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QUINN BENT OVER, GASPING for air, and tried not to collapse. She imagined Instructor Switz saying, “Better, but not good enough.” It was true. She had to be faster and stronger than most competitors to compensate for her lack of height.
“You are very athletic, aren’t you?” Kathe said.
Quinn popped up so fast her head swam but still automatically yanked her tight fitness shirt down. They were a little short in the body and tended to ride up. Her poor stomach was scratched up from scraping over the obstacles.
“Careful.” Kathe shook her head disapprovingly. “You need to be aware of your surroundings at all times. Never rely on technology to keep you safe.”
“Yes, Mis—Kathe.”
“That’s Enforcer Kathe to you, Trainee Quinn,” a female voice said, the tone like ice on a methane moon.
“Fatima, I told her to use my name. Mind your own business.”
Now the woman appeared from behind Kathe. Justice Fatima. Quinn was in trouble now. She bowed, jerky with fear.
“This is my business. Workers use proper titles at all times, Mother.”
Sand and sun. Quinn did not want to be in the middle of a family dispute, especially one with Familia’s Justice, one of the most powerful humans in the universe. Quinn rose out of her bow and stepped back, using the argument to fade away.
“Where are you going?” Kathe snapped.
“I need to cool down, please,” Quinn said as humbly as she could with her heart rate and breathing thudding at double-time.
“Ah. Yes, of course. Please do so. Come, Fatima. We’ll leave Quinn to her training.” Kathe bustled away.
Fatima stared at Quinn, while Quinn stepped back slowly, carefully not looking Justice Fatima in the eyes. She was a predator. Challenging predators was a bad idea. They’d all learned that on Secundus. After what seemed like forever, Fatima turned and strode away. Quinn started to sag but stiffened immediately. You didn’t show weakness to a predator either.
Quinn walked around the Atlas Challenge apparatus. Once her heart rate slowed, she started stretching, but she didn’t use her full y’ga stretch routine. Showing that to the Justice didn’t seem wise, despite the fact it was already on vid if someone went looking. Eventually, her muscles loosened and her sweat dried.
As she left the Fitness Center, Quinn looked around, but Justice Fatima and her mother Kathe, by all the suns, were nowhere to be seen. Why would they stay here? The ship was theirs, along with everyone in it. If they wanted her, they’d call for her. Quinn jogged along the corridors of the ship, wanting a shower in the worst way. If she was getting a lecture or punishment, she wanted to be clean and dressed.
She’d expected Kathe—Enforcer Kathe—to show up and watch her train someday, but not immediately. For one, she wasn’t that good. Since arriving on Indomito, she’d failed to fully complete the standard course; she had to reduce the difficulty of several of the elements. All these months later, with good food and plenty of rest, even with the restrictions Medico Marcello insisted on, she should be matching or exceeding her previous records.
Instructor Switz remarked on her lack of performance and wanted her to speak with a sports mental coaching medico. But Quinn doubted one was available on Indomito. Familia didn’t seem like the kind of organization that encouraged success through anything but fear of failure.
Back in her compartment, Quinn relaxed a little, but she wasn’t safe anywhere on Indomito. As she showered, she wondered again: why did Enzo want her? There were quite a few women on this ship with her heritage; many were prettier than she was and probably more willing.
She impatiently washed her hair, regretting the time it took. No matter what she did to the Style-Net, it wouldn’t do more than trim her hair. She suspected someone, probably Enzo, wanted it long, even if she didn’t. It also wouldn’t let her dye her hair to anything but dark brown, which was so annoying. She wanted cool stripes like Aurora wore, but no, she was stuck with plain, boring dark brown. So boring. Her natural color of almost black was better, so she didn’t bother trying anymore.
She dressed in another dark gray shipsuit and her usual boots. What should she do now? Normally, she’d join one of the net games or go to a lower level lounge with her fellow trainees, but she didn’t want to be around others if the Justice was going to call for her. She also didn’t want to waste her day off. Maybe just a walk through the garden level? Quinn bit her lip. Wait, she could go to the observation deck.
Before she consciously made the decision, she left her compartment and took the float tube to the upper levels of the gigantic ship. There, she made her way to the best part of Indomito. The center of this deck was covered with a thick layer of clear plas and multiple layers of shielding, so anyone could lie on a lounger and stare out into space. If there was an emergency, a cerimetal blast door slammed into place, but who would be stupid enough to attack the Justice’s ship? Accidents were unlikely—asteroids and other space junk were blasted out of the way.
