Trina fumed as she slipped into the ducts again and made her way along the passage to the Briniak section. How dare he try to bribe his way to Katie? The picture was no more his than she could lay claim to it. She pushed aside the memory of her plan to steal it, a plan foiled by his quicker hand.
She realized now, well too late, in her speed to take Katie away from the threats of their former life, she hadn’t set any limits. Grandfather could string her along for the whole voyage or even further. She might never get to join the life Katie now enjoyed. She might never be freed of these lies.
Katie might worry that Trina made ties to spacers instead of colonists, the latest explanation her sister had crafted in the face of Trina’s silence, but the quiet happiness emanating from her sister at other times made all this worth it. In the shafts, Katie had no one beyond Trina and Mother. Now she had a wealth of friends—and Aaron.
Someday Trina would be able to claim the family, but not yet. Katie showed little interest in her grandfather, and Trina wouldn’t change that as long as he held her trapped. When the debt ended was soon enough.
A fragment of the conversation with Grandfather traced through her mind and she realized he wanted the deal to end as well. If only they could reach the point he sought. She’d long suspected confusion was only part of his plan, but she couldn’t see what Grandfather would gain in this. Something about how he spoke of Tasrien bothered her though.
Trina forced herself to concentrate. She might be able to walk these paths in her sleep, but so could the cleaning robots. They ran on no schedule she’d been able to determine and she’d almost bumped into crewmembers in the ducts as well. Better they didn’t know one of the colony wandered their paths. She’d seen no sign of another from Ceric so it seemed no other family had one like her, able to take advantage of the ducts.
The distant echo of the engines and faint clinks of metal on metal reassured her. None of the noises sounded nearby and she’d almost reached her destination. At least she didn’t have to run back to the crane to change. The clothing of her home city was close enough to that of Briniak to pass a casual look.
The sections held around eighty people from each family. As the months passed, the presence of an unknown child became more noticeable whatever efforts she took to blend in. Though she stayed slender, and she’d never have her sister’s height, soon no one would mistake her for a child.
Trina hesitated, wondering if she should grab the wig from her hiding place anyway to cover her bright hair, but then decided she didn’t have time. Though they’d scheduled her visit, it seemed she’d come later than Grandfather had expected. She had little leeway before the evening gathering made slipping in and out difficult. Briniak ran weekly contests as did Menthak, and everyone attended who could. All around her, the colonists prepared for their new lives, learning necessary skills and constructing tools. Only Trina remained trapped in her old existence.
Pushing back her morose thoughts, Trina focused on the task. Wandering around rather than joining in would make her stand out. She had to drop the paper and leave before the contest gathering began.
Trina paused outside a panel, triggering the listening feature only to hear the distinct sound of a replicator delivering a meal. She moved on to the next small room on Level B, tracing in her mind all the easy routes to where she had to leave the paper.
They must have planned something special for the evening because the next two rooms also held people, much earlier than usual. Though she could see no timepiece from within the tunnels, she could feel the minutes drifting away as she kept changing plans. She’d started with so many options her task had seemed easy. Now, she could feel sweat gathering on her forehead, and her shoulders ached with tension.
Trina put the tool up to the second-to-last room she could use, despair welling inside her. How could she press her grandfather if she couldn’t complete her tasks? He’d said once her efforts showed results he’d let her go. She had to succeed.
She listened again, hope rising as no sounds echoed back to her. Not waiting another second, Trina triggered the panel, slipping over it before the metal came to rest just above the duct floor.
After landing on her hands and feet, she quickly straightened before pressing the button to close the panel. She could smell the bitter taint of sweat, but hoped no one would come close enough to sense her fear.
The panel clicked shut just as approaching footsteps dashed her hopes.
“Hi there. You eating? The other rooms are full. No one wants to miss the runoff.”
Trina mumbled a response, knowing she couldn’t imitate the strong accent of a true Briniak. She kept her head low as she brushed past the older woman and entered the corridor to their common area.
“Probably one of the losers.”
Trina smiled at the woman’s response. If she only knew the truth.
Her smile vanished as Trina looked out over the common area. It swarmed with people of all ages, setting up chairs to form an audience and laughing, talking, playing games. While the adults might not recognize her as unknown, the children would. None of the colony sections had enough children. She stood still, trying to figure out how to reach where the paper had to fall without them catching her.
