Cagebird

by Karin Lowachee

  I didn’t want that to hurt, but it did. A lot. “He hasn’t asked about me?”

  Marcus looked at me for a moment, then leaned on his hand, closer to me. His voice lowered, as if someone could be listening. “Yuri, this ship can be a great opportunity for you. I’ve decided to train you myself.”

  I blinked. Watched him, but he stared so completely that I couldn’t hold it. He wasn’t dismissing me like the teachers did. And he didn’t look tired like Papa. His eyes were wide like cam-orbs.

  “Training in what?” I asked, rubbing my boot again.

  “Well, to begin with, weapons.”

  I doubted that. “Really?”

  He set aside his cloth on the deck and pulled on his boot. “Everyone learns weapons on my ship. Kids included.” Then the other boot, which he’d finished with earlier. “Come on, you must be hungry. I’ll show you the ship, then we can go eat.”

  Without Bo-Sheng. Because Bo-Sheng had already eaten probably, and didn’t seem to care where I was. So why should I care where he was?

  I pulled on my boots and climbed off the bunk. “Got a cigret?”

  That made Marcus smirk. But he dug out a pack from his breast pocket and tossed it to me. The expensive brand. “Keep it. But I don’t want you to overdo it.”

  I slid out a stick and sparked the end with the old fingerband I always wore, and grinned up at him. “Why not?”

  He laughed. “Yuri, the first thing you better get straight is when I tell you to do something, you don’t question me. Not yet, anyway, when you don’t know a thing about anything.”

  That stopped my smile. Above the laugh, his eyes didn’t move. So I nodded. And blew the smoke out toward the deck.

  He put his arm around my shoulders and walked me out of the quarters. “Good. You know, I’m fair. And my ship is good. But that’s because my people do what I tell them. I’m not exactly your father, and this isn’t quite like school, but I am going to take care of you. You’ll do well here, I know it. I think you’ll do extremely well.”

  “Really?” Nobody had ever said such a thing to me. “Why?”

  “I told you why. But you won’t believe me until you start looking at yourself apart from that boy.”

  Bo-Sheng.

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Only?” Marcus said, and I had no idea what he meant. Then he dropped it. “We do need to get you new clothes, those are practically in rags. But don’t worry, I won’t make you cut your hair. I think I like it long.”

  “Bo-Sheng says it makes me look like a girl, but I don’t care.” Even though I did.

  “Bo-Sheng’s jealous,” Marcus said, which sounded stupid until I thought about it. And then it didn’t seem so unlikely. “And looking like a girl can have its advantages.”

  I made a face.

  “You don’t think so? Those nurses gave you sweets, didn’t they? Because they thought you were pretty?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  He laughed. I didn’t see what was so funny, but as we walked he ruffled my hair, then settled his arm back around my shoulders. I didn’t dare hit him like I would have Estienne.

  Here and there people passed us in the corridors. His crew seemed to respect him a lot. Men and women, shadowed beneath the dim lights, appeared angry and mean with their tattooed skin and graffitied clothes, but then the shadows passed and I saw how their eyes acknowledged Marcus with quiet acceptance. Some even talked to him, briefly, with “sir” and “Captain,” and when they saw me they nodded as well, as if I were a grown-up. One man stopped with us at a lev. He was stocky and hawk-nosed, and Marcus introduced him as Caligtiera. Cal, he said.

  “Sir,” I said, because everyone else used the word.

  Cal squinted down at me, sniffed. “Yuri, eh?” His gaze slid to Marcus, and the corner of his mouth quirked. That was all. He didn’t end up getting in the lev with us. Marcus led me in and when I turned around Cal remained outside, staring in at me. I folded my arms against my body and the doors slid shut.

  “He’s just curious,” Marcus said. “And he doesn’t talk much.”

  “Why’s he curious about me?”

  Marcus looked down at me as the lev grated and roared on its ascent. “Because one day you might take his job.” He grinned.

  I laughed. “Yeah, right!”

  “You never know,” Marcus said. “I told you that you’re smart.”

