Penumbra

by Dan Ackerman

  That or some big primates had evolved and started tribes, which didn’t evolutionarily make sense.

  Had to be humans.

  Fucking humans, grasping on to whatever scraps they could get.

  He wondered if they would outlast the ruination of the planet. Eden had to survive several more centuries until Terra One could sustain large scale human life again. He tried to do some math in his head, wondering if Eden would make it. It could go either way: not enough people or too many.

  Fewer people than anticipated had come aboard, even including the indentured. Bex had thought they would need methods of population control, but even five generations later, they had plenty of room to grow.

  Two generations in a horrible sickness had seriously damaged the population. Many people who got it had died and some survivors had ended up sterile.

  Maybe if that hadn’t happened, Eden would be in better shape.

  Or maybe it would be worse, overcrowded and famished.

  No use in worrying about that now.

  Sometimes Arden marveled at the sheer size of the station. Keeping the unused parts in working order ate up more time and resources than they could spare, but he worried what would happen if part of the station fell into disrepair.

  “You look deep in thought.”

  Arden flinched and spun around.

  “Sorry, sugar, didn’t mean to scare you,” Oggie said. “You didn’t come by to say hi tonight, so I thought I’d come see you.”

  “Is it that kind of affair?”

  “You’re obsessed with me.”

  “Come sit.”

  “On the floor.”

  “You’re a fucking thrall, Oggie.”

  “You’re a terrible beast to me!” Oggie declared. He came to sit next to Arden anyway. “Do you want to spit in my mouth?”

  “Do…do you want me to?”

  “Mmmm, maybe when we get to know each other a little better. Dear Morris wishes me to gain your trust before he gives me any brainwashing to do.”

  “Huh.”

  “What should I tell him?”

  “Tell him I’m too empty to trust anyone right now.”

  Oggie placed his hand on Arden’s thigh. “The kind of empty that hurts?”

  “Emptier.”

  Oggie nodded. “Do you want to talk about it? I can make you a drink.”

  The idea tempted him. “Maybe not.”

  “Hope for you yet, sugar.”

  “Did you plan on staying?”

  “Just as long as it would take for you to pretend to fuck me.”

  Arden thought about it. “A few games of knuckles.”

  Oggie smirked. “You really don’t go for foreplay!”

  Arden clucked his tongue. “Shut up. Do you want to play or not?”

  “By all means.”

  Oggie stayed for three games of knuckles, just so they could break the tie. As he left, he asked, “Should I come back tomorrow night?”

  “I’m not insatiable.”

  “Night after?”

  Arden nodded, then corrected, “No! I, uh. I have plans. After that.”

  “Alright, sugar, see you soon. You could drop by the bar and say hi.”

  Arden already knew he would.

  Mara scowled at him when he stopped by and told him, “He won’t shut up about fucking you.”

  “Only good things, I hope.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’re a stud, Your Eminence,” she spat.

  He felt kind of bad for lying to her, but a secret didn’t stay kept when too many people knew it. “I’ll take good care of him.”

  “Like you did the last one?”

  “He left me.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, and you threw him out naked in the hallway.”

  He couldn’t meet her eyes.

  “Don’t fuck him up any worse, he’s already spare parts.” Her eyes burned, pale and terrifying.

  “I’m starting to think both of you are,” he murmured. He took his drink and went to sit with Zira and Cathie.

  “Holding up okay?” Cathie asked when she hugged him hello.

  He let himself melt into her embrace momentarily. “All’s well.”

  “And how’s Eden?” Zira asked when he sat.

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re making all these changes…”

  “Oh. Things are going well.”

  “Any chance you’ll let some of the shops open up?”

  Arden tried not to grimace.

  “I don’t know, I think it’s been sort of fun,” Cathie said. “Makes me more creative with how I put outfits together.”

  Zira sighed. “I don’t have an eye for that stuff like you do, Cath.”

  “I’ll come over!” Cathie enthused.

  Zira brightened a little. “I’ll need to look good to find someone new.”

  “On the prowl already?” Cathie asked.

  “I guess. It’s lonely without Alexander…” Her usual sourness and boredom faded from her face, replaced with an open sadness.

  Cathie took her hand. “I understand.”

  Arden understood, too, but took a drink instead of chiming in. He couldn’t whine about being lonely if he wanted this affair with Oggie to seem real.

  He steered the conversation toward their respective favorite family members. The two of them fell into a conversation about the stupid shit children got up to, fed from Zira’s current experience and Cathie’s recollections of her sister’s childhood.

  Arden couldn’t think of anything to add.

  He called it an early night and went home to read reports.

  A few nights later, Oggie stopped by to tell Arden his uncle had suggested a few ways for Oggie to earn the Autarch’s trust.

  “He says you overuse formulas.”

  “I certainly used to,” Arden agreed. “The tendency still shows its face from time to time.”

  “He thinks I can get you using Twelve again. That it will make you more suggestible.”

  “It likely would.”

  “What do you say, do you want a shot?”

  “No. But you can tell him I took one.” Arden stretched across the couch, close to Oggie but not touching. He looked up at him. “Do you think you’d stay the night?”

