Rain on Neptune

by Lisa Jade

  I pound down the middle of the room and rip the gun from Mom’s hands.

  “What the… Quinn!”

  I slide to a stop and whip round to face her, clutching the weapon to my chest. It terrifies me just to hold it, to know what it could do in the wrong hands – but as she reaches for it, I find my grip tightening. Right now, mine are the right hands.

  “No. I’m not giving this back to you.”

  A flicker of irritation finds its way around the room, and Mom frowns.

  “Look. I know this is hard for you. But it needs to be done. You know that. So stand aside and let me do it.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I have to.”

  Her voice is hard, pleading. Like she’s struggling with it herself. I stand firm.

  “There’s another way. I know there is. There has to be!”

  “There isn’t!” she growls, anger flashing in her eyes, “don’t you think I’ve exhausted all other options? Do you think there’s a single thing we haven’t tried? We have no choice. They need to die or Orithyia will torture hundreds. They need to die, or Pyre will forever live a lie.”

  She bears down on me again, and this time she’s faster. She yanks the firearm from my hands.

  “Red. Please restrain my daughter.”

  “Mom, no!”

  She bites her lip. This is agony for her, I can tell. Red snatches at me and pulls my hands behind my back, twisting them upward. I writhe against his grip, but he’s bigger than me and I can’t throw him off. He lets out a frustrated snarl.

  “God damn, kid. We’re trying to help you!”

  I struggle harder, and something cold touches my neck.

  “I don’t want to kill you,” he breathes, “but this is important. I can’t let you interfere.”

  I freeze, finally recognising the coldness as the barrel of a gun. It sends a flicker of fear through me. I’ve been held at gunpoint before, but not like this. Not right against my skin, where a single slip could spell disaster. I fire a hateful look his way and turn to watch the scene unfold.

  Mom looks down at Isaac, both hands still clutching her gun. Ferocity burns in her eyes again, but now it’s tinged with something else. Doubt. Isaac stares back with a look of unbridled fear. His eyes flit from her to the door and then from to Luci to me, as though he could figure out an escape if he only had enough time.

  Luci emits a small whimper from his side. She’s also entangled in the arms of a rebel, gun pressed to her head. Tears stream down her face as she watches, and I know what she’s thinking. She can’t stand by and watch her brother be slaughtered. This can’t be happening.

  Mom heaves a sigh.

  “It’s been an hour and no response. This has to be done, and now.”

  She fires Isaac a sympathetic look.

  “My apologies. This isn’t your fault – but it’s the only way. I’m sure you understand.”

  He doesn’t reply. Just lowers his head and closes his eyes. Waiting. Mom steps a little closer, resting the barrel at point-blank range. She’s trying to make it quick.

  Inside, I burn. I can’t jump in. Can’t fight her off. All I have are my words.

  Instantly, I’m petrified. My track record with words isn’t exactly good – but there’s one thing I can say. One thing that might wound her enough to bring her round.

  “You’re not Angela. You’re nothing like her.”

  She pauses, her finger still on the trigger.

  “I thought I told you to restrain her.”

  Red shrugs.

  “Can’t stop her talking. Want me to knock her out?”

  Hands find the sides of my throat, ready to press inward – but Mom sighs.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Did you hear me?” I bark, “If you do this, it’s over. I’ll never forgive you. I’ll make damn sure Dad never takes you back, either. You think he won’t side with me, if I tell him what you’ve done? He’ll see that Angela is gone, too. You’ll lose everything all over again. Only this time, no amount of fighting will bring it back.”

  She scowls.

  “In time, you’ll understand what I’m doing for you. You’ll come to appreciate it.”

  “I won’t. I swear, Angelique. If you kill anyone else, I’m done. I won’t acknowledge you. If you really did this for the sake of your family, then why would you destroy it? If you cared at all for your daughter, why kill someone she loves? There can’t be any forgiveness for that.”

  Anger licks through me.

