The seconds ticked by, and when it was clear the emergency sirens weren’t going to come on—that this was just another power outage—low conversation started up again.
The lights came back on then, and Tadeo released a breath. Just a power outage. One of many in recent weeks.
“Nicolas!” a female voice shouted. Tadeo took an alarmed step toward the board members’ tables at the sudden flurry of activity and loud voices. Farida and Jon Lau appeared in the small crowd, helping Nic Gonzalez up from the floor. The wide man wavered on his feet and slurred something to them. The drunk had passed out in the darkness.
“Dumb kak,” Omar said.
Tadeo shook his head and turned back to the buffet. He heaped a plate high with food, filled his cup from the water tank, and took a seat at the table where members of the president’s guard sat.
“I owe you one for getting me up here,” Omar said. “I was gettin’ real tired of the food down in guard galley.”
It was good food. Today they had quin flatbread, carsotts, greens, and tiny square slices of soyad. Only command level got to eat like this. The lower levels mostly ate quin and greens, which was what he and Omar had both been eating before their promotions.
A stocky blond guard, Penta Kiva, walked up with her food and slid into a chair beside Omar. She was the Oslo transfer Omar had vouched for when McGill needed to be replaced.
“Lieutenant Raines,” she said, inclining her head respectfully.
“Sergeant.” Tadeo stabbed a chunk of soyad with his fork and shoved it into his mouth. The mealy fermented protein fell apart on his tongue, belying its age. Soyad was best eaten fresh—it did not age well in the weeks after it left the Meso.
Kiva gave Omar a sidelong glance. “Did you hear what happened?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
“Hey to you, too,” Omar said. “What’d you hear?”
“A pregnant tech airlocked herself during night shift.”
The saliva dried up in Tadeo’s mouth.
“Whoa, what?” Omar asked. “Gotta be the first airlocker on this ship in what, over a year?”
“Nineteen months,” Tadeo said. Kiva and Omar both looked at him with surprise, but he kept his face expressionless.
“No one knows why she did it.” Kiva continued. “But I bet her pregnancy was defective.”
“That’s not the only reason,” a female voice said.
Tadeo looked up to find Tesmee standing next to their table, plate in one hand, cup in the other. She was staring at Tadeo intently, her eyes bright.
“Oh yeah? What else is there?” Omar asked, leaning toward her. But she didn’t take her eyes off Tadeo.
“The airlocker was supposed to abort this morning,” Tesmee said. “And she found out her husband died on Soren hours before she did it.”
Tadeo’s gut twisted like he’d eaten rot-tainted quin. He sniffed and took a sip of water. Tesmee had probably nagged Nyssa until she’d shared the same spare details about Era that the rest of the ship would know by last mess.
“How’d you find that out?” Omar said.
Tesmee gave Tadeo a small smile. “You know. I have my ways.”
“Ways,” Tadeo echoed.
“Yeah, Tadeo,” Omar said. “Girl’s got her ways.”
Tadeo stared Tesmee down, his expression flat, until she swallowed and averted her eyes.
“I need to eat,” she said. “Food’s getting cold.” She whirled and hurried over to her mother’s table to sit. Tadeo watched her go. She’d seen him last night with Nyssa—where he never should have been during night shift. Omar looked from Tadeo to Tesmee and back.
“You’re an idiot.” Omar said, rolling his eyes.
Kiva’s eyes widened, and she froze, her fork hovering above her plate. Everyone at the table had stopped eating and was watching them now.
“Watch yourself, Sergeant.” Tadeo shot him the same flat look he’d given Tesmee. He needed to have a talk with Omar about how to address him in front of others now that they were both up here.
“That girl… she’d do—”
“Do what?” Tadeo asked, his voice a warning Omar didn’t receive.
“Do you. Man, if she looked at me like that…” Omar noticed everyone staring and finally got the hint. He dropped his gaze. “Uh—what I mean to say, sir, is…”
Tadeo released his tight grip on his fork, revealing the deep mark it had left in his palm. He shook his head and went back to eating. Everyone else around the table took that as a cue to start eating again, the moment of tension over.
