by Lisa Jade
It’s been about six hours since I was thrown in here and told to wait. It’s not entirely clear what’s happening outside – but every so often I hear heavy footsteps pounding by, as though someone’s ferrying messages across the ship. During the first hour, I could hear snippets of conversation through the door. They’d rooted out any remaining rebels and planted bullets in their heads. Sounds like I’m the only suspect they have left.
Idly, I wonder what they’re going to do to me. No doubt they think I’m part of this, thanks to the burn on my arm and my presence on the Bridge. Maybe they were watching during the confrontation, waiting to see how things panned out. Either way, they have reason to believe I was behind these attacks. Would a simply bullet to the skull be too much to hope for, I wonder? Maybe they’ll interrogate me first, to find out what I know. Maybe they’ll torture me.
I sigh. I suppose this is for the best. If anyone had to survive, I was the best option. Since I wasn’t actually behind the attacks, I don’t know much. They can torture me if they want to, and they won’t find out a thing.
I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them again the motion feels almost impossible. I’m exhausted. But if I sleep now, I might not wake up. And even if I do, it doesn’t matter.
I figured out what had happened within minutes of being arrested. The small ache in my cheek is from Mom. She must have realised what was happening a split second before the rest of us, and took the chance to throw me out of the stream of bullets. She could have used that moment to protect herself or warn the others; but she didn’t.
Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away. No. I won’t cry – not when I don’t even know how I feel. Sad? Angry? Tired? Perhaps a bit of everything. I feel empty. It’s like waking up at home after my Branding; everything feels wrong and distorted, and there’s a peculiar numbness building in my head. Like I’ll never feel anything again.
I hang my head. Be positive. You’re still alive. So are your friends. That’s good, right?
It is. But it doesn’t make me happy. It should never have come to this.
I cast my mind back to my first day with Luci. She’d shot me a warning look and told me not to reveal myself. How the two of them would be punished if they were caught harbouring me. I wonder what the Captain will do to them. What he may have already done to them. Maybe they’re not so safe, after all.
Everything is such a mess.
Footsteps pass by again.
“What’s going on?” says a bored voice.
“Got a guest. For the prisoner.”
“Captain said nobody goes in until he makes a decision.”
A laugh.
“Decision? Come on. She’s getting a bullet in her skull, and we all know it. If she’s lucky, that is. Little psychopath might get thrown out into space if she doesn’t play nice.”
“Even so…”
“Look, the brat’s dead either way, so what does it matter? Besides, I don’t want to be the one who says no to Ahime.”
A pause.
“Wait, what? Ahime’s the guest?”
“Yeah. She’s down the hall, demanding to come in. Won’t take no for an answer.”
The crew member makes a small noise of disbelief.
“I don’t understand. Why would she want to see the prisoner?”
“It makes sense. Turns out that her Companion, Angelique, is the one that orchestrated all the attacks since day one.”
“I know that. But it doesn’t explain…”
“There’s more. Angelique had a kid. A daughter.”
“Wait - are you serious… her?”
“Yep. Prisoner is Angelique’s daughter. Estranged, apparently.”
“Clearly not.”
I heave a sigh. I can understand what they’re saying but for some reason, I just can’t bring myself to care.
“What do you reckon? Let her in?”
A heavy sigh.
“I guess we have no choice.”
A few minutes later, smaller, softer footsteps approach the door. A low voice speaks, but it’s so quiet that the heavy cell door muffles it.
“Are you sure, Ma’am? We can accompany you.”
More muffled speech.
“Well, if you insist. But be careful. She might be a kid, but she’s a registered criminal back on Pyre on top of her involvement in the attacks. We’ll be within shouting range, so if you need us, just say the word.”
The door creaks open, and some small part of me cries out. Take advantage of the momentary lack of security. Break past her and run – and never stop running. I want to do it. But my body doesn’t move. I’ve lost the fire I once had.
Someone steps into the room, and it takes all my effort to turn and face them.
Ahime stands in the centre of my cell, looking like the last person you’d expect to see in one. Her jet black hair is piled high on her brow and her makeup is as flawless as always. She wears a long, ice-blue gown that trails softly behind her, as well as her normal jumble of bangles. Under the fluorescent light, she appears a little more haggard than usual – though I can hardly blame her. In comparison, I must look like death.
I should probably greet her. Even in this situation, it seems like the right thing to do. I can feel some small, instinctive urge tugging at me, reminding me that I once admired this woman. I remember watching her still image on the broadcast back home. I’d felt a rush of something strange back then, like I’d give anything to speak with her, if only for a moment.
She looks down at me, and I don’t move. Who cares? She’s likely furious with me anyway. She must blame me for the loss of her Companion – which, I suppose, is fair.
Ahime steps closer and to my immense surprise, sinks to the floor across from me. She crosses her legs and leans forward, like she’s talking to a very small child.
“Quinn, isn’t it?”
I don’t reply.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to speak to me. Just listen.”
Listen. Of course. Maybe I should take that to heart; spend more time listening and less time jumping thoughtlessly into danger.
