The Stars We Steal

by Alexa Donne

  Almost everything was in order, including and especially resource management—lights, heating, water, electricity—all still under my master control. But someone had tampered with the kitchen-pantry bio-lock (What?), as well as the cargo hold. I opened the permissions console for the pantry first, typing in a short string of code. Dink-dink, the tab chirped with dissent. Someone far more sophisticated at computer code than I was had locked me out.

  Elliot. The question was why? Were Elliot and the Orlovs really so worried that I might violate their privacy, rifle through their private belongings? The cargo hold I could maybe understand, but surely nothing in the pantry could be so private. Preserved food, powdered milk, coffee. Basic necessities of life.

  I needed to talk to Elliot, just ask him straight why he’d changed the security permissions, and on those rooms in particular. I reminded myself that he’d passed his background check. They all had. The explanation was surely a reasonable one.

  And then there was the matter of the dresses. I was not looking forward to searching the ship for them. I imagined it would involve a lot of sweat and muscle strain.

  I checked the time. People would be stirring by now. I headed back out into the ship, my feet carrying me on instinct to the kitchen. Coffee called me. I quickened my step, practically tasting the blessed sharp bitterness on my tongue already.

  “Oh, good, Leo, you’re up.” Klara appeared from the study, cutting me off in the corridor, steps away from my caffeine hit. “We’re all ready to go over to the Lady Liberty. You should get dressed.” Her eyes scanned my PJs and bare feet with apparent disdain.

  “Isn’t it a bit early?” I asked, craning my neck around her toward the kitchen. I was so close.

  “Elliot woke us all up, said it’s important to make our way over early. I assume he’s keen to get breakfast on board, as am I.”

  “I just need coffee—”

  “There’s no time. The best breakfast spots will already have a line by nine a.m. You can get coffee there.”

  No, I couldn’t, since my plan was to head up to Miranda Fairfax’s office and sit outside until she saw me. There was no arguing with Klara, who walked off shouting to Nora to grab her jacket. Downstairs, I found Carina lacing up her boots. When she saw me, her eyes went wide with horror at my sleep-mussed hair, unwashed face, and slouchy sleep set. She leaped into makeover mode, getting me presentable in ten minutes flat.

  It was another awkward boarding, as it seemed each of us wasn’t speaking to another member of the party. Carina marched along in front to avoid Elliot, I followed close behind to avoid blowing up at said-same boy, Evgenia wasn’t speaking to Klara (“for her deep-end stunt,” she said to me), and Klara didn’t deign to speak to Nora, even on a good day. She was coming along to carry Klara’s bags, as she planned on shopping.

  The Lady Liberty was among the largest and most populous ships in the fleet, housing about two thousand people across six luxury decks. Each level, named for a notable American from the Old World, was circular, like a planet’s rings, rotating around a central lift column. We had docked and come through security on the very bottom level, and we exited the customs sector and moved into the central lift bank.

  “Our friend lives on the Roosevelt Level,” Evgenia said, pressing the lift button. “Elliot and I would like to go see him first thing, but you ladies can go have breakfast, do some shopping while we—”

  “No, I want to meet your friend!” Klara trilled, flashing her widest grin at Elliot. “And the Roosevelt Level . . . how colorful.”

  That was her code for “plebeian,” but she didn’t let her smile drop, even if it became a bit strained.

  “And you mustn’t skip breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day. It’s on me, since Elliot got us dinner last night.”

  “Uh, sure, yes, you’re right,” Elliot said, exchanging a portentous glance with Evgenia. Maybe an apology?

  Klara clapped her hands. “Excellent. We absolutely must go to the Left Coast in the California Ward. Their huevos rancheros are to die for.” The lift dinged, signaling its arrival. Klara breezed in first, snapping at Nora to follow close behind. Then Evgenia went, and Carina.

  “The space in here is tight. You take the next one, Leo,” Klara singsonged, sweet as sugar. Just when I was bemoaning Klara winning another point in our little war, Elliot, who had been stepping over the threshold, hopped back out.

