[Asher]
The next two days pass in a haze of waiting. Waiting for Davyd to take me to the Control Room. Waiting for Huckle to say something about the listening device. Waiting for Lady’s next mad idea.
For a whole morning I paint a strip of green along the bottom of the wall to ‘make it more meadow-like.’ The work’s hard but rewarding and I make good progress until she changes her mind on the color. I’m not even halfway through.
Each night, under Samuai’s watchful, dead gaze, I hardly sleep. When I do, it’s broken with nightmares of him and Zed being cremated alive.
Serving Lady is lonely. It involves long stretches of boredom while she thinks, plans, or sits for hours staring at the pictures of her dead son. She collapses again and I note how the panel intercom works when I use it to contact Davyd. The pink pill does its trick before he arrives. Afterwards it’s like the fit never happened.
While I wait for something to do, I think. Where do the pills come from? How are the flowers fresh every day? What is happening in the levels below? When will I get to see the Control Room?
On the third day, Huckle’s waiting when I enter the kitchen. Usually it’s just Lady and me because Davyd’s avoided me since our fight in the training rooms. I don’t know where Huckle usually eats. His sticky, expectant grin when I push open the door turns my anticipation at the sweet scent of pancakes to faint nausea.
He leans toward me. “You’ll visit your mother on the Farm level today.”
Good morning to you too.
“Yes, sir.” The reason behind the visit dampens my happiness at the prospect of seeing Mother. It’s only been two days but I miss her more than I imagined. Her strength is contagious. Despite not always agreeing with my decisions, she’s always been a wonderful sounding board to help reach them. She asks the right questions.
The patience I’ve required in the last few days has been good for something. It helps me keep all my curious questions unasked in front of the head Fishie. I perch on the edge of my seat—strange that I think of it as mine so quickly—and wait for Huckle to tell me more.
Lady bustles around the kitchen, stopping to pour her tea just so, bringing stacks of pancakes to the table from the food drawer. She allows me to clean up but insists serving the food is part of her role as hostess. Who am I to argue?
But we’re not usually observed “May I help you Lady?” I put deference in my tone.
Out of the corner of my eye, Huckle nods approvingly.
Lady’s smile is warm. “By eating a decent amount. I don’t want you fading away.” She piles a huge serving on my plate.
“Thank you.”
Under Huckle’s watchful gaze, I force myself to eat. The Lifers on the levels below would enjoy the light, sweet, and delicious fare in front of me instead of the slop we get at breakfast. Zed would’ve loved even a single bite. Today, it might as well be made of shavings from the wooden table.
While I chew, Huckle scratches his nose.
I’m nearly done when he speaks again. “They’re worried by your absence. Neale has delayed further rebellion meetings until they ascertain whether you are well.”
I don’t show my relief. Mother understood everything I attempted to tell her. That she convinced Neale to be distracted from his duties long enough to play the part of leader is a small miracle in itself. They deliberately planned this to force the Fishies to let me visit. “Of course I’m well.”
He pats my leg. “I know.”
Does his hand linger? I fight a shudder, scoff the last bite, and jump to my feet to clear dishes. I feel rather than see his slimy presence cross to the door. “Remember what will happen if you tell anyone about the device.”
How could I forget? Lives depend on it.
He leaves the room. A light hand rests on my shoulder. Lady’s painted fingers dig in to just this side of painful. “Be careful.”
I’m not sure whether she’s warning me about her husband’s wandering hands, the trip to the lower levels, or finding out about Samuai and Zed. Really, it doesn’t matter.
“I will.”
***
The day drags, but finally Davyd calls for me to accompany him to the first of the lower levels. I wait for him in the entry room. The bright yellow of the walls no longer hurts my brain, and I still love the flowers.
Lady’s in her private suite and Davyd’s nowhere to be seen. My feet take me toward the table and the vase. The yellow petals are so vibrant and the smell so sweet. All day I’ve been thinking about my old life and old friends. Kaih would love these and I owe her so much.
I don’t stop to think. As soon as I take one I regret it. If I’m caught…Davyd strides in before I put it back.
“Ready?” he snarls.
I nod, hoping my nervous sweat isn’t visible.
