Le Cirque Navire

by Chele Cooke

  “I need you to go into the city,” Cole announced when Malak remained silent. “The soldier you warned me about still bothers me. I need you to bring him here so that we might persuade him.”

  “Me?” Malak breathed. “But…”

  “Malak, you are my dearest and most trusted friend. I asked young Mr. Western to take care of the issue for me and on top of failing in that regard, I believe he may actually have gone so far as to help the soldier evade us.”

  “Jack wouldn’t help the Coalition.” Malak tried to sound upbeat but his grimace didn’t quite make it into a smile.

  “I would have thought the same but it seems another element is in play.”

  “And that is?”

  “The soldier has a sister, a young woman by the name of Hadley. I also need you to bring her to me.”

  Cole smiled. If Jack Western was indeed interested in the young woman, it wouldn’t be surprising, and it wouldn’t be the first time a crew member had enjoyed their time on planet more than they were paid for. For the most part, Cole ignored it. If they wanted a quick dalliance with a groundling, who was he to deny them? When it interfered with the cirque, however, was when he stepped in.

  Malak stared at him for a full thirty seconds before he blinked and shook his head.

  “Why?”

  Cole chuckled and got to his feet. He rounded his desk and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

  “You need not worry. I simply desire to speak with the girl. I heard an interesting rumour about her getting past Marcus’s glamour and Annalise, rest her soul, mentioned her. She will be treated well.”

  “I can’t get both of them.”

  Cole perched on the edge of his desk and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Take the Advance,” he decided. “A few bottles of liquor to the taverns would not go amiss in exchange for business on our second night and they can help you bring our guests.”

  Malak nodded but he didn’t meet Cole’s gaze as he turned back to the door.

  “And Malak…” Cole said, bringing his friend back around. “No word of this to Mr. Western, are we understood?”

  Malak chewed on his bottom lip.

  “Yes, Sir,” he said, and promptly left the room.

  Alone in his quarters again, Cole went to the wall and turned a small panel around. The intercom flashed on the moment it was revealed and he turned the volume all the way up.

  Perhaps it would help their cause if Jack Western had formed some sort of bond with the girl. If he directed his efforts with care, Western would be a good pressure point to convince the girl that her best offer was to join them.

  Then, of course, there was the brother. Who knew what other connections the girl had within the city. How many threads would need to be severed before she had nothing to lose by joining them?

  Cole collected his litcom from his desk and went to the door through to his private quarters. He wrenched the door open, making a note to have it oiled by one of the engineers during the next jump, and disappeared into his room. He’d need to be well rested and presentable if they were to receive guests before the day was out.

  The white dress didn’t fit Annalise properly anymore. It was too wide around the hips and the body too loose. But she had liked it. She had said that she felt more herself when she wore it. The other dresses, the skirts and shawls she wore for the cirque weren’t her. They were gaudy and false, they were the performance she gave of herself. They weren’t her.

  Despite being too loose, she looked beautiful in it. Getting her out of her show clothes had been easier than getting her into the dress. It felt wrong to move her body around instead of leaving her peacefully on her bed. Their bed. It had been their bed for over a year but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep there again. It would be her bed until Cole Hatliffe saw fit to fill it with another new performer.

  Her body was already stiff and unyielding as he turned her over to do up the buttons, when he carried her out of the ship wrapped in white linen. Digging the grave had taken longer than he’d expected and he was sore and tired. He didn’t let anyone go with him, not that they asked. A few people had stopped, kissed her covered forehead, and whispered their goodbyes before letting him continue on his way. They knew, or at least suspected, that he wanted to do this alone.

  The linen was dusty with sandy earth on the breeze by the time he laid her on the ground next to the grave. He had to climb down into it in order to lower her in, climbing out afterwards and staring down at her. She looked smaller, so small. But even wrapped in linen, she looked like his Anna. He could see the point of her nose and the curve of her cheeks beneath the thin material. He had to leave her. He had to put her into the past that had become so lost to her.

  Annalise had told him that he would forget her when the new one came and yet he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget this; how small she looked lying at the bottom of a shoddily dug grave. He hadn’t forgotten anything, but Annalise’s other words, telling him that she would forget first, had been true enough. Though she had told him that she would forget him, it wasn’t only the memories of him that had gone from her by the end. Everything she was had been stripped away but the thought of a child. He’d not told Mr. Hatliffe about the baby Annalise had been obsessed with seeing in her final hour.

  Annalise had always been reluctant to discuss her past. She would tell him that all that mattered was who they were now, who they would become. Jack couldn’t help but wonder whether her reluctance to talk about the life she had left was more to do with the person she had left. Had Annalise been a mother when she joined the ship, and what had brought her to such a point that she would decide to leave her own child? The only person he could think of who would know even the beginnings of answers was the ringmaster, and given the man’s mood, he wasn’t about to ask him.