  Even though he was joking, it still made me smile to think about.

  He called it a “mess hall,” not a cafeteria, and I wasn’t sure why since there was nothing messy about it. Shadowed like the rest of the ship, noisy and full of the drifting scents of different hot foods, it was otherwise bare of any overall grit. Maybe because people ate here. It would have to be clean. The spine-wrought walls, a continued design from the corridors, formed odd reflections of light on their twisted dark steel.

  Marcus sat with me while I scarfed down the free hamburger and fries and fizzy caff. All around us some of the crew milled, eating and talking. The noise climbed high, harsh voices and laughter and the occasional angry word, but it was so alive and generally everyone seemed to like being together. The people pulsed with energy. They didn’t drag around like the bodies in the Camp, wistful for better things. Some of them looked over at us, curious, silent, maybe even in a strange kind of recognition as if they knew who I was already, but nobody approached. Marcus brought me dessert too—chocolate ice cream.

  He said, “Estienne will take you to get your new clothes, you have a good shift of sleep, and tomorrow we begin.”

  Maybe he saw how nervous I felt despite the ice cream treat.

  “It’ll be fine, Yuri,” he said. “And I haven’t forgotten. We’ll find your mother and brother.”

  I didn’t want to hope, but maybe I could. I wasn’t in the Camp anymore. Things were different in space. And when his hand stroked my arm it felt like he really cared.

  Estienne took me to Supply for the clothes and toiletries. Warm sweaters in dark blue, black, red. Light blue that Estienne said matched my eyes. T-shirts. Underclothes. Pants of strong, faded manufiber and denim in just as many colors. The man distributing them peered down at me with a secret smile. He was bald, and his head was tattooed and studded with dots of silver. I stared until Estienne put his hand on my shoulder and turned me away.

  “He’s like that with all the new recruits,” Estienne explained, though I wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

  Back in quarters he helped me fold and stack the clothes in my locker and sling the little bag of toiletries in the webbing beside my bunk. Isobel’s robot sat up beside my pillow. If I had been allowed to paste up pictures, it might’ve started to look like my room on the Camp.

  “Go brush your teeth,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.

  I was glad he stayed, and heard him singing something to himself as I fumbled around in the narrow, stainless-steel bathroom. It was built for an adult, and even though I wasn’t short for my age, I had to stretch to adjust the mirror above the sink so it tilted down.

  When I came out he’d laid out my sleepwear and was sitting on the end of the bunk, his back to the bulkhead and his knees bent so his arms rested against them. He was looking at a black-handled switchblade, turning it around in his fingers.

  “What’s that?” What do you use it for? Since he wasn’t looking at me it was easier to just change into my pajamas right then. When I was done he glanced over.

  “My little friend,” he said. “Wanna see?”

  I smiled and nodded, held out my hand, and he closed the blade and placed it in my palm. It was worn, but when I flipped it open again, the long sheen of metal shone like brand-new. I sat on the bunk and closed my fist around the hilt. It was small enough I could easily fold my fingers. Estienne scooted closer and arranged my grip, then held my arm and moved it slowly like I was going to slice somebody. I giggled when he put his other arm around me and moved my left hand, as if it had a knife in it too. I watched the movements I ma
de, even though I wasn’t controlling them. It was like a language.

  “Does it work? Could I kill something this way?”

  “Oh yeah,” Estienne said. “But only if you were faster.” He slipped his hand down my forearm and took the blade back, then his wrist flicked so fast I didn’t see it.

  The knife embedded in the slats of the tower locker.

  I looked at him, eyes wide, and he grinned. “Go get it. And you can keep it.”

  “Really?” I scrambled off the bunk and went to the blade, tugged it out of the locker and turned to him.

  “Really,” he said, and slid off the blankets. “Now go to bed, we’ve got a long shift tomorrow.”

  I closed the blade and crawled into the bed, beneath the covers. After a second I slid it under my pillow.

  “I’m going to lock the hatch again,” Estienne said, crouching down beside me. “Okay? For your own safety.”