  “Kill him,” I snarl, “and I have no mother.”

  Her expression crumples for a moment, but then she whips around to face me. Her hands tighten around the barrel and for a moment I think she might turn the gun on me; but then she lets out an anguished cry. My hands fall free and I glance back - even Red is backing away from her, his hands held in mock surrender. He’s frightened of her.

  “You have no idea what I’ve been through!” she yells, “all for you, all for him – I’ve risked my life a hundred times! I’ve seen more death than anyone should. I refused to help these men for years, thinking I needed to protect you both. It’s only once I saw you that I decided to act. You’ve been my sole motivation this whole trip. And you… you can’t even begin to understand. You could never imagine the torture they’ve put me through! So many years, so scared and so alone!”

  So that’s it. She’s lonely. She’s been lonely for far too long.

  “I know exactly how that feels.”

  I rip at my jacket and throw it aside, ignoring the chill that works its way up my spine. Instantly, the room is silent. Eyes cross my body, settling on the cross-hatch burn along my inner forearm. To make sure she sees, I hold it out. Mom staggers back, slapping one hand over her mouth.

  “Quinn…”

  “I got Branded,” I say simply, “about eight months ago. I’m a registered criminal back on Four, Mom. That’s why I sneaked aboard. Not because I didn’t have what it takes – but because I broke one too many rules and paid the price.”

  She reaches out gently, grazing her fingertips over my skin. Her anger seems to have vanished, too. For once, I feel immensely grateful for the scar. Even for the memories that come along with it. If Cherise’s face hadn’t appeared, I’d have never had the strength to run back in.

  “I had no idea,” Mom breathes, “that must have been agony.”

  “You could never imagine it.”

  “But doesn’t that prove that we’re right?” barks Red, “the Operators did that, didn’t they? They’ve always done awful things to us – the abuse on Four, the lies about Orithyia - that’s why we’re here. They need to be stopped. They need to feel a fraction of the pain they’ve inflicted on us.”

  Mom’s expression hardens somewhat.

  “He’s right. We’ll avenge the pain they’ve put you through.”

  “Don’t.”

  It’s strange. Before I left for the Neptune, I’d have given anything to watch someone beat the guys who killed Cherise. The woman with the otherwise-kindly face, the one who burned my skin away. I’d have loved to end her life myself. It would have been heaven to hear their screams. It might have been some small relief after the agony I’d suffered.

  Now? I think I’d fight to protect them.

  “When this happened,” I say, “I also lost a friend. In trying to help her, I made things so much worse. I was Branded and as I blacked out, I saw it happen. They killed her.”

  I tug gently at my loss knot, and understanding dawns on Mom’s face.

  “That…”

  “That’s why I’ve been getting involved,” I croak, “I couldn’t stand to watch Terri drown, or watch Luci get pulled into the vacuum, or watch you put a bullet in Isaac’s head – it’s just like Cherise. Pointless death.”

  “It’s not pointless. We’re the good guys.”

  “Are you?”

  My voice echoes in the emptiness. I clear my throat.

  “The mother I knew would never hurt a
soul. She sat at the Drop-off and talked about the stars. She sang for anyone who would listen. My Mom loved with everything she had. She’d never dream of taking a life, no matter what. Angelique may be a killer. It’s too late for her. But Angela of Four isn’t. Angela of Four is my mother.”

  I fix her gaze in mine, praying that my words will reach her.

  “So who are you?”

  There’s a gentle clatter as the gun hits the floor. Mom’s arms lock around me, tugging me into an embrace so warm that for a moment, I can barely breathe.

  She pulls away and wipes gracelessly at her face.

  “Okay, okay. I get it, already. I won’t hurt them.”

  The relief is so strong my knees almost buckle beneath me.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. After all these years, perhaps I’ve come a little unhinged. I don’t want to be, though. I want to be your mother. Not some crazed killer.”