“I wanted to give you some updates,” she says, her voice soft, “about what’s going on aboard the Neptune. First and foremost, every last member of the rebels has been captured and executed. The Captain is under the impression that you were involved in this, though I’m not sure how true that is. I doubt he expects to obtain much information from you. The plan, as far as I can tell, is to kill you in the morning. Publicly, if he thinks he can swing it.”
I let out a small scoff and her eyebrows raise.
“Ah, I see. You don’t care. Well, I do. Especially considering that you’re not the only person at risk. I’ve spoken to your friends.”
My interest must show on my face, because her lips curl upward.
“Don’t look so panicked. They’re unharmed. The Captain took a gamble when he sent those gunners onto the Bridge. He had hoped the two of them would be on their knees and as such, the crew were instructed to only shoot from the waist up. I suppose you should be happy about that, since it’s the only way you survived. Anyway, your friends have been placed in solitary confinement for the remainder of the journey. They’ll still live luxuriously, of course; dolled up and dragged to every party the Captain instructs them to attend. Still waited on hand and foot until we reach Orithyia. The only difference is that they won’t go anywhere without a guard, and most of their time will be spent alone in their rooms, which are now sealed from the outside.”
Relief and anger swirl in my chest. On one hand, I’m pleased to hear they’re okay – but their lives will be hard from now on, and that’s something I won’t be able to make up to them.
“Anyway,” she says, leaning back, “as I understand, you attempted to revive my Angelique right until the end. I suppose I should thank you for that, even if it was for nothing. Superior genes can do amazing things, but nobody could have survived that many rounds to the chest.”
She eyes me cur
iously.
“I’m curious about you, you know… you’re not some innocent Companion. Or even a normal stowaway. You’re Quinn Hart. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?”
“Speaking now, are we?” she chuckles, “yes, I know all about you. I didn’t recognise you at first, of course. I’d never seen a photo. But my Angelique had told me plenty of stories about her daughter, so I figured it out pretty quickly.”
“And you weren’t suspicious of me?”
“Of course not. I knew exactly what my Angelique was up to, so I didn’t think it strange that you had shown up around the same time. Something had to have motivated her.”
“You knew?!”
“It was fairly obvious. The first time I met her, I had every intention of allowing my Angelique to go to the testing facility. I’d had a number of Companions before her, so it wasn’t exactly new. I’d been raised with the knowledge of how things really worked. I expected her to go calmly, like the others. But one night, about two days before our arrival on Orithyia, she got a little… tipsy.”
Her lips curl upward, as though she’s recalling a fond memory.
“She opened up to me like she never had before. Told me how she’d moved to be with a man considered lesser than her, and the resistance their union had faced. She talked about her daughter, too – a little girl who would face abuse her whole life thanks to the decisions she had made. She’d left Earth to escape the pressure, and regretted ever leaving. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her family. After that, I couldn’t let her go. I pulled every string at my disposal, begged on my knees at times. I managed to save her, sure, but I don’t think she ever truly wanted to stay with me.”
My chest hurts at the story, at the sorrow in her voice, but I force myself to look away. This would have been helpful to know earlier, but it’s no good to me now. Ahime pushes on.
“I figured out straight away that she was involved in the attacks. She began to act oddly. After I saw her strike you, I was certain. You were her precious daughter, and she was willing to do anything to save you. Even if it meant breaking her silence and risking her own life.”
She brushes at her face. I look up, stunned to see her flawless makeup streaming down her face. She sniffs deeply.
“You may not know this about me, but there’s an immense pressure for me to marry and have children. But I never will. No man could ever earn my heart – it’s belonged to my Angelique for fifteen years.”
“Y-you were in love with her?”
“Head over heels,” she says tearfully, “though she always rebuffed my affections. She could never stop loving your father. It broke my heart, but I accepted it. I loved her too much to lose her. She stayed in order to remain safe and alive, but given the choice, she’d never have wanted to be with me. Not really.”
Suddenly, she looks so much smaller. She doesn’t look haggard now; she looks heartbroken. This isn’t the face of some snob who’s lost a servant. It’s someone who’s lost the person they loved more than anything in the world.
“I’m sorry,” I hear myself say.
“Me, too. I can’t imagine how upset you must be. You just got her back.”
For a few minutes we just sit in silence, watching one another. Every so often I open my mouth, wanting to say something comforting or encouraging, but each time the words die in my throat. Eventually, I sigh.
“Why are you here, Ahime? It can’t be just to tell me about Angelique.”
“It’s not,” she says, “I came to ask you what you plan to do now.”
I pause. Why does everyone always ask that question?
“What I plan to do? I don’t exactly have any options. You told me yourself, the Captain’s going to kill me. That’s it. End of story.”
She shakes her head.
“I refuse to believe that.”
“Huh?”
“My Angelique died protecting you. I refuse to believe that was for nothing.”
“But…”
“If you die on board this ship,” she says, her voice hard, “then my Angelique was killed for nothing. And your friends who risked everything for you will be punished for no good reason. All the hard work done to save the Companions will be wasted.”
