by Jay Allan
“Instigator.”
Zephyr rolled her eyes. “I’ll meet you in three.”
Era fitted her eyepiece against the bridge of her nose and slipped the earbud into place. She continued to the storage cubic and swiped her card along the scanner. Ten months here and Mali had already given her access to storage. No one else on this shift had clearance. Maybe that was another reason the other workers didn’t talk to her.
The door slid open, and the lume bar above brightened in response. As she reached for the bin of handhelds, her gaze fell to the small, silver archive cases on the shelf below. Had Mali loaded one with a cube order for the president today?
The president and board had access to all of humanity’s collective knowledge…there could be anything on those cubes.
She pulled her eyes away from the case. Mali trusted her. She wouldn’t mess it up by giving in to her curiosity. But had Mali ever peeked at the data on the archival cubes?
Definitely not. Accessing them without permission would be treason.
Era pulled down the handhelds and grunted under the bin’s weight. It’d take four shifts to fix this tech, and by then, there’d be a new bin to start on. Zephyr wasn’t wrong about their workload, just stupid to get on Mali’s bad side.
Era exited storage and stopped at the sight of the guard at the archivist station.
Tadeo Raines, son of the captain of the Meso, spoke with Mali. The Meso grew most of the fleet’s food, and that made it the second most important ship in the fleet—after the Paragon. Which made Tadeo the second most important future-captain.
He, like Zephyr and other senior command level kids, was spending a mandated term aboard the flagship. He served in the guard, directly under the president, but rarely showed up for drops. When he did, he always came with the head guard, Chief Petroff. Never alone.
Zephyr had a bit of a misguided, if understandable, obsession with Tadeo. His natural bronze skin had the kind of glow Era could only hope to get after hours spent under the super helio. He acted like a beacon—the women staring at him from the waiting area proved that. Or maybe they were just wondering if all the rumors about Tadeo were true.
He glanced up, shoving a lock of too-long black hair out of his eyes, and met her gaze. Warmth crept into Era’s cheeks, and she walked to cubic three. No way was she telling Zephyr he was here.
Zephyr sat at the table, head in her arms, eyes closed.
“You better pay attention today.” Era slid into a chair. “Mali’s gonna figure out your skills are worse than basic soon. Don’t want to end up plating quin in the galley.”
Zephyr groaned and straightened, a scowl on her face. “I can code. I can fix my own handheld. Usually.”
“Yeah, you’re talking to me right now. Getting a holo to display ‘Hello World’ doesn’t count. Sorry.”
“Everyone likes a good welcome message when they activate a handheld. You don’t appreciate my skills. And anyway, I’m not the one training for Head Archivist.”
Era coughed and adjusted her eyepiece. Mali was approaching the age where she’d choose her successor, but she hadn’t said, for sure, that Era was her pick.
Era chose a handheld from the bin and set it down on the table. “Fine. Show me how you fix this.”
Zephyr sighed and put her eyepiece on.
Era tapped the handheld to turn it on and twisted her wrist to activate her eyepiece. A three-dimensional infinity symbol twisted in the air in front of them and froze. Zephyr gasped, and her hand flew to her chest.
“What?” Era said.
“I think it’s a sign.”
“Huh? A sign for what?”
Zephyr slowly lowered her hand to the table and leaned forward. “A sign we’re stuck in an infinite loop of pointless drudgery.”
Era flared her nostrils, but Zephyr had switched her focus back to the infinity symbol, mock concentration on her face.
Era sighed and gave into the guilt gnawing at her. “Tadeo’s out there.”
Zephyr sat up straight and deactivated her eyepiece. “And I think I suddenly have a question for Mali.”
Era deactivated her own eyepiece and crossed her arms over her chest. “You need to forget about him.”
“I didn’t judge you when you picked Dritan.”
Yes you did. Zephyr’s exact words had been “A maintenance sublevel worker? I don’t think so. We’ll find you someone with a longer life expectancy.” Era had ignored the unwelcome advice, but it was the kind best friends give. A real friend tells you the truth, even when you don’t want to hear it.