  I fight to keep my expression neutral, but the smile is forcing its way through. I dare to look at Isaac. He sees me looking at him and his brows furrow for just a moment. My chest swells. I’ll explain everything soon enough.

  Mom cups my face in her hands.

  “We’ll find a different method. I’m sure there’s some other way.”

  “I think there is,” I blurt, “the passengers aren’t monsters. If they knew what was really happening, maybe they could use their influence to stop it.”

  “You think we can get them on our side?”

  I think of Sabina and Finn. They didn’t owe anyone a thing, but they were still kind. I can’t imagine either one of them letting someone die - not if they could do something to stop it. I nod.

  “The Companions will fight, too. For their own freedom. We just need to tell them the truth.”

  Doubt crosses her face.

  “They’ll never believe us.”

  “They’ll believe you. You could tell them the sky was falling and they’d listen. We just need to convince them that we can stop it – then we can win the ship fairly. Nobody needs to get hurt if we do it this way.”

  I’m not sure where this plan is coming from. It’s just pouring out of me, forming faster than I can speak.

  “We can use the intercom to gather everyone together. Defend the room with your friends. Tell everyone what’s really happening. I’m sure they’d all rally. They’d do anything you asked them to. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  I shoot a hopeful look at Isaac and Luci.

  “I think these guys might even be willing to help, too. If we make this up to them.”

  Luci still seems too shaken to respond, but Isaac gives a small nod. I return it breathlessly. There’s still some trust between us. I just have to grasp it.

  Red snarls behind me.

  “Boss, can we trust this? It sounds like a trap.”

  Mom’s face hardens.

  “I trust my daughter, Red.”

  The man watches us for a long moment, his finger toying with the trigger of his gun. He clearly doesn’t trust me. He glances at the figures lining the room, frustration and confusion filling his face.

  “But… we had a plan.”

  “Plans change,” she says simply, “the new plan is to save the Companions without any further bloodshed.”

  “This is nonsense! What if they don’t believe you? What if they surround us? We’re outnumbered and outgunned, Angela. If they catch us, we’re dead. All of us, including your precious kid.”

  “This way,” I say, “we might be able to avoid any more wasted lives. Considering how many people have died pointlessly from your previous plans, it seems like you need some new perspective. You’ve already failed!”

  He lifts the gun suddenly, aiming it around the room. Nobody moves. Those around the room eye the situation curiously, like they’re unsure how to react. Not everyone agrees with our plan, I can tell. But nobody’s sure who’ll win out.

  “This was supposed to work!” he cries, “my wife, Angela! They killed my wife! Tossed her off the edge of Four like she was nothing! Am I supposed to just talk to these people nicely and pretend they didn’t play a part in all that? Are they really going to face no consequences?!”

  Mom simply steps forward and places a hand on the end of the barrel.

  “Lower the gun, Red. You’re angry. I understand that. I’m angry, too. But we’re not doing this. We’re not sinking to their level and slaughtering those who don’t deserve it. Let’s be better than that brutish Captain and do things our way. Let’s go home, instead.”

  He doesn’t reply; just lets out a guttural scream and pulls back, aiming the gun at her face. My heart thumps in my chest. Is he going to shoot? Mom seems oddly calm – does she know something we don’t?

  “Wait,” I start, “don’t…”

  Suddenly, the door to the Bridge bursts open. Smoke fills the room, and for what seems like an eternity, all I hear are gunshots.

  Twenty-Three

  As the smoke clears, I force myself up onto my elbows. Amazingly I’m unharmed, aside from a small ache in my cheek. I choke a little on the chemical stench in the air, and try to rub the smoke from my eyes. I daren’t sit up without knowing what’s happened, so I stay low and listen hard. There’s a gentle hissing noise filling the room. A moment later, I recognise a small can resting on the floor just beside me. It’s something I’ve seen perhaps twice before, during the rare scenes of resistance on Four. Smoke bombs.