A hand landed on her shoulder, making Trina jump in surprise.
“Don’t be shy now. They want as many playmates as they can find. Whatever happened, it’ll all work out. I promise.”
She turned to face an older gentleman, his features covered in wrinkles that moved to bracket his mouth and eyes when he smiled. It took her a moment to hear what he’d said because of how he stretched the words out as if he had all the time in the world. From his clothes, she placed him as a laborer, but tried to remember none of that mattered any longer. The others had been together long enough that those habits were fading from what she’d seen and Katie said.
He pushed her shoulder, his touch gentle. “Go on. There won’t be much time for play tonight, and if you don’t wear your energy down, you’ll squirm through the challenges. At least if you’re anything like my granddaughters that is.” He laughed, a surprisingly deep sound coming from his slender frame.
Trina smiled back, driven to respond by his kindness but knowing her voice would give her away. She nodded, pretending to be the shy child he thought she was, and took a few hesitant steps toward the children. Why couldn’t her grandfather act this way?
She heard him follow and then watched as he joined a group of adults, apparently considering his work done. Her breath rushed out on a sigh of relief, but the task remained. Trina wandered out as if looking for someone, moving closer and closer to her goal.
The common area rang with laughter and she didn’t hear a single raised voice even while some worked hard to assemble the room for the evening. It reminded her of watching Festival gatherings, only better. Here, true equality had grown, or at least a close semblance of it.
She glanced back at the corridor she’d come from and then across to the archway marking the connection to the main paths between sections. She stood near enough to where the procession of visitors must have passed.
Trina imitated one of the children playing and spun in a slow circle as if dancing to her own music. She used the movement to scan the room. No one watched her. She bent over, hiding her actions as dance movements while she worked the paper from beneath her shirt and let it fall to the floor.
Straightening up again, she spun another circle. She noticed a group of workers had moved closer than she found comfortable, but she’d completed her task. She only had to get out safely.
Skipping as she’d seen other children do, Trina couldn’t help noticing the only time she played was a mockery. Her gaze drifted to the children. She’d never had the chance to join in the Menthak games. Sometimes it seemed she never would.
Trina stumbled, the thought so overwhelming she couldn’t maintain her pretense of playing. Her hands hit the floor, catching her weight, and she sprang back up, using skills no child should have.
“Hey, girl!”
Trina sent a frantic glance back and realized a man looked directly at her. Her heart surged into her throat. She wanted to run, but could not think over the blood pounding in her ears. What would crew security do to her? Would Katie be okay?
“You dropped something.” He swept up the incriminating paper and sweat burst out on her palms, held trapped by the nearly invisible gloves. The scent of terror rose around her.
Trina bit into the side of her cheek, determined to try something to escape. The pain brought with it a moment of sanity. He wasn’t accusing her. The man thought he was helping.
She scrunched up her face into a childish look and shook her head as he approached.
“Here. You dropped this.” He pushed the paper at her, bent in half so the writing was obscured.
“Not mine.” She dragged the words out in a poor imitation of the older man before.
This Briniak gave her an odd look but he understood well enough. “Are you sure? I put up that row of chairs. I didn’t see it before.”
Trina just shook her head again, shrugged and brushed past him, concentrating all her energy on maintaining what should look like a careless skip. She kept her shoulders up with sheer force of will, expecting a hand clamped on them any moment as the man read the text.
Instead, a corridor appeared in front of her. She ducked inside, unsure where she was, but she couldn’t choose her shelter, not with that paper already in Briniak hands.
Once hidden by shadow, she turned, closing her eyes for a moment and praying no one would be in front of her when she looked. She opened them and blinked twice, unsure whether what she saw was an illusion. The man hadn’t followed her. He’d disappeared.
Trina took a deep breath and looked again. People didn’t disappear. She needed to know where he was before she tried to get back into the ducts. She scanned the room, finally seeing him over by the stage they assembled. From the distance, she couldn’t be sure, but the paper seemed to be hanging from an exterior pocket on his pants.
Pickpockets in Sixth City where Briniak held sway must have had an easy time if folks tucked their pouches in those pockets. It took a moment later before she realized what it meant.
If he’d read it, he’d have called together a meeting. She knew the words written there. He wouldn’t keep the information to himself whether or not he understood the implications. She just hoped when he finally read the paper, all memory of the little girl would have faded from his mind.