The Creative Fire: 1 (Ruby's Song)

by Brenda Cooper

  Ruby stayed close to Joel, more control now in her breathing.

  Joel was right. They’d won. Ellis was on the ground, unconscious, and so was Sylva. It was the first time Ruby had ever seen her looking relaxed. Three or four others lay on the stage, stunned or, in one case, beaten. A woman’s body lay across the floor at the foot of the stage. But most people stood, and some even sat. Most of the movement and chaos had slowed or stopped.

  A great happiness filled up Ruby’s belly, the happiness as deep as her anger during the fight, as her fear before that. Not happiness. Triumph. She thought she’d felt that before, but she never had, not really.

  She wanted to float with it, giddy.

  Except Garth was still watching, and he was far away.

  Joel looked up at the picture of Garth. “There are more of us than of you. In case you don’t know it, you’ve lost. We’re taking the rest of the ship as I speak.”

  Everyone in the room was looking at Joel now, some quietly, some with approval or hatred, some merely curious. A few looked stunned and surprised.

  Garth regarded Joel, silent and furious.

  Onor had come up on Joel’s far side, standing close to him, protecting.

  Ruby fought to keep her face neutral, to think in the midst of the continued rush of joy at winning this room. It wasn’t done yet; she couldn’t afford to get ahead of the end of the fight. Mistakes lurked in laziness.

  Joel kept his eyes on Garth’s. Didn’t move.

  Ruby watched him, marveling at the strength in his face, the resolve. He was sure of himself, sure past the events in this room.

  The doorways had cleared enough that grays and blues and reds who had come in at the same time as Joel—all wearing the multicolored sign in easily visible ways—streamed into the crowd and sorted. Ruby couldn’t tell what they were doing, but it looked like they were finding the sign and putting people into two groups. They attended to the stunned or wounded in a third corner of the room.

  Good.

  She whispered in Joel’s ear. “How do we get them? Garth and his supporters?”

  To their right, a red swung a defiant fist at a swarthy, dark man wearing the sign and was immediately hit with three stunners. A last burst of fighting?

  Garth spoke. “A ship without discipline will fail. We will yet win, and when we do, you will die with Ruby and her friends.”

  Ruby glared up at him. “Come meet me where we live. Where the workers work and keep The Creative Fire going.” Her voice rose. “I dare you.”

  “We will win,” Garth said.

  “Not today,” Ruby said. “We’ve done it.” Only they couldn’t leave yet. There was a step to take still. She pursed her lips, feeling what they should do like a word stuck behind her tongue.

  Joel pointed up at the screen, an answer to the question she’d whispered in his ear earlier. Three men in green had come up and surrounded Garth, who stood stock still.

  He looked startled at the intrusion.

  “Ix let them in,” Joel said to Garth.

  Garth flinched and betrayal touched his face before he hardened it.

  Joel turned and looked out at the room full of people. Everyone had stopped, the silence so complete that Joel could speak just above his normal tone. “Watch,” he said. He raised a hand and lowered it.

  Ruby looked back at the screen. Garth jerked and fell. One of the greens laid a blanket over him. As the blanket covered Garth’s face, noise erupted, sobs and disbelief.

  He had been shot dead. Not stunned.

  She turned to Joel, shocked. They’d won. They didn’t need to kill him. Not like that. Maybe if he was right here and fighting them hand to hand.

  Then she thought about Lila Red, who had been killed by a captain. But even that didn’t take away the feeling of too much cruelty.

  She felt unsure of Joel, maybe a bit frightened. But then surely he’d had to kill Garth. He must know what he was doing.

  Joel looked out at the crowd, his jaw tight. He stood strong, legs slightly apart, leaning a tiny bit forward. He lifted an arm above his shoulder. She expected him to claim victory, but he did something far smarter. He spoke to the crowd. “Garth had to die for the fighting to stop. Now we are all free.”

  His audience gave him puzzled looks, but Ruby felt a small, warm smile creeping up her bruised face.

  “We are all free,” Joel repeated. “We can stop fighting one another, because a ship’s crew does not fight. A ship’s crew works together. And we have a ship to take home.”

  Ruby could see it now, feel it. That thing behind her tongue. She called out, “Ix!”

  Ix answered her with no hesitation. “Ruby Martin.”

  This was the final necessary move. Ix. “We want Joel to be captain. Do you recognize him as our captain, so that you will obey him?”

  “Joel,” Ix said, “Do you wish this honor?”

  Joel did what Ruby knew he would. He looked out over the crowd and placed the decision in the hands of the crew. “Are you ready? If you are ready for a new day, I am ready for a new day. I will not betray you. I will bring you home.”

  The crowd roared so loud that Ruby barely heard Ix say, “I will follow Joel.”

  62: The End Is the Beginning

  Ruby wandered through the victory tables, tasting the fresh vegetable soup, greeting people she’d met, meeting people she hadn’t. Ani and Onor trailed behind her, guarding while pretending not to. Colin had opened up a string of three cargo bars that connected one to the other and provided bright lighting and upbeat music, and even a small crowd of servers who were all capable of turning to fighters if anything suspicious happened.