  “I’ll go with her,” he said. Klara’s protest was cut off by the doors promptly closing. I thought I saw Carina jamming her thumb into the close-door button.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said, hitting the call button once their lift had shuttled off. I fought the flutter in my stomach at his choosing to come with me, reminding myself that he’d messed with my ship behind my back. “I was going to take my own lift anyway, to the Gates Level. It’s above Oprah, so now you’ll have to backtrack.”

  “Why are you going to the Gates Level?”

  “To meet with Miranda Fairfax, remember?” The next lift arrived and we stepped inside, drifting to opposite ends of the too-small space, facing off as the lift rose rapidly. My ears became tight with pressure, and I swallowed hard. The Lady Liberty was massive, so even at speed, this would be at least a two-minute trip. Plenty of time.

  “So when I said to let my sister down gently, I didn’t mean in front of everyone,” I said.

  Elliot ducked his head down as spots of color rose on his cheeks. “Is she okay? I didn’t mean to do it that way; it just sort of happened.”

  “You’re lucky my sister is so resilient. She’ll be fine. But I’m still mad at you. About you fiddling with my security protocols, too.” I threw him a loaded look.

  “How—”

  “I was looking for something,” I answered. “If you needed privacy, you could have asked me.”

  “We, uh, weren’t exactly speaking for a while there.” Elliot laughed awkwardly. “Max and Ewan needed to store some valuables, and they felt more comfortable with the bio-locks changed . . .”

  “So, what, you guys have some extra-fancy food in the pantry you don’t want me to steal?”

  “It wasn’t about you stealing,” he said after a moment of consideration. “It’s hard to explain. I made sure it was only those two places, though, and I didn’t think—”

  “I’d find out?”

  Elliot grimaced.

  The explanation was reasonable enough, but he was holding back. I wanted to press him, shout, make him confess whatever it was he was keeping from me, but Elliot and I were still on tenuous ground. We’d been on somewhat friendly speaking terms for, what, forty-eight hours?

  We fell into silence. I felt with my fingers for the bar at my back, to feel myself anchored to the wall. I was suddenly lightheaded. I dared a glance in Elliot’s direction and caught his head jerking ever so slightly away. Had he been watching me?

  Now we were both watching the lift console flash the names of the levels as we passed them—Roosevelt, Bly, Hamilton, Lincoln.

  Elliot took a deep breath. “Leo, listen, I have to tell you—”

  Ding! The lift signaled our arrival, cutting him off midsentence. Elliot stepped out with me, I assumed to finish what he’d been saying. My stomach was twisted into knots. We hovered awkwardly in the lift bank, both looking at the floor.

  “Were you going to say something?” I asked finally, unable to bear it any longer.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, waving me off. “We can talk about it later.”

  “Don’t you need to go back down, then? They’re waiting for you on Oprah.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t really care about breakfast. Hold on.” He tapped his wrist tab several times, brought it to his mouth. “Evy, we’re skipping breakfast. Leo has an errand to run, and I’m gonna keep her company.”

  “What about Ben?” Evgenia’s voice was tinny coming through the wrist-tab speaker.

  “I trust you to take care of it, send me updates. Either way, we’ll do din
ner on the Sofi tonight; invite him over.”

  “Okay.”

  Elliot tapped off his wrist tab and turned back to me. “There, all settled. Let’s head over to the office, shall we?”

  I nodded numbly, too stunned not to follow.

  “What’s Evgenia supposed to take care of with Ben?” I asked as we took a pair of seats in the waiting room of the Fairfax office. Her administrative assistant disappeared back into the inner office, leaving us to wait in the small antechamber.

  “Take care of? Nothing, just saying hi.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I simply shrugged. Then I retrieved my portable tab from my purse and settled in to wait.

  “We’re not going to talk?” Elliot pouted.

  “I had planned on reading,” I responded breezily, teasing him a little.