She paused, but there was no nice way to say it. “We’re like bugs to him, glitches in his shift. He’s answered all your attempts at conversation with one word replies.”
“Maybe you’re a glitch, but I’m—”
“He’s twenty and still a half.”
“So what?” Zephyr pushed down the sleeve of her suit, revealing the tattoo on her wrist—one half of the infinity symbol. “I’m still a half.”
“You’re only sixteen. And you’re missing my point. He’s twenty and still unpaired.”
“I know, right? Leaving that kind of genetic potential unpaired should be illegal.”
Era sighed. “But…there’s something off about him. And all the things they say about him—”
“Oooh. All the things.” Zephyr opened her mouth and wiggled her fingers in the air. “Where should I start? The one about how some tech died of a broken heart because he wouldn’t pair with her? Or maybe the one about how he seduced a sublevel worker, met with her in secret, and then she disappeared. Of course, her body was never recovered—”
Era held her hands up and laughed. “Okay. Stop.”
“No. People always talk kak about command level kids. It’s nothing new. Who knows what they say about me…” Zephyr squinted at Era.
“Don’t look at me. No one’s stupid enough to say anything about you to me. But that’s irrelevant. Tadeo—have you ever even seen him around with anygirls?”
Zephyr tilted her head and shrugged. “Maybe he just hasn’t found the right girl.”
“And you’re the right girl.”
“Could be.”
“Are we sure he’s looking for a girl?”
Zephyr’s eyes widened. “Yes. We are.”
“Okay…”
“Even if he’s not, he’s still gotta pair with one.”
Era shook her head. Population Management allowed pairing with a member of the opposite sex at age sixteen and mandated it by age twenty-one. But that didn’t mean everyone preferred the opposite sex. She and Zephyr had been friends with a girl like that back on the London. She’d changed a lot after being forced to pair.
“Even if he did want to pair with you,” Era said, “I know he’s not gonna give up his claim to the Meso to come live on the London with you.”
“Who says I’m ready to pair? I have my implant now, and he’s free.” Zephyr raised her eyebrows and gave Era a crooked smile. “Not my fault it’s perfect timing.”
She flipped her long hair over her shoulder, a gleam in her eye. No stopping her when she got that look. She jumped to her feet and hit the button to open the door.
“Zeph—” Shouldn’t have told her.
The door slid open, revealing Mali on the other side. She had an archive case in one hand and her shift card in the other, poised over the scanner. She blinked at them.
“Era, I need you. I’m doing an urgent records pull for the president. They had a tech in here first shift to update the stationary, and now it’s freezing up. Can you take a look?”
Mali’s eyes flicked back and forth between them, brows furrowed. “You stay here, Zephyr.”
Mali turned to go, and Zephyr pressed her hands together, pleading.
“Can I show her the fix?” Era asked. “She doesn’t have a lot of training on the stationaries.”
“Fine,” Mali said. “Just get it working.”
Era tried to concentrate on the task before he
r and not the nervous tension emanating from Zephyr as they approached the archivist station.
“I was pulling up records, and the holo blanked. I need to grab this cube order,” Mali said, frustration and something else edging her voice. She hurried toward the archives.
Era’s throat tightened. What kind of records pull was this? And why the urgency?
Zephyr cleared her throat. Tadeo shifted his stance and focused on the far wall behind Era. Awkward. He acted like they were invading his personal space whenever he came in here. Definitely something off about him.
Era turned on her eyepiece. The holo had frozen, and a fuzzy white square appeared where the interface should be. A display module issue. The stationary had more power than the handhelds, but they both ran on the same kind of framework. Should be easy to debug.
Era pressed two fingers together to access the stationary’s display module.
She made a series of gestures, and the blank holo flickered, but nothing changed. The underlying program was still running, then. Why wouldn’t the software connect with the display?
