by Naomi Fraser
The pain of that thought has me leaning against the shower screen, my chest too tight. It’s easier if they’re just not in my life in the first place. It’s easier not to feel; Astrakhan was right.
By the time a buzzer resonates in our room from the communication box near the door, my hair is dry and styled in cascading waves to my waist. So is May’s with a little help. I have my emotions under control, and I’m ready to play my part. The flowing hem of my white gown sweeps my ankles in small ripples. I slip on the white water healer robe and then step toward the door in borrowed sandals, the sound a hollow, rhythmic swipe upon the stone, like sand scouring dry terrain.
May wears a dark blue shift dress, the high collar touching her earlobes, something I’ve seen more in reels of Tachyon city wear at the training facility on Echyion. It’s too hot to wear clothes like that here, which means the dress has been sent in.
Interesting.
Constance’s words—“Two days in advance”—play in my mind. I look at May’s shoes. Twin heels, no less. For a child. The shoes are rich blue with a strap across the top of the foot. But why Tachyon clothes, instead of one of the other planets?
I release the ice locks, and the door slides open. Mindful not to crease my dress, I cross the threshold, May’s hand firmly tucked in mine. Two guards dressed in brown uniforms greet us in a formal manner, and we follow them into an elevator, which plummets us down six floors, past the Laboratory Level, then the Offices of Tax Collection, Health, Education, Natural Resources, and Security. The transport is steel and curved rather than glass like the elevators on my home planet. May fidgets in the silence, waiting for the doors to open, like she’s picking up on my unease.
This dinner will not be about satisfying hunger. It will be a political exercise to show Qelia’s leaders everything I can do. To follow through on the bargain I made with Marcus, the duty I’ve been trained my whole life to uphold.
The elders are the only ones who know my full capabilities from Astrakhan. He recorded every moment through his ocular cameras.
Officials and dignitaries are sitting around tables when we enter the dining area, and on the left-hand wall, a massive screen plays the moment I pointed to the sky and made it rain. Then the sound dies on the display, and the minister’s voice reverberates through the room.
“And here she is. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce to you all the water healer who will change . . . our world, Qelia . . . for the better. Please welcome, Victoria Undine,” he says into the speaker screen.
A round of thunderous applause echoes as the guards lead May and I past the numerous tables to the minister, standing on a podium, a glass of amber alcohol in his hand, his cheeks flushed bright pink. Toasting, then. Other officials, including James, rise to their feet one by one around the grand tables, until everyone in the room turns to salute. Once again, a song plays, and everyone stands to attention. The dining room twinkles with the colours of dark blue, white, silver, and gold. Majestic considering where I am. The tables look like pure white howlite gems set amidst a sapphire sea.
The colour of Marcus’s eyes.
My heart turns, and I blow out a breath, but my water healer face slips on. I step toward the minister, May’s hand in mine. The overhead chandelier picks out lights in his brown hair. Though, it can’t compare to Marcus’s when the ship’s orangey lights hit the strands right. Heavens, stop.
The minister is jovial, and I smile back as he guides me closer to the speaker screen. So that’s the noise everyone has been chanting. “Speech, speech.”
He passes his drink to an assistant and then gestures for me to speak.
“Which introduction will you choose?” Astrakhan would ask. “Which one would suit this particular planet and circumstances the most?”
“Now, don’t be shy, everyone here is dying to meet you,” the minister says as an aside. “We’re pleased. Very pleased.” Then, to the speaker screen, he says, “Let’s give her a grand Qelia welcome.” He raises his hands to clap.
Everyone joins in on another round of applause, and I clear my dry throat, holding tight to May’s hand, restraining the emotion.
When the sound dies, I try to focus on the people. “As you know, I am Echyion’s water healer. My training began at three years of age. I am now twenty-five. It has been over two years since my legal-age release, although I haven’t been available for trade in that time.” The speaker screen amplifies my voice, distorting the tone into a high-pitched whine, and the walls seem to echo. “I have the necessary training to help your world.” The vibration razes along my skin, and I tilt my head to study the walls. The tremor doesn’t feel normal. Sensors. Of course. “This address is also one I’d like Qelia’s people to hear, so thank you, Minister, for recording it.” I glance at the minister, Gerald Beam, thankful he gave his name on the tour of the headquarters before showing us to our suite.
He blinks once, twice and then coughs. “Of course, of course. I had to do that. But what are you thanking me for?” He smiles wide, genuinely happy. “You are the one who is going to change our destiny. Thank you, Water Healer. Thank you.”