  I nodded. If that was the way this ship ran, then I had to learn it.

  “Do you want to keep the lights up a little?”

  I made a face. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

  He laughed. “All right then.” His hand went into my hair, but I leaned away. That made him laugh more. “Funny kid.”

  I watched as he stood and went to the hatch. Somehow I knew he was going to turn around, and he did, for a last look. His hair covered most of his eyes, almost white under the lights, framing his face like a glow.

  Then he left, and the hatch beeped, and I called off the lights.

  Pure darkness.

  I expected to feel Isobel’s warmth along my back, but there was nothing but the bulkhead. I tried not to think of her though; otherwise, I’d feel the loneliness just as cold as the cycled air. Eventually I slept, and the dreams stretched out ahead of me until I couldn’t see them anymore.

  I didn’t hear Estienne come in, I just felt a hand on my forehead. I blinked open my eyes, confronted soft light and the halo of his hair hanging down, a crown of brightness that cast his face in shadow. He said quietly, “Time to get up. We’ve leaped.”

  “We leaped?” I croaked out, pushing myself to sit.

  He nodded. “You slept right through it. That’s a good sign for you living here. And you say you didn’t grow up on a ship?”

  I shook my head. He helped me disentangle from the blankets, and I went to the bathroom to pee and wash up. When I came out he had some of my clothes in his hands. Black like what he wore.

  “Put these on.” He smiled.

  So I did that while he made up my bed. He held out the switchblade to me as I ran my hands over my hair to smooth it down. Once I had it in my pocket, looking up at him, none of this early shift felt so strange after all. I’d seen him the most since lifting off from the Camp, and he wasn’t demanding at all. Maybe Marcus had asked him to take care of me especially, like Marcus himself was going to train me especially?

  Me and not Bo-Sheng. I bit my tongue before I asked how Bo-Sheng was doing. I would probably see him today at some point.

  “I start with the guns now?” I asked Estienne as he took me out to the corridor, toward the mess hall for breakfast.

  “You might. The captain will tell you.” He slid his arm around my shoulders again like he did yesterday, steering me around the corners and out of the way of passing crew. They all looked like they had somewhere to go and barely glanced at us. I asked him about that, if something was going on, and he said, “We’ve mated with one of our sister ships, and some of the crew are going over there.”

  “Another ship?”

  He grinned. “Shiva. It’s a merchant. We have lots of friends there.”

  “How long are we going to be—mated?”

  He shrugged. “As long as the captain wants. Apparently they have some strits aboard.”

  I nearly stopped walking. I didn’t think he’d say it so casually. “How do they have strits?”

  “The way any Hub ship gets strits. They saw a ship where it wasn’t supposed to be and attacked it. And Shiva won.” He smiled. “Shiva’s as heavily armed as we are. You have to be now, every ship.”

  “What are they going to do with them?”

  “Hmmm, maybe take them to the nearest military port.”

  He didn’t sound too concerned. I said, “Maybe?”

  “Well, after we have a bit of fun. You know how many of our comrades died because of strit attacks?”

  Maybe he read my face.

  He said, softly, “I’m sorry, Yuri. I forgot. Marcus told me…your family, huh? The strits attacked your colony?”

  I nodded, then shrugged. “Long ago. When I was little.”

  Mishka’s bloody stump where her arm had been.

  I hadn’t thought of that in a long time. Now it was there in front of my face like a blinding light. But Estienne’s arm was around my shoulders, and I kept walking.

  By then we were at the mess hall. It was a lot quieter than the last shift. Only a quarter of it was occupied. Maybe the others were over on Shiva.

  I wondered what a strit looked like up close. I wondered if it would understand me if I yelled at it.

  Halfway through my breakfast of peanut butter toast and warm cereal, Marcus came in. He didn’t acknowledge anybody, just approached our table directly and put his hand on the back of my seat in greeting.

  “So how was your sleep, Yuri?”

  I swallowed my bite and looked up at him. “Good. Sir.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “The leap didn’t bother you?”