Kiva snorted, and Omar shot her a glare.
She raised one brow and rolled her eyes. “She’s not even sixteen yet,” she said quietly, clearly trying to escape Tadeo’s notice. “Doesn’t even have her implant.”
“And your point?” Omar asked.
“What is wrong with you?” Kiva asked.
“Must be something in the water,” Omar said. “After that last shipment from the Oslo, man, has it been tasting bad.”
“Yeah, right,” Kiva said. “More like it’s these suits, cutting off circulation to your brain. Couldn’t your guys on the Vancouver make them fit a little better? I bet they’ve been cutting corners. Probably bribing someone in qual scans.”
“Gimme a break,” Omar said. “The Oslo has one job. One job! And you can’t even clean the kak out of the water. You’d stab yourselves to death before you figured out how to thread a needle and make a suit.”
“These zippers. Utter junk,” Kiva said. “In zero G, kak would just fly out of my pockets.”
“Don’t blame us for that.” Omar shoved more food in his mouth and talked around it. “Blame plastics. The Dubai’s been failing qual scans for years.”
Kiva scoffed. “They have not.”
“They have so. Ask anyone in tech. I know people from the Kyoto.”
“You’re so full of it,” Kiva said, her voice rising. “You wanna settle this with a game of chips?”
“You’re terrible. Why would I even bother playing with you again?”
“If I win, you give me your holovid credits for the month.”
“Why would I agree to that?”
“’Cause you’re cocky and think you can beat me.”
“Fine,” Omar said. “I’ll play you. And you can sit in the lounge and stare at the wall while I use all your credits up.”
Tadeo stabbed at his soyad, scraping his fork loudly across the metal plate, and Omar and Kiva fell silent. Omar might lust after the president’s daughter, but clearly he and Kiva were a pair made for Infinity.
Was I like Omar and Kiva—so cavalier about things before the hull breach happened? Or maybe everything had changed since last night. Since he’d airlocked Era and realized one of their own guards had been a traitor.
Chief Petroff showed up then, plate and cup in hand, and sat down a few seats from Tadeo. Talk faded at his arrival. The old man didn’t bother to greet any of them, but when he saw Tadeo, his eyes went hard.
“Chief,” Kiva asked. “Do you know what that power outage was about?”
The guards stilled, waiting to see if Chief would answer or snap Kiva’s head off for talking to him before he’d had his morning mess.
Chief took a bite of food and chewed it slowly. “Same old power core issues as last time. Generator’s beat to kak down there. The subs on this ship don’t know how to keep anything running.”
Tadeo pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. Treason-talking subs. Terrorists in the guard. The ships—old and falling apart. Any threats to the fleet needed to be removed. They had enough to worry about.
Tadeo studied the faces around the table. Were there more traitors here—right now? The chief was from the Perth, the mining ship, and his old deka loyalties showed through in the people he promoted. Half the command level guards had been born to specialist parents on the Perth. They had the highest death rate of any deka, so everyone who was born there was desperate to get off the ship. It was dangerous work—
mining meteors, fixing the equipment, dealing with explosives. Had McGill been from the Perth, too?
His gaze went to Omar. He was the only one Tadeo could trust to help him with his investigation.
He stood up and pushed his chair in. Omar looked up questioningly, but Tadeo ignored him and headed over to the corner of the room, toward the hydropods, to wait. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. The scent of the greens wafted over to him, clearing his head.
Petroff finished his food fast and headed out the door. He gave Tadeo another hard look as he passed. “Better get moving, Raines.”
Tadeo nodded and gestured to Omar. He frowned and came over to lean against the wall.
“So what’s the mission today?” he asked. “Kiva and I placed bets. She thinks we’ll get to stand watch while they try to fix the power core.”
“I don’t ever stand watch in the power core.”
“Oh, right,” Omar said. “Gotta protect the heir.”
“Sergeant Omar,” Tadeo said.
Omar stood straighter on reflex.