We walk together. He won’t allow me out of Lady’s quarters without him scanning me out. Sometimes it’s like an inescapable straightjacket of luxury, but I picture my brother and Samuai and it’s bearable.
The elevator doors slide open on the shared level. “I’ll meet you here. Be on time,” he says.
“You don’t want to come?” I ask sweetly. He doesn’t, it’s all over his face. The smells, the heat, the damp of the Farm level are so far removed from his pristine existence. When I planted the listening device, he had to be glued to my side. Now, he escorts me as far as the elevator.
“I have better things to do.” His gaze flicks to the training room.
Memories of our fight make my heart drum a faster beat. I don’t think I gasp or hesitate but the way he grins I think he knows the anger he brought out in me, the way he drove me to lose control and fight to win.
I smile. “Looking for someone who’ll go easier on you?”
“I don’t need to hear my opponent cry mercy to know when I’ve won.”
Being the one to look away first feels like losing, but I can’t stand the knowledge in his gaze. My clasped hands make a good focus, and when the elevator opens, I get in.
“Thirty minutes,” he calls out. “Don’t be late.”
I hold my head a little higher when the elevator’s doors close and I’m finally alone. The isolation of sleeping in Samuai’s bed is different. Made worse by being surrounded by his family. At least on the Lifer levels my thoughts are my own as long as I’m not working. Thirty whole minutes of freedom before I have to meet Davyd and return to the upper level. I’m going to use them.
The Farm level’s two floors below.
The door opens on a small hallway. The solid white walls here were built only two years ago when those above complained the smell drifted to the upper levels through the elevator shaft. It required the destruction of two farm buildings but the Fishies didn’t care.
Following protocol, I wait for the doors to close before sliding open the first and then the second heavy door leading to the farm.
Animal poop, fertilizer, and beneath it all, one of my favorite smells—soil—hits me first. Father always said Zed and I were made to be farmers. From the time we could talk we’d beg to leave the care center where an older Lifer looked after the ship’s children and go with our parents to the farm.
Here, there’s warmth, damp, and relaxed activity. Nothing happens quickly. The timescale of crop production and animal maturity are lightning compared to back on Earth, but still happen over weeks and months. While the components of the Pelican were being built and sent into space to be put together in pieces like a massive 3D puzzle, scientists designed a self-sufficient farming system to feed the travelers in the available cramped space.
To get to the tanks where Mother works her shift, I need to cross the wheat belt. It was one of my favorite parts of Farm visits when I was a child. The compact fields perch on a huge conveyer belt at about head height, moving the crop through the conditions required for optimum growth and eventually through the stationary harvester.
Paths across the moving belt divide the fields to allow access to the rest of the farm. It only takes a few minutes to go around but Zed and I used to cut across. Now, I walk along the edge of the belt to a set of stationary stairs. At the top, I wait for the belt of wheat to move past, the golden plants wobbling gently. A path approaches. When it aligns, I take a breath and step on. The belt moves slowly but enough to make the ground unstable beneath my feet. With the memory of my brother’s dares, I run along the path, determined to get to the other side before it aligns with a matching set of stairs on the other side.
Each slap of my slippers on the path echoes through the huge space, the biggest open area on board. Warmth from the lights above play the part of the sun and heats my skin. The spray of water from the spring that lies ahead hits my skin. An older Lifer looks up from her work at the laden fruit vines growing along the side of the belt and flashes a grin.
I leap off the other side, beating the stairs by less than a foot, and roll to avoid slamming into one of the rabbit pens on the other side.
“Still playing that game, are you?” It’s Mother. If I didn’t know better I would swear there’s a sheen in her eyes.
“Zed loved the belt run,” I say.
“He landed a little better, I think.”
I laugh. “You weren’t here the time he snapped one of the pen railings with his butt.”
She joins me in laughter but it quickly fades. There’s a lump in my throat and the pain of loss makes it hard to remember the joy with which Zed embraced everything he did. I squeeze my aching eyes shut. A Lifer stays in control; it’s one of our few defenses. When a Fishie can switch you off at will, it’s better to be able to keep your temper.
Mother’s strong arms encircle me and she pulls me against her chest. I allow my head to rest on her shoulder.