  He spent a long time staring down at her body all wrapped in linen before he could bring himself to drop the first shovel full of earth down on her. The dirt covered her stomach and hips, built up over her knees and then her feet. He covered her chest and arms until all that remained was her face, already hidden beneath cloth. It would be the last time he could see the shape of her nose and the slope of her cheekbones. With the touch of her hair beneath his fingertips, Jack lifted the shovel and dropped the earth, covering Annalise Romero.

  It was just past midday when Jack finally reached the city. Despite knowing the name of one of the guards and having a story to get him through the gate, Jack searched the chain link of the southern fence for a weak spot. He ducked behind the outlying houses of farmers, tugging on the fence and scanning close to the ground. Cirques weren’t the only reason to sneak out of the cities, nor were they the only people who wanted to bring contraband in. Every city had a weak spot, most of them had many. They all had places where the fence had been cut or the wire had been wrenched from the ground, leaving just enough room for a person to wiggle through, maybe push through a crate of liquor to be sold in back alleys.

  He was almost to the south-west quadrant when he found it. Behind a weather-worn home painted in flaking maroon, the stone and wood beneath showing through the patches. Checking to make sure nobody was around, Jack tugged the wire away from the post and crouched, edging his way through the gap. It was a tight squeeze and his clothes caught on the exposed edges of the wire. With only a few scratches, he stood on the inner side of the fence, brushed himself off, and headed into the centre of the quadrant.

  Hadley had said she lived on Barnard Street. He’d seen her in a tavern in the south-east quadrant so it was a good assumption that her home was nearby. Setting off in the direction of the tavern, he checked every street he passed but none of them was the right one.

  Just as he was turning onto a wide street, two men in coalition uniforms strode in front of him discussing a fight between citizens. Jack leapt back, flattening himself against the nearest wall. He held his breath behind his lips, the thump of his pulse beating in his temple. It was easier to forg
et how many of them were coalition when they were in their civilian clothes, when they were enjoying the cirque like everyone else. Seeing them in full uniform was more difficult and set his nerves on edge every time.

  There was little chance that anyone on this backwater speck would get news from the central planets. Even if they did, he doubted they would pay attention to it. What did they care about the news of the central planets? Why would a scandal affect them? He knew that the only news they paid attention to out here would be that of their own making. Unless there was a coalition-wide law change, nobody cared. Still, it didn’t make it any easier to relax. It didn’t shake the tingling of cold metal from around his wrists. It didn’t make it any easier to forget the tall bay doors in rusted charcoal grey as they loomed closer to his window.

  He waited until the soldiers had turned the next corner, disappearing from sight, before he continued on his way. His heart beat a little faster and he checked over his shoulder every minute to make sure nobody was following the unfamiliar man in their midst. Slipping in between stalls in the market, Jack lost himself in the crowd, keeping his head down.

  The market was quiet. Despite the number of stalls, there were few customers milling amongst them. The tables were overloaded and Jack passed more than one stall selling a mix of belongings alongside their normal trade. Piles of linens were laid out next to tarnished candlesticks and hastily cleared photo frames. A selection of fruit next to a pile of books. All throughout the market, people were selling whatever they could, and Jack knew why. He hung his head lower. It was the same on every planet.

  The only stall conspicuously missing was the one selling meat, a large open space in front of the butcher’s shop, still shuttered and dark.

  Next to the closed shop, a table had been set up beneath a faded awning. He glanced up, scanning the window of the bakery. The girl behind the table waved as a customer left, giving a pleasant smile. She quickly covered the buns with a thin cloth to keep the insects away and stepped back to lean on the window. In the shade of the awning, her eyes were almost entirely black, but her teeth were white as any Jack had ever seen when a smile came to her dark lips. She wiped her hands off on the front of a smeared apron as he approached.

  “Afternoon,” she chirped, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Can I interest you in a honey slice?”

  Jack’s gaze swept over the table. Every basket of rolls and cakes had been covered with linen. Even knowing they held bread, he had no idea what kinds would have been in each one without lifting the linen to peek. He glanced at her and grinned conspiratorially.

  “Well, I was after directions,” he admitted. “But I think I could be tempted. Local honey?”

  “Local everything!” the girl laughed. “We don’t get a lot of imports around here.”

  Jack cursed himself. Of course, most of the produce in the market would be locally sourced. Inter-planet trade went to the big warehouses to be distributed by the proper authorities. Or, as was more likely, to be hoarded and sold off at extortionate prices to governments in need. Jack had never really trusted any group who claimed they worked for the common good instead of their own, but it had taken a first-hand look for him to see how corrupt the Coalition really was. They hadn’t been the saving grace, not for him, and not for anyone else.

  “Well, perhaps we can do a trade?”

  The girl’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. She pushed her rounded hip out in a way that he was sure most young men liked when they bought from her.

  “And what exactly are you trading?”

  He chuckled and leaned forwards.

  “You mean my pretty face doesn’t get me anything?”

  “It gets you a kick,” she said with a perfectly practiced smile. Jack grimaced.

  “Ouch,” he replied. “I guess I’ll buy the slice then. Actually, make it two.”