Quinn walked around the outside of the observation area, the part open to everyone. The inner part of the deck was separated into smaller areas, some containing ten or more lounges, some just one or two. The center areas were reserved for high-status people, like Enforcers and the ship’s officers. Quinn’s favorite lounge chair was on the outer ring, furthest from any of the entrances, and separated slightly from the other loungers, as if a row had been removed at some point. She turned the corner and stopped.
Kathe waited on her lounger. When Quinn jolted to a halt, Kathe frowned and beckoned with an impatient finger.
Quinn started walking, carefully keeping her expression neutral. So much for relaxation.
“Join me, Quinn,” Enforcer Kathe said imperiously.
“Of course, Enforcer Kathe.” Quinn took a seat on the lounger next to her.
“Just Kathe when we’re alone. I really don’t enjoy titles being thrown at me.”
Quinn said nothing. Eaten by a giant lizard or giant bird, either way she was dead.
“Never mind. My daughter is right, but I don’t have to like it.” Kathe scowled. “I watched your run this morning and compared it to one of the vids from Adzari Net Academy. You are slower. Why?”
“I haven’t fully recovered yet.” Quinn winced, remembering.
“Recovered from?”
“It’s in my records, but essentially, I almost starved to death.” Quinn tried to sound like she didn’t care, but she couldn’t fool herself. She sounded scared and desperate, as if she were still there. She’d been here, safe, for two months. She should be over all this drama. The problem was, she knew she wasn’t safe on Indomito.
“I see.”
When Quinn looked at Kathe, she was busily swiping through screens. Quinn sagged a little before she caught herself. Why would Kathe care? Kathe was important, Quinn was nobody.
“There. Medico Marcello will ensure you see our mental health specialists. There is no reason you should continue to suffer the effects of abuse. Hmph. I can’t believe no one has seen to you before this. Unacceptable.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Enforcer Kathe turned away for a moment. “I also have something for you. Here.” She held out an e-torc.
Quinn took it from her, gingerly.
“Go ahead, it won’t bite.” She chuckled. “The configuration is exactly the same as your current e-torc. The new one has enough memory and speed to do what you need to do.” Kathe frowned. “You have sufficient patience already, there’s no need to test it.”
Quinn pulled her old one off and put the new one on. Before she did anything else, she stood and bowed deeply to Kathe. “Thank you so very much, Enforcer Kathe. I appreciate this more than I can express.”
“You’re welcome. They have plenty of decent e-torcs, they’re just hoarding them for no reason. Typical supply people, they want their inventory safely on the shelves. They don’t understand good workers require good tools and decent support, not stupid harassment and power games. People who want to play power games should be far more subtle.” Kathe shook her head, with a twisted frown on her face. “Play stupid games, lose.”
Wasn’t that phrase, “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes?” Well, Enforcer Kathe could do whatever she wanted, including changing common sayings. Quinn wanted to play with her new e-torc, but that would be terribly rude.
“Well, go ahead. Take it for a spin.” Kathe rose and held up a hand when Quinn jumped to her feet. “Relax, enjoy the view, play with your new e-torc. I have other things to do today. I will see you later.”
Quinn sank back down on the lounge and watched Kathe walk away. Kathe started slow but sped up and was quickly out of sight. Quinn lay back on the lounger and stared up at space. Not much up there right now, but that was okay. A black background was perfect for reconfiguring an e-torc. She spun through the menus and settings, but Kathe was right. They’d cloned her old one perfectly onto this top of the line model. That was so nice of her.
Or was it? What did Kathe really want? Quinn had no idea.
#
CHECKING HER CALENDAR for the day’s activities, Quinn noticed she’d been on Indomito for six months. She felt stronger physically and mentally, but despite that, she couldn’t stop watching for traps, ready to squeeze in around her. Some days were worse than others; like today. Probably because of tonight’s big Familia anniversary—Quinn was ordered to attend. The Majordomo told her what to wear—a snug, stretchy, dark-blue floor-length gown already in her closet.