“He’d be proud,” she whispers, her hand brushing over my short hair and rubbing my back. She’s talking about my part in warning the rebellion and gathering information, but I want to believe she means finding the strength to run across the wheat belt like my brother loved.
My control returns when I force myself to pull away. I glance around the farm area but the other Lifers are deliberately looking the away. A sixteen-year-old getting a hug from her mother isn’t normal in the Lifer world, but neither are the losses our family’s had to bear. Mother’s respected and they allow us space.
We walk together to the tanks. She checks the temperature gauge and prepares the feeding pellets. I watch the plump catfish swim around and around and around.
“Is everything okay on the Fishie level?” she asks.
Her intense look implies caution. We know they’ve planted one listening device. There could be more. I nod.
“Can you help with the feed?” Mother asks.
The food pellet ricochet down into the catfish tanks gives us a few precious seconds of cover.
“We’ve been using the listening devices,” she whispers. “Playing with false information and observing their response.”
“So you haven’t missed me?” I go for light but there’s hurt underlying everything.
Mother’s hand shoots out and cups my cheek. “I’ve missed you,” she says with a fierceness that takes my breath. “Never doubt it.”
“Yes Mother,” I say with a mock salute, but the silliness keeps me from breaking down here where anyone could see me.
I relay what I can about the intercom system and the general layout above. The panel by each door sparks her interest, but I want to get to the decision that’s kept me awake at night. “I’m going for the Control Room,” I say finally.
“Why?”
Lady’s suspicions about Samuai’s and Zed’s deaths are too painful to explain right now. “To get the Remote.” Getting hold of that which could kill any of us in a heartbeat would change everything.
Mother’s brows meet in the center of a forehead with more lines than I remember. “You’ll be killed.”
“I have a plan.”
“What?”
“Lady is helping me.”
The feed chutes jerk under her hands. “Don’t trust her.”
Does she think I’m stupid? Probably. Sometimes I fear I’ll always be five in my mother’s eyes, the age I first questioned the point of the training rooms. All the other kids in the care center couldn’t wait to be old enough to get in there.
“I wouldn’t tell her about the rebellion.” I keep my frustration from my voice.
“Don’t talk to her at all.”
I say nothing. We both know in my position that’s impossible.
Mother gracefully backs down, eventually meeting my gaze. “I’m sorry, Asher. She brings out the worst in me.”
“Why?”
Mother finishes the first tank and we move together to the second. A flick of her wrist opens the chute to drop pellets into the tank. In the water below, large whiskered fish circle hungrily.
She sighs. “Fishie and Lifer kids have always trained together. Lady and I both excelled.”
I’m not surprised about Mother. She’s steely. I wouldn’t mess with her, but Lady? “She’s soft.”
“Don’t let appearances fool you. There’s a fighter in there.”
My Mother’s strong and competitive. She wouldn’t have liked being beaten by a Fishie, particularly not one like Lady. “You were enemies.”
She sighs and shakes her head slowly. “No. Best friends.”
This is like one of the puzzles Zed and I had in the care center when we were little, where you shake the board and a different picture comes out every time.
“Best friends?” I repeat.
“Inseparable.”
Mother and Lady? I picture the two of them together and the image hurts my brain. “What happened?”
Mother’s smile is tight. “What always happens between girls? A boy.”
“Father?”
“No.”
My head snaps around. “Huckle?”
She shudders. “God, no.”
I’m relieved. It’s odd enough thinking about Mother being interested in someone other than Father without it being someone so creepy. Mentally I flick through the similarly-aged men on board. They’re limited but I come up blank. I can’t imagine Mother in love with any of them.
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She concentrates hard on checking the temperature and fish numbers in the next tank. I swear her cheeks are pinker than usual. “Lady might have talked about equality and eternal friendship, but we’re Fishie and Lifer. Something was always going to come between us.”
No. My heart cries out in denial. The situation sounds all too familiar. No wonder Mother never approved of my friendship with Samuai. But Samuai wasn’t Lady and I’m not my mother.
“We would have made it.”
Mother doesn’t argue, but she doesn’t agree. “The woman has no love in her for us or ours. Be very careful.”
“Is there any other way to be?”
We finish the chore in silence and my visiting time passes far too fast. I touch her arm. “I’d better go.”