Era pulled a handheld diagnostic from under the station and hooked it to the stationary. The bridge interface appeared and displayed the intermediate code.
The program was running an infinite loop.
Era smirked and looked over at Zephyr, but she was busy sneaking glances at Tadeo.
The glitch must have been introduced the last time they updated the system. Era peered at it. There. A truncated decimal. How was it that the techs on theParagon always made such simple mistakes?
Either way, it was an easy fix—just a one-line rewrite. She swiped the line of code away, deleting it, and opened the command cloud. She dragged the new commands into the program.
Zephyr cleared her throat. “So, Tadeo. Heard you had some excitement up on level six?”
He nodded but didn’t look at her.
Zephyr leaned on the station and narrowed her eyes. “You think the Paragon Guard’s competent enough to figure out what really happened? ‘Cause I know for sure it had nothing to do with the panels from my father’s ship.”
Era cringed. Tadeo’s face darkened, and he looked at Zephyr. Maybe that was her intention. Sometimes her social filter was as dysfunctional as this tech.
“That’s not something I can talk about,” Tadeo said, clipping each word short. “Can I get my shift card back now?”
“Yeah,” Era said, searching for the card. Mali must have forgotten to return it.
Zephyr got to it first. “They upped your clearance level, huh?” She handed the card to Tadeo and held on to it just a second too long, forcing his hand to brush her own. Tadeo met Zephyr’s gaze and held it. His hard expression softened for just a moment, replaced by…something else. Something vulnerable. Alonging.
Era focused on the stationary and rebooted her eyepiece. Had he looked at her like that before? No. No way she could’ve missed that.
“I guess they did,” Tadeo said, his voice husky.
Zephyr lifted her chin and rubbed her arm. “They’re supposed to open up helio sector tomorrow during midbreak. You going?”
What? Zephyr hated the super helio. She said it made her look like Soren incarnated.
Tadeo blinked and hesitated for one long, awkward moment. “Probably.”
Oh, no.
“Me, too,” Zephyr said. “Maybe we could meet up.”
Tadeo glanced toward the glass barrier, his jaw working.
He was going to turn her down. But it’d be for the best. She’d have to move on then, wouldn’t she?
Tadeo gave Zephyr a small smile, and a dimple appeared on one cheek. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s meet up.”
Zephyr’s mouth dropped into a little ‘o’ of surprise, and she darted a look at Era.
Era slammed her mouth shut. Well, I got that wrong.
“Great.” Zephyr recovered, and she smiled, her face lighting up like a fully charged helio. “I’ll see you there.”
Era reactivated her eyepiece, and the interface loaded this time. Mali was still logged into the system. Her records search ended, and a new file appeared on the interface.
Paragon Sublevel Maintenance Crews: Month 6, Days 08-15: Hull Duty Work Order #284: Level Six: Sector 191.32
Era swallowed hard. Maintenance crew personnel records. This was a work order from months ago, near the time they’d done the hull scans. They were definitely investigating the hull breach. What else could it be?
On the London, personnel files were kept for a few months and then purged. Hardly anyone ever reviewed them. And when they did, it was never a good thing.
She should take the eyepiece off. She didn’t have the clearance to see this.
After the riots, guards had come to the London. Era had been there when her father’s replacement had accessed the ship’s personnel files. They’d combed through them to find the colonists who’d coordinated the fleet-wide uprising. The traitors had been places on the ship they never should have been, and they’d sent and received comms from others who’d been found guilty.
It had been enough to condemn them. Seven colonists from the London were airlocked the following day.
The new file blinked at Era, and she swallowed. Something tugged at her chest, the same sense of wrongness that had tried to get her attention earlier, back in the cubic. If Dritan’s crew had never had hull duty, hadn’t been trained to fix the hull, why would they have been called during a hull breach? To help with the evacuation? There were plenty of guards on level six to handle that…
Mali hadn’t left the archives yet, but she’d be done soon.