  So far, nothing had.

  The Fire was full of pleasure for this moment. She could feel it here, as if the simple relief and happiness of all being on the same side again had erased the bitter feelings. It wouldn’t be that simple in the long run, but it was good now.

  Joel stood on the far side of the room, deep in conversation with Colin and Conroy, and, oddly, Dayn. But then, this was a time of mixing and of new relationships. At least Fox wasn’t here, although she’d see him again, too. She was sure of it. But not so far today.

  From time to time Joel met her gaze, leaving her tender and a tiny bit melted.

  She and Joel had started on the gray levels, had visited three parts of the ship-wide feast already. They had just come from command, where the atmosphere was a little less boisterous and the food better, if less plentiful.

  The guards were the only real sign that the battle had been over for only twenty-four hours. That, and the fact that her feet hurt and her voice was so tired she couldn’t sing, even when people asked her to.

  Onor leaned over and took her elbow. “Joel wants you.”

  “Thanks.” She walked close to Onor on the way over. He kept his eyes straight ahead, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. She whispered to him. “Thank you for more than this. Thank you for all the things you’ve ever been to me.”

  He let go of her arm and looked around the room, approval and loss both registering on his face. “You will always be my best friend,” she told him.

  “Always,” he answered.

  She couldn’t stand how cold he sounded. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  He nodded. Marcelle came up on his other side, grinning from ear to ear. “We did it!”

  Ruby smiled at her other best friend. “I know. Will you two help me with the next part?”

  “Which is?” Marcelle asked.

  “Not today,” Ruby said. “We will need to figure that out. Right now, celebrate.”

  An old man in red reached a hand out for her. She took his hand absently, thinking of Onor, and then realized it was Ben. “Thank you, Ruby,” he said.

  She leaned down and brushed her lips across the old man’s forehead. “Thank you for protecting us.”

  When they were past him, she told her friends, “I mean it. Without you and Marcelle this would never have happened.
At least not this way. We did it together. Got free, got here.”

  “I know,” Onor said. “I know you mean it and I know you love us both, and maybe everyone else, and maybe none of us. It’s hard to tell. That’s what makes it so hard to love you. You love me back and you don’t.”

  His words stung. “Of course I love you. You’re tired.”

  “We’re all tired.”

  She didn’t like the way he sounded at all. She couldn’t think of a magic way to help him, and she didn’t have a way to offer him any more of her than he already owned. Maybe they were just still exhausted. Maybe it would be better in the future.

  Onor stepped back after he delivered Ruby to Joel’s side. Even though they had been back together now, she searched Joel’s face, needing to know he loved her, maybe needing the same thing from him that Onor needed from her. He returned her gaze tenderly and held her close to him for a moment. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “When we have time, I want to sleep curled up at your side for a whole week.”

  “We can probably get away for a few hours soon.”

  “And then?” she whispered, hoping to hear him use tender words with her.

  “Then we have to start getting people ready to go home.”

  About the Author

  BRENDA COOPER lives in the Pacific Northwest, which is peopled by many authors, perhaps because it is the home of perfect writing weather. She writes science fiction and fantasy stories and novels, walks dogs, and, when she’s not writing fiction, she works for local government and writes blogs about the future.

  For more information, please head to http://www.brenda-cooper.com/rubys-song.

  Acknowledgments

  Every book is a group effort.

  Writers help each other. In this case, specific thanks go to all of those who read the first draft at the Starry Heaven workshop in Flagstaff, particularly to Rob Ziegler and Jenn Reese, who read the full manuscript and gave me great advice and didn’t pull punches. Thanks to Sarah Kelley for organizing the workshop and chasing me down to suggest I attend. I also appreciate Brad Beaulieu, who provided some extra support in marketing. Thanks to John Pitts, who is always one of my fine first readers and who has supported my work since before most of it was published; to Louise Marley and Cat Rambo and Melissa Shawl, who read many bits of it along the way in a writer’s group; and to my dad, who reads my manuscripts and comments quite well. Every science fiction writer should have a father who is a real rocket scientist.

  There are songs in this book. I am not able to sing (well, when I’m alone I often sing, but other people don’t like my voice much). So to prepare for this, I attended two songwriting workshops led by the talented Cris Williamson. Any mistakes in the songs are mine, and I appreciate her patience while trying to teach songwriting to a woman who can’t hear the difference between notes.

  I can’t say how pleased I am to have Lou Anders champion this book. He is a fabulous person and one of our finest editors.

  As always, thanks to Eleanor Wood, my agent. These are shifting times in the industry, and Eleanor has been steady.

  My family’s support is valuable beyond measure. Writers are not the easiest folk to live with. We are often somewhere else—either physically or in our heads.

  Books are written to be read. Thanks to everyone who has read any of my work, and thanks in particular to those of you have commented on it to me.

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