“Watch how you address me in front of the rest of the guard,” Tadeo said.
His eyes widened. “Okay, man. I mean—Lieutenant.”
“We’re not on patrol or watch today. You and I have a different mission. Let’s go check out some holo gear.”
“We’re conducting an investigation?” Omar asked.
“Everything about this is need-to-know only,” Tadeo said, his voice low. “And you don’t need to know yet.”
Zephyr woke to laughter and light. It clashed with the sleep-soaked visions still floating through her mind. Blood. Soren. Era. Grimp.
The Legacy Code. A genetic modification for superimmunity… yet it created broken children—too defective to survive. She shielded her eyes against the light making its way through the crack of her bunk’s metal privacy panel. She slept in a top bunk, and the lume bar streamed right through.
Dritan was dead.
The memory of it all slammed into her chest, knocking her breath away. She dropped her head back onto her thin pillow. The girls below continued to laugh, and Zephyr swallowed past the lump in her throat. She grabbed her eyepiece from the shelf inside her bunk and slipped it on. A twist of her wrist activated the small black box connected to it, and the 3D holographic interface appeared. Morning mess was almost over. Kak.
Era’s grief had been all-consuming last night. She’d been hysterical, ranting about the Defect, saying she wouldn’t go through with her abortion… Oh, no. Era was scheduled to terminate her pregnancy first shift. Zephyr had to get to her.
She slid open the privacy panel and jumped down. The girls below fell silent as she locked her bunk. There were six halfs to a cubic, and one of her bunkmates, a blonde named Kali, sat below, next to Helice… and Paige, who thank Infinitek, lived in a different cubic. Paige had the look of a sweet girl, someone you could trust, all big eyes and bow lips. And Zephyr had trusted her once, until Paige showed her who she really was.
Zephyr kept her face blank as she pulled her suit and boots from her locker and changed. She pocketed her holo gear, then dragged a comb through her long reddish-blond hair, trying to hurry, yet dreading Era’s grief—not sure how she could help ease it.
“Dumb glitch,” Paige said.
Zephyr went rigid and raised her eyes.
All three tried to pretend they hadn’t just been staring at her, but Helice lifted a hand to her mouth to hide a smile.
Rage lit up Zephyr’s chest, and she suppressed it like she always did. They were immature, stuck in caretaker sector mentality—hateful and jealous that Zephyr would captain the London someday, and they’d just be stuck here doing boring jobs for the rest of their lives. Better to act above them than engage them. That pissed them off even more. Era was all that mattered right now.
Zephyr gave Paige a condescending smirk, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and left the cubic. When she’d escaped the bunk to the busy corridor beyond, she took deep breaths, holding her head high as she pushed past the milling halfs of singles sector. A group of boys stared at her as she went by, and two of them purposely stepped in her path, nasty expressions on their faces. She pushed past without acknowledging their presence.
Space them all.
She walked quickly through the corridors to the main stairwell and headed down to paired couples sector, weaving her way through the throngs of colonists heading up to mess. The scent of boiled quin wafted down from the galley, turning her stomach.
Most of the colonists she passed were dressed in the green suits of sublevel workers or the black of techs, like Zephyr. A few in light blue suits pushed by—medics. Hopefully Era was still in her cubic and hadn’t gone to medlevel alone. People chattered around her, all talking about the same thing.
“An airlocker.”
“Down on the sublevels.”
Airlocker? A suicide on the ship. And she’d thought security was tighter here. Zephyr pushed the thought from her mind and quickened her pace. As she reached level one, the knots in her stomach rivaled those found in the kak wire shipments the London used to get from the Kyoto.
This was going to be difficult. After Era’s father died, Era had checked out for weeks, listless, crying constantly. Zephyr had tried to comfort her, but Era started going down to the sublevels, and she’d stayed there all day. She’d brought Zephyr down once to show her why.
Dritan had been so dirty, smelling of the metalworks and sweat, but as soon as Zephyr had seen the way Era looked at him, and the way he protectively cradled her against his chest, she knew Era had found the other half of her infinity.