  My chest tightens. The Captain got to us.

  “Are you okay?”

  Isaac’s voice, barely more than a whisper. I can hear him grunt as he climbs to his knees.

  “Yeah,” Luci replies, “I think so. W-what happened?”

  “Dad came for us.”

  I finally sit up, and they both pause.

  “Quinn!”

  “Are you hurt?”

  I don’t reply. I can’t bring myself to form words. Because as the remaining smoke fades into a light sheen, I can see exactly what chaos has been brought upon the rebels.

  The edges of the room, where rebels had previously lined the walls, are drenched in blood. It’s spattered against the glossy surface, sometimes outlining a silhouette – the shape of a person, or what used to be a person. In the gaps between the desks, I see shadowed figures crumpled on the floor. For a long moment I hold my breath, watching each one in turn. Waiting for any signs of life.

  Nothing. My chest aches.

  Behind me, Luci gasps.

  “Oh, my god…”

  I turn, and suddenly my heart is in my throat.

  Lying in the centre of the room, their limbs somehow entangled, are Red and Mom. Crimson liquid forms a vast puddle beneath them, and as it spreads toward me I stumble aside, slipping in the stuff.

  Red faces the ceiling, both eyes open and blank. There’s a sizeable crater in his forehead, and the armour he wore beneath his crew uniform is thoroughly shredded. One hand still rests on his gun; but it’s limp and lifeless, the finger loosely threaded around the trigger.

  But I don’t care about him. Because Mom’s not moving, either.

  Breathlessly, I lean forward and drag Red’s heavy form aside. Did he shoot her? Was she caught in the same barrage of bullets that seems to have taken everyone else out?

  I roll her onto her back, gasping from the immense effort. She’s so heavy. Like there’s no resistance in her body. I push back her curtain of golden hair and grasp at her face, searching for a sign of life. Something. Anything.

  Nothing.

  Those lovely sea-blue eyes are half-closed to the world, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was daydreaming. There’s a strange haze forming over them, an uncharacteristic greyness, like the ocean in her eyes is now in storm. Ivory skin gives way to a terrifying paleness. Previously warm hands are now icy under my touch. I press my ear to her chest and close my eyes.

  Still nothing. Why is there nothing?!

  My movements become more panicked as I search her body for wounds. Di
mly, I become aware of Isaac and Luci talking. At first their voices are sad, filled with sympathy for a loss I can’t acknowledge. But then I hear footsteps approach, and a familiar voice barking orders. I don’t take in the words; but I get the idea.

  Just one rebel survivor. Arrest her.

  My friend’s voices grow louder at that. Move, they warn me. Run while you can.

  I can’t. My body is frozen, one hand still on my mother’s arm, the other putting pressure on the wound on her chest. I don’t know why I’m doing it; there’s no way a human could survive this. But I have to try.

  Hands find me, pull me away – and suddenly, all the fight fades from my body. I allow them to drag me to my feet, to lock the cuffs around my wrists. Hands twist my arm, grazing the scar there. More muttering. Someone pinches my chin, growls something threatening, spits in my face.

  I don’t look. I’m too busy watching her. Hopelessly wishing that she’d suddenly take a breath, that the storm will end and her eyes will burst into life again.

  Even as they march me away, I’m wishing.

  I ache.

  Tonight’s events have taken a toll on my body. There’s a painful throbbing in the small of my back, and soreness around my wrists where the cuffs were. My hands are still covered in her blood.

  Still, I don’t move. The cell contains all I need to tidy up; a small sink, a bed, a change of clothes. Something tells me they expect me to pull on the grey prison jumpsuit, then settle down for a long nap while they decide what to do with me. I steadfastly refuse to play their game. I won’t play the good little prisoner.

  I slump in the corner of the room, my back against the cold, metallic wall. The position does little to help the ever-growing number of aches in my body, but I don’t have the strength to move. There doesn’t seem to be much point. It wouldn’t change anything.