Quinn grimaced. Initially, she thought it was modest, covering her completely, with long sleeves and a wide band around her neck. But the back was basically non-existent, and there was a huge, heart-shaped cutout in the front, displaying the ugly tattoo, and the heart’s point was cut too low, showing her underwear. She shuddered, remembering her first sight of the mark of ownership framed by the too-sexy dress. Why her? It was an unanswerable question.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Kathe demanded her company, so she still had a chance to get out of wearing the horrible thing. If she reached Kathe’s suite early, Kathe would insist she change into something more age-appropriate. Enzo wouldn’t publicly fight Kathe. But was that a fight Kathe should take on? Quinn noticed Kathe tired quickly and the shadows under her eyes deepened daily despite the makeup she wore. Kathe insisted there was nothing wrong, but Quinn knew better. Kathe was aging rapidly or ill. Or being poisoned. Or all of the above.
So, did she want Kathe to fight this battle? Or should Quinn embrace the pain? What could she do without offending Enzo? Quinn had no idea what he found attractive. He didn’t talk to her or watch her, at least not in person. If it wasn’t for his name on her body, she’d have no idea he was interested. Which might mean he wasn’t interested in little girls. Quinn bit her lip, considering her face and hair in the mirror.
What if she braided her hair on both sides, high on her head, and twisted the braids around themselves, forming a big knot on either side of her head? She’d look like a child playing dress-up.
Then she’d wear sparkly, light-pink lipstick and blush, which looked terrible on her skin and made her seem even more like a little girl trying to look like an adult. Then she’d wear a pair of flats with a sparkly bow on them to round out the impression.
That was all she could think of for now. Maybe something else would gel in her brain during the day. Quinn hoped so because that look could backfire. There were a lot of sexual predators who found the sexualized little-girl look very attractive. She was betting everything on guesses, but it was all she had.
But right now, she had time reserved at the Fitness Center. Quinn pulled on her athletic gear and jogged up to the fitness facility. To her surprise, her normal compartment was modified into a public court with tiered chairs. Quinn looked at the stands. She didn’t even know they could do that!
“Ah, Quinn, there you are.” Fabriano bustled up to her. “I didn’t think you’d miss your training time. Good. Get warmed up, you need to go first.”
“What’s going on?”
Fabriano grinned, a big self-satisfied grin. “Oh, just a little friendly competition. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“I didn’t sign up for a competition!”
“I know. I designed one around you. You do the run, then everyone else’s scores get compared to yours. Anyone can bet on how much better or worse a score may be than yours.” He smirked. “I get a small cut of the action, of course.”
Quinn frowned and folded her arms. “And if I refuse to participate in this little scheme of yours?”
Fabriano snorted. “You won’t. Your life will be miserable.”
Quinn snorted back. “I’ve lived through miserable. You’re nothing. An empty threat.” Quinn turned away. “I’m not doing this. Non-sanctioned betting is illegal. I want nothing to do with it.”
Fabriano grabbed the back of her T-shirt. “Oh, yes, you are doing this,” he hissed in her ear. “No one’s going to know, I fixed the vids. You’ll do this or you and Aurora will start having a lot of problems. And I’ll take this.” He yanked the e-torc off her so hard it scraped her skin. Hopefully, it wasn’t bleeding.
She stomped on his foot and pulled away. “You’re an idiot. Did you not hear about this?” Quinn pulled up her shirt and pulled the front of her pants down just a little.
Fabriano stared, wide-eyed, and the color drained from his face. Security personnel entered, sending the would-be spectators and competitors running, but the hatches slammed shut. One of the black-armored people grabbed Fabriano’s arms and wrenched them behind his back. Fabriano dropped her e-torc, and Quinn took a chance, stooping to grab it before it was crushed. She looked up to see a stunner pointed at her, Fabriano sprawling to the side.
“That wasn’t smart, Trainee Quinn,” the armored man said.
“Sorry, I just didn’t want it crushed. I didn’t think how it would look to you.”
He holstered the stunner. “Think next time.”
“I’d rather there wasn’t a next time.”
“That would be best. You’re free to go. I recommend you stay in your compartment for the rest of the day.”
“Yes, sir.” Quinn walked as fast as she could without running. One of the security people opened the hatch for her, and she sprinted from there. Rather than suffering the slow, crowded lift tube, she took the stairs, jumping down them like they were part of the training course, and ran to her compartment, almost crashing into her bed.
Why did these things happen to her? Why did everyone think she was an idiot? Evidently, her efforts to look childlike were effective. Too effective. She rolled to her back and started breathing slow and easy, trying to calm herself. Fabriano would pay for his stupidity, but was he pulling others down with him? Fabriano wasn’t just another trainee, either. He was the son of someone important. None of this was her fault, but she was sure his family, maybe others, would blame her, regardless. Why did he decide to pull this level of stupidity today, of all days?