Now he was dead. And Era and Dritan’s unborn child had the Defect. She’d get Era to take more of the grimp. Not enough to get addicted… just enough to numb the pain for the next few days… or weeks.
When Zephyr reached their cubic, she pulled Era’s shift card from her pocket, where she’d left it the night before. It was against regulation to have someone else’s card, but no one was paying attention to her as she scanned it. The door opened, revealing Era’s helio in the darkness. Relief flooded Zephyr, and she stepped inside quickly. The door slid closed behind her.
“Era? Are you…?”
Then she saw who was in the room. Two guards. No Era. The one closest turned toward her, and the helio illuminated his face—his bronze skin, high cheekbones, and the too-long black hair she’d often imagined running her fingers through. “Where’s Era? Why are you—”
“Zephyr?” His brows went up, and he took a hesitant step toward her. “How did you get in here?”
The other guard, a dark-skinned man, stepped into their light. He said nothing, just looked from Tadeo to her, and a note of dread rose in her mind, poisoning her earlier relief.
“Where’s Era? Where is she?” her voice came out strained.
“Omar, get out,” Tadeo said, his voice hard.
“Yes, sir.”
Omar gave Zephyr a blank look, then pushed past to exit the cubic.
“Where is Era?” Zephyr repeated. “Is she in trouble?”
Tadeo took a step closer so he towered above her, and Zephyr stumbled back into the wall panel. His face was expressionless, but his brown eyes intense. The yellow glow of the helio made the scene feel wrong, dangerous—like they were trapped together in the depths of the sublevels and not in a paired couples cubic.
“How did you get in here?” Tadeo asked, his voice deep.
“I…”
He noticed the shift card in her hand and lifted it gently, cradling it. Zephyr’s skin ignited from the touch, magnetized like the helio floating beside them. They stayed like that for a moment, her hand in his, neither of them taking a breath.
His face darkened. He plucked the card from her grasp and flipped it over, working his jaw as he read Era’s name.
“It’s against regulation for you to have this.”
Zephyr swallowed and dropped her hand to her side, still warm from his touch. “Era drop
ped it last night. Give it back. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“She doesn’t need it anymore,” he said quietly.
Zephyr’s heart beat harder. “Why not?”
“You should leave now.” Tadeo averted his eyes, staring at some point beyond Zephyr.
She darted out a hand and rested it on Tadeo’s chest, trying to make him look at her. He flinched and grabbed her hand, but didn’t push her away.
Instead he met her gaze. “We’re conducting an investigation. You can’t be here.”
“Why? Into what?” Zephyr asked, her voice strong.
His hand tightened around hers. “Era…”
“What? Tell me.”
“She airlocked herself during night shift.”
Zephyr’s breath caught, and she wrenched her hand away from him as if she’d been burned.
“Era committed suicide,” Tadeo continued, his voice cold now. He stepped back. “She’s dead.”
Zephyr let out a little moan and covered her mouth as she fell against the wall panel behind her. She searched Tadeo’s face, but it blurred before her. “No. She would never do that—”
“You need to go back to your cubic.”
“No,” Zephyr said, her voice cracking. “No. She wouldn’t do that. Where is she?”
“She did. She’s gone, Zephyr.”
“How do you even know it was her? It’s not—”
“She used her husband’s shift card,” Tadeo said, his voice flat, his expression unreadable. “She accessed a maintenance airlock and committed suicide.”
“You’re lying! Is this… is this a sick joke?” Zephyr’s throat closed, and she pushed past Tadeo, searching Era’s bunk. Empty. No boots. No suit. Her gaze landed on a scrap of pale green cloth on the shelf—exec standard bedding. Zephyr grabbed it and held it to her chest, wavering on her feet. No. This felt like a trick, like she was watching a holovid. She had to still be asleep in her bunk.
“It’s true.” Tadeo’s voice sounded like it came to her from the end of a long corridor. “And you need to leave now.”
Paragon Page 4