Era made her decision and tapped the file with one shaking hand. She flicked through the list as fast as she could.
Names. Pictures. Every location each worker had used a shift card during the time period. Dread grew in her gut as she moved through them. She recognized these faces. She’d never spoken to most of them, but she’d seen them all before.
One was a young woman with blue eyes and white-blond hair. Janet Lanar. Era had seen her more than a few times up on observation with her little girl. Janet had been one of the few people on this ship who’d acted welcoming to Era and Zephyr.
Era rushed through the next few, heart pounding.
His familiar face shimmered into existence before her. He looked so handsome, so confident in his green sublevel suit.
Dritan Corinth.
CHAPTER FOUR
Era’s first instinct was to delete Dritan’s record, but she stopped herself, her mind racing. Would they blame Dritan and his crew for the breach? Her eyes flicked back and forth between his image and the glass archive doors. Mali walked through them, making the decision for her. There was no time to do anything.
Era’s hand shook as she accessed the memory core and deleted her eyepiece signature from the file.
“Did you fix it?” Mali asked, coming around the station, archive case in hand.
Done.
Era exhaled and stepped away from the machine. “Yeah. It works now.”
“Good job. Thank you.” Mali checked her work and patted Era on the arm. She set the case on the station and opened it.
A row of small silver cubes rested on the spongy inner material. She retrieved the cube with the maintenance crew records from the stationary, added it to the case, and closed it.
Era turned and hurried back to cubic three, her eyes burning. She should have deleted Dritan’s records from the cube. But if she had—and they’d discovered it—they’d think she and Dritan were trying to hide something.
Why had Dritan lied to her? In the entire time they’d lived on the Paragon, he’d never once mentioned having hull duty. How could he not tell her he’d worked the sector where the breach happened?
Era entered the cubic, sat down at the table, and put her hands over her eyes.
Zephyr walked in after her. “I’m gonna get the best helio burn ever tomorrow. Told you Tadeo just needed the right girl.”
Era dragged h
er hands down her face. She’d just committed a serious crime—and for what? She pressed her lips together and picked up the handheld she and Zephyr had been working on. “We need to finish these.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Tadeo. I don’t know why you—”
“I’m not—come on.” Era’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “Let’s get this done.”
Zephyr frowned but sat down and picked up her eyepiece.
Era activated the handheld, and they stared at the frozen infinity symbol hovering in the air.
“I remember this from the last time you showed me,” Zephyr said softly as she gestured and brought up the code.
Era’s eyes filled as Zephyr worked. When the riot leaders were airlocked, Zephyr said the president and board were just trying to pin the uprising on someone, make an example of them. Era had brushed off Zephyr’s theory.
Those rioters had been guilty. The president and board had no choice but to airlock them for the safety of the fleet.
This thing with Dritan, the personnel records—it wasn’t like that. The president was just doing an investigation into the hull breach. But still. Why had Dritan hidden the truth?
Zephyr re-booted the handheld, and the infinity symbol rotated in the air and faded into the mantra of the fleet.
A Better World Awaits.
But will we ever get there?
∞
Era stepped into the loud din of the galley and followed Zephyr to the mess line. The scent of hot quin grain turned her stomach. She’d thrown it up more times than she could count in the early weeks of her pregnancy. It might never smell good to her again.
She scanned the end of the galley, where the sublevel workers sat. Dritan leaned over a table, hands on the shoulders of two of his crewmates. He broke into a wide grin at something one of them said, and Era’s heart grew heavy. Why had he kept the truth from her?
The line moved, and Era took her metal plate and water cup from the galley worker.
“Reduced rations. Again,” Zephyr said, through gritted teeth.
Era looked down at the small pile of sticky brown quin grain on her plate. A few anemic greens poked out from it. Her stomach flipped.
This was how it had all started a year ago. The riots. The Meso had lost some of its crop to the rot, and the shortage seemed to break something in the fleet. Was it happening again?