Maybe he’d gotten away with similar things before? He obviously didn’t know she was “special.” Now, everyone knew. She’d be a pariah again. All the friendships she’d developed were gone.
What an awful, horrible day. Quinn gave up on meditation and cried.
#
A REMOTE BROUGHT HER lunch, but it sat uneaten. Quinn knew she had to eat, but her stomach was too upset. Finally, she threw off her pity party, got out of bed, and ate. She forced it down quickly, not taking the time to taste the food. As she finished, she realized there wasn’t much taste—the meal was bland but perfect for muscle recovery. Maybe someone on the cooking staff heard what happened? She was always nice to the cafeteria and cleaning staff—their job was difficult enough and they deserved a lot more than the basic human decency they rarely received.
By the time she finished eating, she felt better. She followed the meal with a gentle y’ga recovery and meditation routine and felt almost normal. Well, what passed for normal these days. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad. Fabriano wasn’t the most popular person—he used his family/Familia connections too much. Nobody trusted him. She’d known he was heavily involved in the underground betting schemes, but she hadn’t realized he was the leader. If Enforcers were participating, she might be in real trouble.
Except she wasn’t, because of the tattoo. Quinn would be protected and avoided. Only more so than before. With the security folks swooping in to “rescue” her, it was obvious they were watching her constantly. Quinn sighed. Little she could do about any of it except survive. And learn enough to escape. Despite the endless warnings to not exceed their assigned tasks and limits, Quinn was determined to learn everything she could.
Since she had access to all the learning modules, she’d started doing her fellow trainees’ lessons in the evenings while she simultaneously played net games. Since she stuck to the easiest games, she was able to split her attention enough to learn. She’d stumbled a few times in the games, earning a reputation as a poor player, which suited her fine. Being underestimated was good.
Usually. Obviously, Fab completely underestimated her.
Well, all this moping wasn’t doing any good. Quinn took a shower, did her hair and makeup, and shimmied into the poor excuse for a dress. Surveying herself in the mirror, she snorted. This thing didn’t do her any favors. To pull this off, she needed a curvy figure. Quinn was built like an active teenage boy; skinny muscles and hardly any shape. With her obvious heritage, Quinn doubted she’d ever be curvy. She looked a lot like Lightwave’s Katryn—tiny frame, gold-brown skin, wide-set, slightly tilted dark-brown eyes, and almost black hair with a bluish undertone. Katryn’s sex appeal came from her confidence and intensity, not her body shape. Quinn hoped she could learn how to pull off Katryn’s tricks, but on Indomito, that probably wasn’t smart.
If she looked too confident, Enzo would think she was happy about her position. But if she was parading through Indomito in this ridiculous dress, she’d need every bit of surety and pride she had to survive. This thing clearly marked her as property. She wouldn’t allow anyone else to treat her that way. She was a person, an individual, not a thing or a remote.
Her hatch chimed, and she crossed the compartment to greet Enforcer Kathe. Why had she come down here?
“What are you wearing?” Kathe asked, her lip curling. “That’s horrendous.”
“What I was told to wear, Enforcer Kathe.”
Kathe pushed past her and marched into her sani-mod. “Who told you to wear that thing?”
“The majordomo, Enforcer Kathe. She messaged me directly, telling me the navy-blue dress was appropriate.”
“If you were twenty-two and looking for a liaison, yes. Fourteen and a child, no.” Kathe was pulling out dresses and dropping them on the floor, each on accompanied by a sound of distaste or disgust. “None of these are suitable for your age. I don’t know what those people are thinking. Enzo isn’t a child molester.”
“Maybe one of the design team is,” Quinn muttered.
Kathe spun and scowled at her.
Quinn held up both hands. “My apologies. I spoke out of turn, Enforcer.”
“No, you didn’t. It’s an interesting thought.” She sniffed. “It could even be true. Or not.” A wry smile. “But I’ll find out.”
Great. More people who would hate her.
Kathe turned back to the pile of dresses. She stooped and pulled a particularly hideous sparkly silver shipsuit off the decking. Quinn hadn’t really looked at it. The first time she pulled it out, she’d almost dropped the thing because it was ridiculously heavy, with lots of silver chains all over it. “Ah hah. This will work.” Kathe pulled it off the hanger. “Get me a pair of scissors.”
Quinn tried to think of where she’d find such a thing. The laser on the Style Net?