“My shift’s finished. I’ll go with you as far as the training level, if you like.”
“Please.”
I’m happy to have a few more minutes with her. Unspoken between us is the danger of the upper levels. I don’t know when I’ll attempt the Control Room. Despite Davyd’s promise of aid, there’s the chance I’ll be discovered there and killed. Could Mother survive another loss? It’s a question I never want to find out the answer to. I shut the lid on the pellet store. “Let’s go.”
“I need to scan out first.”
“I’ll meet you at the doors.”
As I walk past one of the pens for the giant rabbits, a pink nose pokes over the top of the waist-high fence. I absently brush the animal’s warm head as it nuzzles my thigh through the wire. When he was seven, Zed became convinced he’d tamed one of the babies and it would let him ride on its back. When he tried to show Mother, the mischievous rabbit dumped him in the water trough.
It’s hard being down here without thinking of Zed.
His mysterious death shadows the happy memories. What’s a training accident, anyway? The report Mother stole stated that something went wrong with the oxygen, then the gravity, and both boys were crushed. But what were they doing there together? Samuai didn’t seek extra fights, and he would never fight someone so much smaller. Would he?
My heart isn’t up to a dash across the wheat belt this time. Like the boring grownups Zed scorned and will never become, I wait for the path to align with a set of stairs and step off. I stand at the doors, waiting while Mother crosses.
The present I stole for Kaih weighs down my pocket. If she’s not in the training rooms when I pass, I’ll miss my opportunity. If I’m caught in the Control Room I might never have another.
I use the time I’m waiting to scan the whole of the Farm, but no bright splash of yellow breaks the monotony. The area’s designed so that the animal pens are grouped together and the sheds ring the walls. A bright yellow crop of flowers would be impossible to hide.
Maybe Mother can answer where Lady gets getting them.
“Are there any flowers grown down here?” I ask while we’re waiting for the elevator, my hand strays to my pocket and what I’ve hidden there.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
She doesn’t buy my attempt at casual, but she doesn’t press. I hope she trusts that when I have something worth sharing I will. Her hand waves toward the area set aside for the specially engineered fruit plants. “There’s blossom on the apple bushes.”
“Nice.”
The elevator arrives and prevents further questions.
I hate keeping secrets from Mother, but I’m doing the best I can for Zed, the rebellion, and of course Samuai.
We reach the training levels far too quickly. A part of me wants to cling to Mother and beg her to take some of the burden, but she’s taught me too well. As we move through the hallway, our progress slows and I wonder whether I’m the only one in no hurry to part. It can’t be easy for Mother all alone trying to lead a rebellion.
I spot Kaih coming out of the training rooms. Sweat shines on her face beneath the lights and her cheeks are flushed from exertion. Her smile widens when she sees me. “Asher.” Her pace picks up to a run.
She embraces me, sweat and all. And I cling on. Happy, easy to understand Kaih, who I’ve brushed off whenever she’s tried to talk. Until now. Another Lifer stops Mother to chat and Davyd isn’t by the lifts yet.
I grab Kaih’s slender hand and tug her closer to the wall. “I brought you a present,” I whisper. With a glance around to make sure no one’s paying us attention, I reach into my pocket and pull out the yellow blob of sunshine.
“A flower?” Her eyes widen and light up.
“From Lady. Keep it hidden.”
She pushes it back into my hands. “If you’re caught you’ll get in trouble.”
“No one will notice.” I hope.
Kaih traces each petal with the most reverent of touches. “It’s so soft.” There’s awe in her voice.
Kaih’s delight makes stealing the flower worth it. It warms the inside of my heart where the darkness has lingered these past few weeks.
“Asher.” Davyd’s commanding voice carries along the hallway.
“Time to go,” I say to Kaih.
She nods, tucking the flower into her pocket, holding the treasure I gave her close.
Mother catches my hand as I pass her on my way to where Davyd waits. The squeeze she gives me says everything. I want another hug but I refuse to show such weakness here. “Bye Mother.” I squeeze back and then let go.
“Take care,” she says to my back. Two simple words but I hear so much more.
Be safe. You don’t need to risk the Control Room. I’m proud of you. I love you.