  “He slept right through,” Estienne said, with a glance of approval at me.

  Marcus seemed surprised. “Well then…are you just about finished with your meal? I thought maybe you’d like to come over to Shiva with me. Estienne told you we were mated?”

  “Yeah! He said they have strits there.” Maybe I’d see one. With Marcus there with me they couldn’t do anything. They must’ve been locked up somewhere. “Can Bo-Sheng come too? The strits killed his homeship, you know.”

  “Someone will take Bo-Sheng later, if we have time. But I’m going over there now, and Estienne has duties to see to. If you’re going to go, let’s get on.”

  I stood so suddenly Marcus had to step back or I would’ve plowed my seat into him. I tried a smile. “Sorry.”

  He only raised his eyebrows at me and helped me clamp my chair back to the deck. I turned and waved a little at Estienne. “See you later.”

  Estienne nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Excited,” Marcus commented as he took me out.

  “It’s an alien.” People heard about them, and I remembered vaguely seeing pictures on the Send, but to see one live would be so much different. I’d smell them. They must’ve had a scent. They must’ve had a reason for attacking ships and colonies. What I really wanted to do was kick them hard for making me lose my mama and Jascha. Why was their war so important that it killed people and lost others?

  “Are you interested in seeing them just because they’re alien?” Marcus said.

  “I hate them,” I said. “I want to see them because…” I imagined them scared of me. Begging not to be hurt, or blamed, or yelled at.

  “Because?” Marcus said.

  “Have you killed any? Like, by yourself?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said. “It’s what we do, humans. Kill aliens.”

  For a second I thought he might be joking, but when I looked up his face was serious.

  “It’s quite satisfying,” he continued.

  I chewed my lip. “Why do they keep attacking us? Why can’t the Hub do something to stop them?”

  Marcus was silent, walking along. He didn’t touch me like Estienne did but kept his pace short so I didn’t have to trot to keep up with him. After a moment, he said, “The Hub made a deal with them a long time ago. The Hub expects them to keep to this deal, to stay in their place. But obviously they don’t. And everybody in between strit space and the Spokes suffers for it. Like your family.”

  That was the en
d result. Camps full of people like Papa. “But why?”

  “Some people in the government are more concerned about keeping things as they are instead of trying to make them better. I know it doesn’t make any sense to you…it hardly does to me…but that’s the way it is. Frustrating. Which is why most of the time we don’t bother handing over the strits we capture. The Hub might just end up letting them go, and how does that help? It’s just easier and more fair to vent them.”

  His voice was soft. He didn’t brag about it.

  I would’ve. To Bo-Sheng. And I’d write comms to Papa and tell him.

  “Do you truly want to meet them?” Marcus asked, looking down at me as we paused outside the airlock.

  “You’ll be there, right?”

  He nodded once. He wasn’t going to make up my mind for me, and that made me stand a little taller.

  I said, “Then yeah.”

  Shiva was white. It didn’t look a thing like The Abyssinian. Its walls were white, its lights covered by smooth panels. Dots ran along the deck, iridescent paint. Red, green, blue, and yellow that Marcus said led to different places on the ship. So you wouldn’t get lost even if all the lights went out. The crew seemed neater, somehow, not as ragged on the edges of their clothing. Not studded or so tattooed. And there were far more kids weaving past us, holding slates or following behind adults. We glanced at each other, but they didn’t speak.

  Everyone walked wide of Marcus. And me, because I trailed alongside him. Even the adults. But they didn’t have any reason to respect me. They didn’t quite look Marcus in the face. He didn’t say a thing to any of them, but we didn’t get far down the corridor before a dark-haired woman approached, a little hurried, smiling.

  “Captain,” she said. “Sorry I didn’t meet you at the lock.”

  Behind her stood a sullen boy with a shaved head. No more than light brown stubble crowned his skull, and his gaze was flat. He might’ve been my age. He had his hands behind him and didn’t look at me, even though I tried to catch his eyes to say hi. They were rimmed red, his skin was ashen as if he had a fever. I wondered why he was out of bed.