.
“Quinn, are you alright?”
I allow my hands to curl into fists.
“I need a moment.”
And now I create my own voice, screaming down the other one. Of course it’ll be worth it. It’s not about how pretty it is, or what I’ve given up. It’s where I am, it’s what it means. To be so far from Earth. To feel free. It’s going to be worth it.
It has to be.
Nine
I force my eyes open.
In an instant my knees begin to tremble, but I hold still and lift my gaze from the marble floor. Across the room, to where the great glass wall curves around us, forming an endless backdrop. Beyond the ship lies an infinite sense of nothing – and somehow, simultaneously, everything. There’s inky blackness as far as the eye can see, punctuated occasionally by the glimmer of a star.
I turn the other way and gasp.
Earth lies below us like a grey-green marble, oddly neat against the smattering of stars. I squint at it, vaguely picking up the shape of the Mainland. The sun must be setting on Pyre right about now.
The thought strikes me that Dad may be staring up right now too, looking for me, but I brush the thought aside. I can’t think about it, not even for a second, or I’ll grind to a halt. Instead, I walk on unsteady legs, making a beeline for the window.
Earth resembles something someone may once have painted, back when people still used paint. There’s something gorgeous about the forms of land, and the swirls of white-green clouds hanging over the grey oceans. The land is grey too, a tell-tale sign of the cities that strangle the land. I strain my eyes looking for something - some sliver of green, some patch of ocean that’s bluer than the rest. Nothing.