Davyd’s silent in the elevator. I expected some caustic comment on my friend or family and when it doesn’t happen, I study his face for a reason. He seems distracted, but beyond that I have no idea.
Just before we enter his family’s quarters, he stops me with a touch on my shoulder, but stares ahead at the door. “If you’re staying up here for a while, you will need to familiarize yourself with the clean room next to the kitchen.”
“Clean room?” Is this a cover story to get me to the Control Room? Except he means inside the apartment.
His nose crinkles and he clears his throat. “Standards are different up here.”
I copy him, sniffing and get a whiff of the terrible smell in the Lifer quarters. “I get it,” I mutter. Davyd’s trying to tell me I reek and he’s almost being diplomatic about it. Somehow it makes the whole thing worse.
I don’t care what he thinks, I don’t. But I avoid his stare. My cheeks warm.
I lift my arms a little and inhale. It’s awful. Down in the Lifer quarters we clean with a sponge irregularly at the troughs but mostly count on the UV shower to kill anything.
Obviously the Fishies expect more.
The heat in my cheeks burns. Did Samuai think I smelled too? Maybe he did but he was too much a gentleman to say anything. I hate that Davyd constantly makes me reassess my relationship with Samuai. Davyd’s words twist and change things and Samuai isn’t here to reassure me.
We go inside and Davyd disappears in the direction of the kitchen. I should be hungry too but embarrassment combined with my own stench is an appetite killer. I offer my services to Lady but she declines, waving me away. It gives me some free time to use the clean room but I hesitate to ask. “Um…”
“What Dear?” asks Lady with a smile.
Her eyes are bright today and as far as I know she hasn’t had a single episode. Maybe knowing I’ve taken up her challenge to check the cremation logs helps.
It’s hard to spit out the words when she’s sitting there so elegantly, so classy, so clean.
“I, ah, should probably use the Clean Room.” I look at my toes making swirling patterns in the rug. They remind me of my unfinished memorial for Samuai. The ache of not finishing is sharpened by the realization I’d forgotten about it. For days.
A chill sweeps over me like one of the water condensers above has burst. How could I have forgotten? There’s no way I can finish the ritual here. It will have to wait, but this time I won’t forget. I won’t.
Lady looks up at me, sniffs delicately and wrinkles her nose. “Is that horrible stench you, dear?”
I nod.
“You really should do something about it. I thought one of the ship rats had died in the wall somewhere.” She points me to the clean room and leaves me at the white door in peace.
The handle is smooth and cool beneath my fingers but I hesitate. What if Davyd’s in there already? The reality of our living situation makes him hard to escape.
I knock but there’s no sound from inside.
I push open the door, flick on the light and am nearly blinded by the glare reflecting off white tile. It’s fresh and sparkling and I step over the threshold quickly, before I decide I’m not clean enough to enter such a space. I lock the door behind me, aware that Davyd suggested I wash.
With him in my mind, stripping doesn’t happen easily. A mirror fills one whole wall and my naked reflection’s almost as embarrassed as I am and she doesn’t quite meet my gaze. The tile’s cool beneath my feet. I step from one foot to the other while I try to figure out the shining metal taps.
I press the button marked ‘on’ and am rewarded by a burst of oh-crap-that’s-cold water. My hand slams on the button and cuts the flow but not before I’m soaked. There has to be a way to adjust temperature. Lady wouldn’t stand under this.
At last I find it. With the temperature control adjusted I push the button again. My teeth chatter loudly in the moments before the flow begins. Then the water hits me. Hot and fragrant with soap. Spraying down from four angled metal heads dousing every inch of me. A massage of water droplets caresses my skin.
I groan. It’s so good. I arch under the spray, scrubbing the grime from my skin and my scalp.
Too soon the reality of my place in the household forces my hand toward the ‘dry’ button. It hesitates there, while I enjoy the water for a few extra seconds. How much would my mother enjoy this after a long shift working on the farm?
Those Lifers who rebel against the injustice of serving out our ancestors’ crimes don’t even know what they’re missing out on. A stab of fear presses my hand down to stop the flow. For all Mother’s planning and insistence on waiting, if those below knew the extent of the lifestyle differences in the upper levels, rebellion would be impossible to stop.