“Never mind. Hold this,” Kathe said, handing her the silver monstrosity. “Hold it stretched out.”
Quinn did so and barely held herself in place when a long, thin knife appeared in Kathe’s hand, apparently out of nowhere.
“Excellent.” A few slices and Quinn was holding the remains of the jumpsuit. “Drop that mess on the floor with the rest of it. Junk. Nothing but junk.” Kathe handed her what appeared to be a wide belt made of fine silver chains. “Put that on.”
Quinn flipped it over, pulled the fasteners apart, and snapped it into place around her waist. The belt of woven chains rested on the top of her hipbones, with more chains draping below. It completely covered the cut-out on the dress, falling to her upper thighs. It was quite heavy, even though it was now apparent the material was plas of some sort, not metal. Thankfully, it didn’t ring like metal either. That would be annoying.
“Much better, although still not young enough for you.” Kathe motioned. “Turn.” She harrumphed. “Thank the big black hole of Andromeda the belt isn’t made of big chains, or you’d look like something else entirely. Pick that thing back up.” Her finger pointed down.
Quinn stooped to get the shredded silver suit.
“Just the top.”
Quinn held it out by the shoulders.
“Turn it around...yes. That will work.” A few more slices and Kathe held a wide circle of chains. She dropped it over Quinn’s head, on her shoulders. “Not bad. Turn.”
Quinn did, the odd necklace heavy on her shoulders.
“Yes. It covers down to your shoulder blades, and the belt covers your waist. Much better.” Kathe grabbed her waist and turned her around again. “Yes, garish, but modest. Much better. Let’s go.” She pushed her around again and out of the sani-mod, through her compartment and out the hatch. Kathe towed her down the corridor and up the lift tube to the Justice’s level.
Quinn had never been on this level. She never wanted to be on this level. But she had no choice. She followed Kathe into a small area with a closed hatch, two armored guards waiting. One motioned and the hatch slid open. Quinn followed Enforcer Kathe inside. The hatch slid shut behind them—they were in an airlock. A luxury airlock—that was real wood on the walls—but still an airlock. Interesting. After a few seconds, the next hatch slid open.
A woman in a severe black shipsuit bowed low. “Welcome, Enforcer Kathe. Thank you for bringing Trainee Quinn. But what is she wearing? This is,” the woman’s face wrinkled like she’d eaten something awful, “bright. This was supposed to be a sophisticated dark blue dress.”
“Your idea of sophisticated and mine are far different. Below all that silver, the dress shows too much skin. It is too sexy for a young girl.” Kathe said, her tone slightly menacing.
“It is? It’s supposed to be modest.” The woman’s lips clamped together momentarily. “Unacceptable. I will fix this, Enforcer.”
“All her formalwear is unacceptable. Fix all of it. And fix the idiot who thought dressing a little girl in sex worker clothes was a good idea.”
“Yes, right away, Enforcer. Aperitifs are almost finished. You may go straight to dinner, Enforcer.”
“Good.”
Quinn followed Kathe through a large compartment filled with luxurious soft seating areas in charcoal and maroon, surrounding low wood tables. Taller tables waited around the perimeter with a few stools. It looked expensive. Smelled expensive too, a faint, pleasant scent of citrus and cinnamon.
The next compartment was a dining area. About twenty people, all with the Familia look, stood around a massive, dark brown wood table, with matching cabinets along the sides of the compartment. The people were older than her by ten or more years, with an equal number of males and females. Most of the women wore long, tight, jewel-toned dresses and the men fancier versions of their daily pin-stripe shipsuits. So, the whole table was probably Enforcers other than her. Won’t this be fun?
On the table, silver candlesticks with candles, real flames flickering, long, low floral centerpieces, and cream-colored china plates with gold and maroon patterns. There were also several wine glasses and lots of heavy silver utensils at each setting. Chandeliers sparkled above them, and the walls were a deep burgundy red. The scent of roasted meat and baking bread hung in the air. Wow. This was really something.
“Quinn, you are there.” Kathe pointed at a seat on the other side. “I’m across from you.”
“Thank you, Enforcer Kathe.” She rounded the end of the table, the chair empty. Quinn started to sit, then noticed everyone else was standing. She waited patiently, despite the side glances from the rest of the diners.
The man standing to her left turned to her. “Well, hello. Who are you?”
She looked up, way up. He was tall and very thin. “I’m Net Trainee Quinn Cygnus. Pleased to meet you.” She bowed, unsure how deep to go.