  The girl laughed under her breath as she collected up a small paper bag and uncovered one of the baskets. Golden honey was spread sparingly over the top of each one, not dripping from the slice like they would be on the central planets, but the cake looked well enough made for him to not regret parting with his money. He dropped the coins into her sticky fingers and accepted the bag.

  “Where were you looking for then?”

  “It’s not going to cost me extra?” he asked, squinting mockingly at her.

  “Not this time.”

  “I’m looking for Barnard Street.”

  Doubtless he could have told the girl exactly who he was looking for and she would have known where to find them. Small cities like this were often tight-knit, especially when you broke them down into quadrants, but he didn’t feel right telling strangers who he was going to meet. The girl didn’t ask, either. She simply stepped out from behind the table and came to stand next to him, pointing down the street.

  “Down this road, second left. Take the first right after that and carry on down to the end.”

  He glanced down at her.

  “Thanks.”

  “And if you get lost, you can always come back and buy more slices. Five and I give you a personal escort.”

  Jack laughed and patted her on the shoulder.

  “I’ll consider it.”

  The smile was gone from his lips the moment he was out of her sight. It was easier to smile when there was someone expecting you to be cheerful. Performing for an audience was easier than empty chairs. They smiled when you smiled and it was simpler to pretend to be happy.

  It didn’t take long to reach Barnard Street. Despite her teasing, the girl from the bakery had given him perfect directions. He counted his way along the houses, half of the numbers missing from the doors.

  Number twenty-four had a small wooden porch built onto the front of the house. Most of the railings were cracked and needed a good polish, but it looked solid. He trudged up the steps and glanced around him before he knocked, counting down from the last house he’d seen with a number.

  Relief passed visibly over Hadley’s face when she opened the door. Jack was once again struck by how odd it was that she remembered him so easily. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind her.

  “Jack,” she breathed. “Thank God.”

  Jack swallowed the guilt and the pleasure at the way his name sounded on her lips, so soft and warm.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “I planned on being here earlier but…”

  He couldn’t bring himself to say it. The words caught in his throat, stuck like the honey on the slices. He swallowed again and held the bag out.

  “I brought cake.”

  Hadley smiled and a blush rose on her cheeks, warmer than the way she said his name. Taking the bag from him, she was cautious as she looked inside. She sniffed the opening in the bag and glanced up at him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Is your brother here?” he asked.

  The smile faded instantly, as did the relief. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head.

  “He went to work,” she said. “I tried to convince him to stay home, but he’s set on taking down the cirque. He says it’s worse than he thought. Jack, I… I need to know what’s going on. What happened last night?”

  Jack glanced over his shoulder and rubbed the front of his shoulder, staring down at his shoes. He wanted to tell her that everything was fine, that he’d been overreacting. He wanted to lie.

  “Hadley, can I come in?” he asked finally. “I promise, I’ll tell you everything.”

  The break room was alive with activity. A group of soldiers sat on the benches in front of the lockers laughing uproariously as Lachlan pushed the door open. One of the men was telling a story of his night at the cirque, standing in front of the men, gesturing wildly. At the sight of their captain in the doorway, the men fell silent one by one, nudging each other in the ribs until the entire line of men stared at him in guilty horror. Only the storyteller remained, miming the size of a woman’s
breasts with his hands.

  When he realised his captive audience had fallen quiet for something other than to hear his story better, he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of their stares. The colour drained from his face and he dropped his hands to clasp them behind his back, adopting an at-ease stance.

  “Sorry Captain,” he murmured, lowering his gaze.

  Lachlan looked along the line of soldiers, all now staring at their knees. They looked like naughty school children. Only José stared back at him. His glare was defiant and superior. Lachlan licked his bottom lip.

  “All of you out,” he ordered. “I need a word with Caron, Moreno, and Valdez.”

  The soldiers jumped to their feet, grabbing their belongings and shoving them hastily into lockers before rushing past him, tugging on jackets and tucking in shirts. Kalvin hopped along to avoid treading on his undone shoelaces.

  Paul scooted closer to José on the bench, straightening his collar. Fred propped on foot up on the wood and wound his arm around his knee, leaning forward with a bright smile. If José had told him about the altercation in the office earlier, he didn’t seem at all worried about it.

  “What’s up, Tack?” he asked.

  Lachlan closed the door behind him and grabbed a chair from against the wall. He dragged it forward and took a seat. As he glanced at José, he considered apologising for the way he’d spoken to him, but at the sight of the man’s confident glare, the words promptly vanished from his lips. He took a seat and smoothed his trousers against his thighs.

  “Staff Sergeant Beukes wants us to go back to the cirque tonight.”

  The three men sat up a little straighter, their expressions alert.

  “We didn’t get enough last night to perform a solid raid. We are to go, ensure we get a full report, and be back here by two am.”

  “Why back so soon?” Fred asked.

  “Beukes wants to hit the cirque at daybreak,” he explained. “We’ll have a force waiting for us. The moment the civilians leave and the cirque workers start closing down the show, we move in.”