  Oggie watched him, a glimmer of mistrust in his eyes. “Maybe if you really wore me out.”

  “What if we stayed up late playing board games and I made up the couch for you?”

  Oggie raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly torrid.”

  “Tell people whatever you want. I’m asking if you want to—”

  “Hang out? Are we friends, now, sugar?”

  “I hope so.”

  Oggie smiled. He smoothed a piece of hair away from Arden’s brow. He had thin fingers; he was thin all over, not scrawny and forced like Arden’s body, but a natural, willowy elegance. He was a beautiful young man. Not handsome like the Baker brothers or Rhys, but artistically ideal. Arden’s mother would have called it ‘good breeding’ if she hadn’t known his father was a thrall.

  “I’ll stay. Do you have a deck of cards?”

  “At least six. Check behind the bar.”

  They stayed up late playing cards, laughing and flirting harmlessly. Arden made up the couch for him and tried not to think about the time he’d done it for Rhys.

  He fluffed the last pillow. “Your sister will be pissed.”

  “Mara’s always pissed.”

  “Does she hate me?”

  “Not more than she hates most people.” Oggie started sliding out of his clothes. He glanced at Arden as if checking his level of interest.

  Arden wanted to touch him. He wanted to know if he felt as soft as he looked. He didn’t think he wanted anything more than that.

  “What about you?” Arden asked.

  “She might hate me, too.”

  “No, I meant, do you hate me?”

  “No.” Oggie smiled. “No, I think I might actually like you.” He pronounced it softly and with a degree
of reverence like he’d discovered something unexpectedly nice.

  That made Arden smile, too. He said, “Sleep tight.”

  “Good night, sugar.”

  The next time Oggie stayed over, Arden had cleaned up the guest bedroom, gotten sheets for the bed and added a few homey touches like decorations and toiletries for the bathroom. He showed it to Oggie.

  Oggie looked around, ran his hands over the soft bedspread, sniffed the soap, and glanced at the pajamas in the drawers. He held up one pair against himself to check the size. He looked at Arden.

  “I figured you were about my size…” Arden shrugged. He nodded towards the bed. “It’s more comfortable than the couch, at any rate.”

  “Couch is more comfortable than my bed.”

  “I bet.”

  Oggie sprawled on the bed. He watched Arden for a reaction. He’d stretched himself out deliciously.

  “Are you trying to get me to fuck you?” Arden asked.

  Oggie sat up. “It’s what people end up wanting.”

  Arden sat beside him on the bed. He ran his fingers over the embroidery on the covers. “People like me,” he murmured.

  “All kinds of people. Not just peers. You get used to it. People chasing you whether you want them to or not. Cheapest way to have fun in the Quarters and I look like a lot of fun, don’t I?”

  “Have people hurt you, Oggie?” He had no business asking, but he felt like he could say anything to Oggie. They talked all the time and about everything.

  “Not yet. A few close calls.”

  Arden licked his lips.

  “I’m just waiting for you to make your move. Or, I don’t know. Trying to get you to make one so I finally know where I stand with you.”

  “You could ask.”

  “Most people lie.”

  Arden nodded. “You’re good-looking, Oggie, but you knew that already. And you’re fun and sort of awful, and I like you.”

  “Weird come-on.”

  Arden scoffed at him. “Shut up, Oggie. I’m trying to tell you that I’d be blind if I didn’t think you were attractive—”

  “A couple of blind people have told me I smell incredibly nice.”

  “But I don’t want to have sex with you.”

  “Not even a little?”

  “Well. I mean. Yes, in a physical sense but not, uh. I just. Last time I had an affair, it kind of went different than I thought it would,” Arden admitted. “I don’t want that again.”

  “What did happen with you two? People have come up with about a thousand reasons you’d kick him out like that.”

  “He ended things.”

  “That’s all? I heard he was sleeping with someone else.”

  “No, he just ended things.”

  Oggie lay back down. He placed his head on Arden’s leg. “The balls that must have taken. Why?”

  “I…” Arden swallowed. “Cause I asked him to come meet my uncle.”

  “Morris?”

  “No, ew, no. My Uncle Winnie. He was, uh, my mama’s brother. He’s the only family I have.”

  Oggie made a sympathetic coo. “Poor thing. And he, what? Really didn’t want to meet your family?”

  “I don’t know. I guess he just didn’t love me.”

  Sounding surprised, Oggie asked, “Did you love him?”

  Arden nodded. “I never got to tell him. He didn’t want me to.”

  Oggie smiled up at him. He seemed to like that it hurt Arden. “The one thing you can’t make people give you. Everything on all of Eden and you couldn’t make him love you.”

  Arden’s throat tightened.

  Oggie sat up. He put his arms around Arden, his chin on Arden’s shoulder. “What’s it feel like?”

  “It hurts.”

  “Where?”

  “Inside. Like I can’t breathe, like there’s something in my throat. Like soap in my eyes. Like I’m going to throw up.”

  Oggie pulled in a slow breath. “Like you’ll never go home again,” he murmured so quietly Arden didn’t think he’d meant to say it aloud. He pulled back and kissed Arden’s cheek.

  They gazed at each other.