“Ah. I see. I’m Corto. I am also pleased to meet you, Quinn Cygnus. Across the table, next to the lovely Kathe, is Trevi.”
“We’ve met, Corto.” Trevi surveyed Corto like she’d found something on the bottom of her shoe. “I retrieved Quinn from her school.”
“Ah, my memory. So terrible.” Corto shrugged one shoulder and tossed his head.
“Oh, yes. So awful.” Trevi said dryly.
The hatch at the other end of the room opened, and a man and a woman entered. The woman was Justice Fatima. She wasn’t pretty, but she was still somehow beautiful, with the typical olive skin and espresso brown hair of Familia. She looked quite young, but Quinn knew body mods were easy to get in most parts of the universe. Probably right here on this ship, if you were an enforcer. The man also looked young, with the Familia resemblance, but Quinn knew she didn’t want to cross him. Head Enforcer Enzo was dangerous. He trod down the table, his eyes fastened on her. Quinn held herself stiffly to hold back a shiver and stared at his chin.
After Enzo reached the seat next to hers, he looked away, at Justice Fatima. A man dressed in a plain black shipsuit, evidently a server, pulled out Fatima’s chair and pushed it in behind her. The other men at the table did the same, Corto pulling hers out. It seemed very awkward to her, but everyone else seemed to manage just fine.
“Well, Quinn, we finally meet in person.” The man at the foot of the table said to her. “I am Head Enforcer Enzo.”
She lowered her upper body as far as she could without hitting the table. “I am pleased to meet you, Head Enforcer Enzo.”
“Good. I see they failed to follow my directions.” He frowned as he scanned her from head to toe and back.
“Enzo, I’m fixing it,” Kathe said imperiously. “They dressed her like a strafiga, not a little girl. Disgusting.”
“She’s not a little girl, Kathe,” Enzo said. “She’s a teenager.”
“Hmph. Barely.”
“She has a little girl body,” Trevi said. “She should wear clothes that make the most of what she’s got.” She shimmied, the thin straps on her tight red gown almost falling off her shoulders.
“She will not dress like a puttana,” Kathe growled.
“Of course not, Kathe. But she will wear whatever I want,” Enzo said, very slowly.
Kathe just stared at him. Neither looked away until the woman at the head of the table spoke.
“Gentles, let us eat!”
Servers rushed in, bearing pitchers, trays, and bottles. Water and wine poured into her glasses, a small plate set in front of her, another above. The one above had a tiny loaf of white bread, with a rosette of butter flecked with green herbs, and the one in front of her appeared to be...something in a red sauce.
While she was examining it, one of the servers asked her, “Parmesan, Mistress?”
Quinn glanced around; most were accepting some. “Yes, please, and thank you.”
The woman used a small grater with a block of something in a napkin, sprinkling little bits of something a light yellow over the red sauce. “Would you like more, Mistress?”
“No, thank you.”
Thankful Adzari Academy had a few formal dinners as part of their employment training, Quinn picked up the small fork furthest from the plate and slid the tines through the sauce, picking up some sort of meat? She ate it, tasting salt and smoky oil in a small fillet of some sort of fish. The sprinkles tasted like an aged cheese. The dish was okay but not her favorite, so she left the rest. With the number of utensils around her plate, this was a big, elaborate dinner and sure to have too much food for her, so leaving some behind was a good idea.
Her plate was removed, and another plate replaced it, with a salad of multi-colored leaves, ribbons of dark, slightly purplish brown dressing layered over it, and small cubes of dried bread on top. Colorful bits of what she assumed were vegetables were also sprinkled in. She forked up a bite, enjoying the crunch of the veggies and the tangy but sweet dressing.
During this course, Quinn shot glances at her fellow diners. Many of them engaged in quiet conversations but some just ate. Enzo appeared to be one of the “concentrate on the food” types; Kathe spoke quietly with Trevi. No one spoke across the table. Since Quinn had nothing to say to Enzo or Corto, she stayed quiet and kept reminding herself to relax her shoulders—they kept rising to her ears.
Everyone at the table drank their wine, each course a new and different wine, but Quinn refrained. She didn’t like wine and she did not need to lower her guard.
A pasta course followed, this one in a bright green sauce, then one with breaded and fried poultry and one with some sort of red meat. Another red-sauced pasta course, then a small dish of something icy, slightly sweet and lemony. She took a bite or two of everything, but with all this food, anything more and she’d be stuffed to the point of pain.