“Somebody else will…”
“There is nobody else, Quinn. You are the only one who can do this.”
I heave a sigh, ignoring the pounding in my skull.
“Look, Ahime. I get it. But what can I do while I’m sitting in a freaking cell at the bottom of the ship? Besides, I have no guns, no armour. No way to defend myself. On top of all that, I have no desire to kill anyone. Not even the Captain deserves that. I agree that something needs to be done. But I’m not the person to do it.”
“And that’s exactly why you must. You’re the only one who doesn’t feel any bloodlust.”
“But I’m stuck in here,” I remind her. She frowns.
“True. But wouldn’t it be unfortunate – terrible, really – if a guest ‘accidentally’ left the cell door open? The prisoner could escape, and they’d be none the wiser until morning. As long as the escapee remained under the radar, of course.”
I stare.
“A-are you saying you’ll let me out?”
“Only if you take this chance to do something amazing. You know I’ll be in immense trouble for doing this. I won’t be able to help you a second time. Nor will I be able to acknowledge you again. I won’t be involved in this a moment longer than I must be.”
She stands up and I follow suit, a strange sense of purpose filling my chest. She’s right. She’s right about everything.
“I understand.”
“Good. I’ll leave the door ajar. Wait a few minutes before slipping out. The guard station is to your left, so go to your right. There’s a passageway there that should take you toward the cabins. It’s about four in the morning in ship time, so it should be quiet.”
“Thank you.”
She hurries towards the door.
“Wait!” I say. She pauses.
“What is it? Time is of the essence.”
“I know. I just had a question.”
“Yes?”
I bite my lip.
“You don’t know me at all. Why trust me?”
Her lips curl upwards.
“Because you care. I know you can do this.”
She vanishes from my sight, and for a long moment I wonder where I’ve heard that tone of voice before. Ah, that’s it. Cherise. The same encouraging words. The assumption that I can do more than what the world expects. More than what I expect of myself.
Something burns in my chest, small at first, and builds until my stomach is alight.
Cherise wasn’t wrong about me. Neither is Ahime.
I can do this.
Twenty-Four
I arrive at Luci’s cabin with a heavy heart. I haven’t encountered anyone on the walk here, and I’ve not heard any alarms. They’ve not noticed my escape. I doubt they’d mistake me for anyone else right now. I glance down. The once-white dress Luci gave me is stained to hell, spattered with blood and ripped in various places. I washed my hands as well as I could, but there are still traces of crimson under my nails. My hair is in a matted mess around my face, and I can feel a multitude of small aches across my body.
Luci’s door has a bar across the front, keeping it locked. I stop in front of it, suddenly unsure. I don’t really know why I’m here. Do I want to approach them? What do I want from them? After everything that’s happened, they don’t owe me anything. I can – and probably should – leave them alone.
Moving as quietly as I can, I step up to the door and lightly press my ear to it. For a moment, nothing. Then, I hear muffled speech. I can’t quite make out the words, but I instantly recognise the voices. Of course; their rooms have a connecting door, so they won’t be fully alone. Someone heaves a sigh, and mutters something that sounds like ‘goodnight’. The other responds in kind, and my stomach tightens.<
br />
If I want to see them again, I have to do it now.
My mind races. Do I want to see them again? What should I say? How should I feel?
Footsteps on the other side, moving away. No time.
I rap loudly on the door and set to work unlocking the bar on the door. There’s a padlock on it, but it’s not exactly high-tech. It’s similar to the brittle ones the Operators often use on Four. I pull at it with all my strength, and it comes away in my hand. That was far too easy, but I don’t question it. Perhaps the adrenaline has made me stronger.
I push the bar up and step away. They heard it, I’m sure. The voices have fallen silent, and I can almost feel their eyes fixed on the door. Waiting for someone to step inside. Maybe I should; but I’m scared.
My heart is in my throat. How will they react when they see me? Anger? Will they scold me for taking so long? Thank me for coming back? Will they scream for the crew, and beg them to throw me back in my cell?
Determination builds in my chest. It doesn’t matter. I need to see them again.
Footsteps pad over to the door, and someone gently tries the handle. Murmuring. The knob twists. They know it’s unlocked. I step back, pressing my shoulders against the wall of the luxurious hallway, and wait for whatever reaction they’re going to have.
The door nudges open, and a moment later, two figures appear. They’re dishevelled and slightly scared-looking, but to my immense relief they seem uninjured. There are bags under Isaac’s eyes, and Luci’s face is red as though she’s been crying. Her lower lip is bitten to shreds; something she only does when stressed. Guilt courses through me. Look what I’ve done to them.
Then both sets of amber-brown eyes come to rest on me, and the door flies open, pounding hard against the wall behind it. Luci covers her mouth with both hands, her eyes filling with fresh tears.
“Quinn.”
Isaac simply stares, his jaw hanging open. Clearly, I was the last person he expected to see. I swallow hard.
“I… I know you probably don’t want to see me after everything that happened. I know you’re probably mad at me. Nothing I can do will make up for what you’ve been through. I just…”