  “That’s not fair. I didn’t bring anything.”

  “You chose to come,” I reminded him. “But okay, we’ll talk.” I put away the tab. “What were you going to say to me in the lift?”

  Elliot squinted, as if trying to remember. “Oh, just that I really appreciated what you said last night. About Freiheit, and how the Scandinavian should do the right thing. It really is getting bad out there. I’ve seen a lot of things that can’t be unseen. If you hadn’t said something, I might have knocked Klara off her noodle, just to mess with her. But you put her in her place.”

  “And then she promptly put me back in mine,” I said. “I’m a useless dreamer, not fit for politics.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Elliot responded earnestly. “It wasn’t true about your mom, either. I think she would have run if she could, and won. The Scandinavian under her captainship would be a very different ship. And you could still challenge your aunt, if you wanted. I’d help you.”

  “I’m overwhelmed enough as it is, running my own tiny ship,” I deflected.

  “I think you’ve done a great job. I see your handiwork all over it. Generators, energy-saving switches, and the water system. You’re practical and self-sacrificing. You were smart enough to bring on the Orlovs as renters, and you have this plan to get the license and patent. You’re a born leader. I mean, it’s why you, uh, couldn’t come with me. You had to stay, be responsible.”

  It was both flattering and devastating to have Elliot throw the reasons for my rejection back at me as a compliment. I shrugged.

  “Thanks, El, but I really don’t want to go into politics. You know me well enough to know that, surely?”

  “I can tell you meant what you said last night. You want to help.”

  “I’m just a uselessly titled princess with no way to do anything. I’m nobody.”

  “You’re not nobody, Leo.” Elliot’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

  I had no response to that, so I gave none. I couldn’t even bear to look at him, afraid of what I might find if I did. Perfect neutral or burning passion—either possibility washed cold fear straight through me.

  I was relieved when we fell into perfectly pleasant silence and were able to pass the next few hours without any hard-hitting conversation. As we moved into hour three of waiting, Elliot’s wrist tab beeped.

  “It’s from Evy,” he said, a frown overtaking his face.

  “Bad news?”

  “What? No, it’s fine. I was just hoping Ben would have something for me, but he doesn’t. Evy says they’re heading back to Oprah so Klara can get in her shopping, then Ben is coming over tonight for dinner. I think you’ll like him.”

  “Who is he? You keep saying ‘old friend.’ How do you know each other?”

  “I stayed with his family for a while, after I’d left the Sofi. The Lady Liberty was my first stop as part of a work-rotation program. After that, I moved to the Saint Petersburg.”

  “Oh,” I said. There wasn’t much else to say. This was part of Elliot’s post-Leo life. It didn’t belong to me.

  We waited another hour. Miranda Fairfax, it turned out, had either the worst administrative assistant in the fleet or the best. He informed us eventually that she wasn’t even on board. Was he lying or just incompetent? I couldn’t tell. If she was here, he’d done a bang-up job protecting her from me.

  “I feel bad that you wasted all this time with me for nothing,” I said to Elliot as we headed back to the lift bank.

  “It wasn’t a waste,” he said, once again teetering on the edge of innuendo. Was he being kind or flirting? “I’m sure they’re done shopping by now, so we can head back to the Sofi.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I desperately needed a nap. We walked back toward the lift bank as I tried not to be swallowed up by despair. There was no way we could stay the whole week, waiting for Miranda’s return, and I didn’t think I could finagle a trip to the Olympus to catch her there. I chewed on self-misery the whole lift ride.

  “Leo, it’ll be okay,” Elliot said as we exited. “I was thinking. You can pitch Ben, tonight at dinner. He works in sanitation. Not at the very top, but high enough that he sees Miranda Fairfax every once in a while. Maybe he could help?”

  “Thanks, El.” I offered him a half-smile. “I’m kind of on the clock, though. The Valg ends in less than three weeks. Either this works out, or I get hitched.”

  “Enter Mr. Ninety-Three Percent.”