At this point, Enzo and Kathe started a conversation that escalated into heated hissing, but never got loud enough for Quinn to fully hear. Trevi appeared to add fuel to the fire with comments to Kathe, while Corto watched avidly.
Finally, they reached the end of the meal. Or Quinn hoped that’s what the last utensil, a dainty spoon, meant. A tall, fluted glass with a pedestal was placed in front of her, bright, colorful layers interspersed with creamy white and spongy yellow.
“Coffee or tea?” the server murmured.
“Neither, thank you.”
“You don’t drink anything but water?” Corto asked, his nose wrinkling.
“No. I’m an athlete.”
“Oh, yes. The unpleasantness.” He sniffed. “Terrible.”
“I didn’t know anything about any of that,” Quinn told him, very quietly. “Fabriano didn’t ask me.”
“Shh. No names,” Corto whispered back.
Quinn nodded her thanks and spooned up some of the dessert to avoid saying anything else stupid. Sweet fruit, fluffy creamy stuff, and light cake combined into a delicious whole. She didn’t have to work at eating this one—it was wonderful.
The other courses weren’t bad, just different. The heavy sauces covered the taste of the ingredients. The texture seemed odd to her too, smooth and oily, but she wasn’t used to fine dining. Plain food was good enough for her. Except for this desert—she could happily eat this every day for the rest of her life. Quinn scraped the bottom of the glass and sighed.
Kathe chuckled. “Would you like mine?”
Quinn’s cheeks felt like she’d spent an hour in Cygnus Gliese’s noon sun. “No, please go ahead. It was delicious.”
Enzo twitched a finger, and a server placed another glass in front of her. “Go ahead, Quinn. Enjoy.”
Quinn swallowed hard, not sure she could eat. She looked at his chin. “Thank you, Head Enforcer Enzo.” She took a spoonful, intensely aware of his eyes on her, trying not to feel like a mouse freezing when the shadow of an air hunter swept over. She ate steadily and hoped it would stay down, but her stomach churned uneasily. She finished, and feeling his eyes still on her, said, “Thank you, Head Enforcer Enzo, it was delicious.” Then she sat back and stared into the distance, carefully not meeting anyone’s eyes.
Applause started and Quinn jumped a little. She turned to look at what everyone else was looking at and clapped too, not wanting to draw attention to herself. A man, slightly heavyset, dressed in white, stood there. This must be the Chef. He bowed deeply, turned, and exited through what Quinn assumed was the kitchen hatch.
“Gentles, let us return to the gathering room,” Justice Fatima said.
Everyone stood, and Quinn scrambled to her feet, jumping a little when her chair was pulled away. Corto smiled and nodded toward the foot of the table. Quinn followed his gaze to find Enzo waiting, his arm crooked. Quinn swallowed and slid her hand around his elbow, resting it on his forearm, as she saw some of the other women do. It wasn’t comfortable—her skin practically shrank from the contact and Enzo’s height pulled her arm uncomfortably high. She held back a shudder. He led her to the couches in the very center of the room and motioned for her to sit on one end of a short couch. He sat next to her, taking her hand between his.
Quinn clamped a closed-lip smile on her face and somehow managed to not pull her hand away. She couldn’t show emotion, especially fear, but she felt trapped.
“You need to grow up,” Enzo stated.
Quinn blinked at him, accidentally meeting his beady eyes, unsure what to say to such a strange statement.
“Enzo, she’s a little girl,” Enforcer Kathe said, taking a seat across from them. “She’s fourteen standard years old. She’ll be grown up in about three years. You should have left her at the Academy.”
Enzo flicked a derisive look at Kathe. “She’s not fourteen, her medical records show it.” His hand clamped down on hers.
“Did you notice the part about her being almost starved to death? No matter what her true age is, her body will need time to recover. It’s clear in her athletic performance that she hasn’t.”
Enzo’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s why it’s stopping, today.”
“What?! Stop? Why?” Quinn exclaimed, unable to help herself.
Enzo turned his glare on her, flinging her hand away. “Yes, it stops. No more Atlas competitions. Your body needs time to heal and mature. I spoke with the medicos. High-level training can delay proper growth. I will not have this. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Head Enforcer Enzo.” Quinn dropped her eyes to the floor. The only thing keeping her sane, the one thing she looked forward to, was gone. Taken by these evil people, just like everything else.
“You may continue mild exercise. Healthy exercise. The medico staff will prescribe it. You will follow the prescription precisely. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Head Enforcer Enzo.”