  “Do you want to play jumble?” Arden asked.

  “I always win.”

  Arden grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

  Oggie’s eyes twinkled.

  Oggie gave him a run for his money, the toughest dozen rounds of jumble he’d played since Mother had lost the capacity to play.

  She hadn’t held him on her lap or smothered him in kisses, but she’d taught him how to play jumble, and read to him every night, and taken him for long walks on the Solar Deck. She’d kept an eye on his handball career, weak as it had been, even though she’d have preferred that he played lacrosse.

  He wondered if Oggie’s mother had taught him to play jumble. It was popular in peer ladies’ clubs.

  He knew better than to ask.

  They eventually called it quits, since they both had places to be in the morning. Oggie made himself at home in the guestroom.

  It took a few weeks for things to become routine, but just like that, Oggie became part of his life. A few nights a week, he came over for board games and stayed the night. He relayed everything Morris wanted him to do and Arden sent back pieces of information.

  Arden would peruse the shops at least once a week and pick out some trinket, a bit of jewelry or luxe beauty product. Nothing too expensive, their affair wasn’t that serious yet, they’d decided.

  He liked the way Oggie cooed over things. He’d always say something like, “You really do spoil me, sugar,” and kiss Arden’s cheek.

  Arden made sure not to let it go any further than that. Kisses on the cheek, or hugs, or sometimes a bit of cuddling, but he knew if it went any further, it would hurt Oggie somehow. Someone had treated him badly, or maybe a lot of people had. He didn’t want to be one of them.

  When his friends asked him about it, he’d shrug and say, “It’s something to do, isn’t it? Better than moping.”

  They would murmur insincere agreements, which he thought was kind of judgmental of them.

  A tour of Maintenance Six put Arden in a mood. Not angry or upset but puzzled. He wanted someone to talk with, someone who’d have a keener idea of what to do about the unused parts of Eden.

  If they could do less work there, then they could take better care of the inhabited parts of the ship, dedicate more workers to farming, engineering, and maybe even reopen a few shops, just to placate the peers.

  He knew Rhys would have an idea.

  He’d overacted.

  He always did. Spoiled.

  It was a stupid idea, but he did it anyway.

  He took the stairs to Quarter Two.

  As he walked, he started to get indignant, thinking that Rhys still happily collected his Chamberlain’s salary without putting in a day of work.

  It was petty, not showing up for work just because he’d chosen to break things off with Arden.

  People shot him funny looks as he walked through the Quarter, weaving around people in the common areas and dodging rambunctious children.

  Everyone seemed to be outside their rooms, gathered together in groups, chatting or doing chores.

  He checked the numbers on the apartments, growing closer to Rhys’s registered address. As he moved deeper into the Quarter, he spied fewer children, almost none, and more people started to give him openly hostile stares.

  Turning back might prove a wiser course.

  He walked a little further, his stomach starting to prickle with fear.

  No one would do anything to him.

  A baby gurgled.

  The sound instinctively drew his attention. His head swiveled towards it.

  An umber-skinned woman about thirty years of age held the baby. Not newborn, but less than a year old.

  What a tiny creature.

  Arden couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a baby. Most peers left theirs with nannies until they were large enough to effectively d
ress up and show off. He lost his train of thought when the woman passed the baby to the man who came out of the apartment.

  She ducked inside.

  He saw the number on the door. The same as Rhys’s.

  And, of course, there was Rhys holding the baby.

  Arden just stood there, watching. Staring at Rhys, holding that baby with a stupid smile on his face.

  Fuck.

  Did people smile like that at babies that weren’t theirs?

  Arden turned and pushed through the people behind him. He walked as fast as he could out of the Quarters and back to his room, nearly breaking into a run once or twice. He worried that if he didn’t get home fast enough, he’d collapse. His legs felt heavy and floppy all at once.

  He shoved into someone in a crowded part of the hall.

  “Oh, Arden!” she said. “You okay?”

  He had to focus to remember her name. One of the players on his handball team.

  “Sick,” he mumbled.

  “Not coming to practice?”

  How did these idiots have practice so often! “No.”

  “We’ll miss you.”

  He grunted and kept walking.

  Slower now. The initial panic had oozed out of him, leaving him numb and feeling sort of slimy.

  He curled up on the couch with his tablet. He found Rhys’s page. It detailed things like his birthday, blood type, medical conditions, and so on. He dug a little deeper to find his relatives; that page contained direct connections only, parents and children, a way to trace where his debt had come from and would go.

  There were his parents, and here was a new entry, not there the last time Arden had looked through Rhys’s information to find his birthday.

  A baby girl.

  Born before Rhys had broken up with him and, a bit of math revealed, conceived before they had started their affair.

  He checked the child’s other parent.

  The other person whose debt he’d cleared, at Rhys’s request.

  The few pieces that existed settled into place.

  The only child in the Quarters born without debt in the history of Eden.

  The whole time, Rhys had been with someone else, a relationship serious enough to produce a child. Hardly anyone did that by accident anymore.

  Arden felt sick at just how thoroughly Rhys had used him. The whole thing had been a way to clear his family’s debt and get a cushy job.