  “It’s not funny,” I snapped.

  “No, I guess it isn’t.”

  I wanted to apologize, but prodding further would prompt a frank conversation about Elliot, me, and the Valg that I wasn’t ready to have. We didn’t speak the rest of the way back.

  Eighteen

  “What are you wearing?” From Carina’s tone, you would have thought I was decked out in a dirty potato sack. I checked myself, finding the same simple tea dress I’d had on all day. It had even survived my nap.

  “Clothes?” I replied.

  “Leo.” Carina’s tone was chiding. She jumped up from the vanity and crossed the room over to where I stood by the door. “Klara has been getting ready for three hours. You need to bring your A-game.” She fussed with my hair, then brushed an imaginary speck of dirt from my shoulder.

  “For what?” I was purposely obtuse, just to get a rise out of her.

  “LEO!”

  “Calm down; I’m only kidding.” I made my way over to my suitcase to retrieve a special dress I’d been saving for just such a night as this. “But I’m going to wear it because I want to, not to engage in some bizarre competition with Klara for Elliot’s affection, for the record.”

  I pulled out the dress to show her, and my sister’s eyebrows rose with approval. It was sleeveless and black, with a stiff bodice that streamlined into a full but sleek skirt, black chiffon transitioning into magenta, ultraviolet, and apricot streaks of color before fading into the palest off-white at the bottom of the skirt. It was the darkest point of night blooming into a brilliant sunrise, in dress form.

  “Why have I not seen that before?”

  “I was saving it for the Valg Ball,” I said.

  “So you do care!”

  I groaned. “Only a little. Anyway, Father reminded me about Mom’s dresses. He wants us to wear them instead. Did you take them out of storage to air them out?”

  “Me? No. Why?”

  “It’s nothing.” I didn’t want to pull her into my mounting alarm. I’d checked everywhere this afternoon and hadn’t found them. Pasting on a smile, I surveyed Carina’s outfit and shifted the subject. “And talking of new dresses.” She was in a champagne-and-silver silk-brocade tea dress, not only a muted color palette for her, but a more mature style. I cocked an eyebrow, aiming a wordless question.

  “Evgenia lent it to me,” she clarified, explaining everything.

  “You look beautiful,” I said, liking the new look on her. She typically erred on the side of bright blues, purples, and pinks, favoring tiered chiffon and the aptly titled princess-dress style. “Are you dressed up for any particular reason? Not that you need an excuse.”

  Carina ducked her chin do
wn to hide a blush. “So it turns out Ben is really cute, and super nice.”

  I swatted her on the arm. “Carina!”

  “What? You wanted me to move on!”

  She had me there. But still. Were all sixteen-year-olds this changeable? I hadn’t been. And there I went, reminding myself of Elliot again.

  “I don’t know what to do with my hair.”

  “I do,” I said, grabbing a few supplies from my bag and pulling her over to my bed. I scooted back against the wall, spreading my legs and patting the space between them. We transformed into younger versions of ourselves, her sitting cross-legged in front of me, my patient and more dexterous fingers weaving patterns into her thick hair. But instead of a single braid falling down the center of her back, I wove two on either side, twisting them up into a makeshift crown. Finally, I pinned everything to her head with our mother’s diamond-and-ruby flower pins. Carina touched tentative fingers to her hair.

  “Are these . . .” She let the question hang.

  “You’re old enough now that I should share them with you,” I said. “Just don’t get drunk and lose them.”

  “You’re going to let me drink, too? Like, actually drink?”

  “Everything in moderation.”

  We scooted off the bed, and while Carina put the finishing touches on her makeup, I poured myself into my most robust bustier and stepped into my dress. Carina helped me fasten it in the back and held my hand so I could step into a pair of wildly impractical heels.

  Evgenia pinged us via the wall tab, letting us know that Ben had arrived and dinner was nearly ready. We would start with drinks in the study. I didn’t miss how my sister lit up at the mention of Ben’s name.