“Good. You are excused. Return to your compartment.”
Thank the Mother for small—and big—favors. Quinn rose, bowed, and walked away as quickly as she could in the ridiculous dress.
“Well, at least she’s obedient,” Enzo said behind her. Quinn slowed a little. “Kathe, if you want to mentor the girl, fine, but she must grow into a woman. Little girl bodies are not attractive. She will grow into an obedient and lovely woman, capisce?”
“That’s all I’m trying to do, Enzo.”
Their voices faded as she neared the airlock. The severely dressed woman still stood there. Was that her job? To wait at hatches and greet people? Maybe Quinn’s life wasn’t so bad after all.
“Trainee Quinn, you will have new formal wear later this week.” Her lip curled. “Don’t wear this again.” She flicked a hand up and down in front of Quinn’s body. “And color your hair brown. The color is programmed in the Style-Net already.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“It’s Majordomo.”
“Yes, Majordomo. Thank you, Majordomo.” She scampered past the woman and into the airlock. It closed behind her with an ominous thud, then the next hatch opened. She was free of the pit of sand vipers. For now.
Strolling to her compartment, Quinn pondered. She’d escaped this time, but what about the next? And the one after that? She was on a folder in space controlled by some of the most important people in Familia. There were only so many places she could go and nowhere to hide. And the next steps in her unwilling transformation had started—no more competitive sports and forcing her to change her hair color. He’d make her do body mods next. She shuddered. Why her? Why not someone already built in the Familia mode? It made no sense to her.
But it did to Enzo and that was all that counted on this ship.
Quinn entered her compartment and sani-mod, stripped off the ugly outfit, and threw it all in the recycler. She noticed someone had already hung all the formal clothes back up except the shredded silver jumpsuit—it was gone. She put on some comfortable athletic wear and collapsed into her lounge chair, burying her head in her hands. But she wasn’t going to cry. No, she’d save the tears for public performances only.
She had to escape, but how? The only way off this folder was on a shuttle. She could research shuttle schedules and manifests and maybe find a way to hide on one, but she was pretty sure they were inspected before leaving and guarded while docked. She could study piloting, but she’d probably get caught. Piloting a shuttle wasn’t that hard, though, with autopilots. It was getting a shuttle, with permission to fly away from Indomito, and then getting away to someplace big enough to get lost in that was the problem. So, she didn’t need to study piloting, she needed to study who flew regularly and why. Which might not be so hard. She’d noticed the shuttles from the observation deck; basic information about each shuttle was publicly available unless they were Enforcers, just like it was for other folders, stations, planets, and the occasional comet.
Then she’d have to study comms and how to fake the comms between the shuttle and Indomito and the stations and planets. Or convince a pilot to take her somewhere? Hmm. Maybe those awful dresses would come in handy after all.
Quinn nodded to herself. Assuming she could convince a pilot to take her to a station, then she’d have to break into the station’s surveillance and make sure she wasn’t seen. So, she had to learn to do that first; she’d already started learning how to break into nets as part of the net maintenance courses, but she had to become a real expert. She also had to break into Indomito’s surveillance and loop a vid of her in her compartment. She’d have to start planting those doctored vids on real net techs, not just her fellow trainees’. This would be difficult because she didn’t have access to those nets, workstations, and compartments. Or she’d have to find a way in through the net, which she didn’t quite have the skills to pull off yet either. Quinn bit her lip. At this rate, her lip would start bleeding soon.
Then she had to steal and break into someone’s e-torc to get credits to buy passage on another shuttle to another folder, far away. She couldn’t go back to Cygnus Secundus. She’d have to find a job somewhere else. Fortunately, good net technicians were always needed. She could find some fringe world with no records, similar to Cygnus Secundus, and get lost.
Hmm, maybe not quite that fringe. Not enough people to hide among. Someplace outside the core, but not fringe. There had to be plenty of worlds like that. But she couldn’t openly research that, either, because her search history was undoubtedly monitored.
She’d need weapons too. She never wanted to be caught again. She had to be ready to fight off anyone and everyone. Quinn played the first-person shooter games just to keep her skills sharp—back on Secundus, fighting off predators was a never-ending chore—but she could learn the strategy and tactics games too.
In short, she had to become Katryn, Lightwave’s net Security chief and y’ga expert. So, Katryn she’d become, no matter what it took. Quinn would do this, and she would escape. There was no room for doubt.