I smile back at the bureaucrats gathered around the tables so crowded in, there’s hardly any room to pull out the chairs. “If any of you were unaware, my services have been paid for by Captain Collins of the ship Liberty. I cannot reveal the particulars under my code of conduct, but my trade with him was to heal all of Qelia.” More applause. “I will start with Flioqe, and then afterward, I’ll travel to the next place in direst need on this planet and so on. Lives take precedence over land.” I study each of the faces turned to me, watching with interest as the light plays over their expressions, unable to help comparing them with Astrakhan’s teachings on how moods shape images. A lot of them obviously have different, set ideas on where I should go next. “I understand many are in need, and this is a vast land, but I work fast. Just making it rain won’t be enough.” Low laughter fills the room. “I look forward to co-operating with your engineers and scientists to find a viable, permanent solution to clean, cheap water for all of Qelia.”
Everyone rises to their feet with difficulty from the lack of room, clapping with a rousing ovation, but with so many sensors in the walls, the sound must be deafening for the recording. The next part is important.
I hold up a hand, waiting for silence, and then I lean closer to the screen. “In regards to the sick, I will see them either at the gates to the city or in their respective hospitals, and all services will be free.”
This time I don’t have to wait for silence. It falls like a meteor, crashing through the ground, and I’m glad I have May’s hand to hold onto as I step away to the stairs. My knees are trembling. The minister seems to forget he has hands as he tries to help, fumbling with my elbow, unshed tears in his eyes.
His profuse thanks through the speaker screen shakes the sensors in the walls and hurts my head, but the minister continues to say platitudes while May and I take our seats between James and another official.
The guards with us disappear to join others in the corners of the dining area.
Wait staff slip into the room from side doors, carrying trays of food, and the aroma of roasted meats, vegetables, and seafood washes over me. I breathe in deeper, reminded of a simple chicken curry and rice dish that tasted like heaven. Of friendly faces and laughter. Suddenly, I long for Liberty’s smaller kitchen.
A server puts down a plate before me with a stack of three different types of fish, herb sauce, a few cherry tomatoes, and a sprinkling of deep yellow oil. “Fish? Olive oil?” I ask. “In Flioqe?”
“Flown in just for you.” James smiles at me and edges closer. The scent of his aftershave itches my nose and irritates my throat. “No expense spared.”
I can’t smile back. “What do the people eat here?” I ask.
He tilts his head, a small smile on his face. “I’m not sure. I’m a recent fly-in from the capital.”
I nod, troubled. I answer questions in an
even tone throughout dinner, requesting a hovercraft for personal use from the minister, and then I state some of the methods I’ll use to restore Flioqe’s water.
His delighted smile makes me linger at the table, because I know I’m offering him hope. However, by the end of the night, my head pounds from the aftershave, and I have to restrain the blue. I yearn to hear Marcus’s voice, even if the conversation is short. Hi, bye. He will be in his ship, ready for bed. I wonder how the garden is going. It’s only been one day.
I lean in closer to James and whisper in his ear, “This has all been extremely lovely, but I’d like to go back to my suite now, please. My sister and I will need a good sleep before I start the water regeneration tomorrow.”
“Sure—” His gaze lands on the bracelets. The glitter of the chandelier against the white cloth refracts off the elegant glassware and digital readout. I had taken them off while I ate, then replaced them when I finished. “Too much wine, I expect.” He smiles, shifts away his gaze and then pushes back his chair.
I never drank any wine.
“I didn’t notice them before. Who gave you the bracelets?” he asks.
“Captain Collins. I promised to see his mother again, and I’d like to stay in touch with the ship’s crew.”
James nods, wiping his mouth on a white cloth napkin. “Of course. I didn’t know you’d seen his mother. Wait here,” he says, stands and then walks over to the minister on his left who sits at the head of the table. James talks into the minister’s ear, and he frowns at first, but once his gaze lands on me, his regard turns approving.
I can’t help feeling something went wrong, even though the minister is smiling. I focus on James’s expressions and body language.
James gestures to two guards who appear at his side, graceful as shadows. All three men stride back to me. “If you would like more protection on the way to your suite, we would be happy to provide it,” James says, once again his gaze sliding to my wrists, except I pick out his insincere smile this time. “Although, the headquarters are secure.”
So, he’s not happy about the bracelets. Why? I narrow my eyes on him, my mind flashing back to the last time the Oshiro president told me I was secure. I can’t help it. He ordered every means of communication to be taken away from me. I rub my lip, thinking it over. If James takes the bands off me, I’ll never be able to contact Marcus.
There was no need to play games with a robot in my training, but I will not allow someone to stop me from seeing my friends while I heal Qelia. A subtle warning never hurt, and it might save me from future trouble. “It’s fine.” I look up to his tall figure beside me, so elegant in his steel grey tuxedo, slicked back brown hair, and wide, toothy grin. It almost makes you want to smile back, and if I hadn’t seen his brief loss of composure at the bracelets, I would have. “The human body consists of sixty-percent water.”
“Is that right?” His smile is a line now. Although, the words have a hint of menace, his face holds a pleased countenance, like he’s noticed my study of his body.
I check the right bracelet Marcus gave me. “Yes. It’s time to make a call. Goodnight, James.”
*
On the way back to my suite, I check the time on the digital readout again. Ten o’clock. Late, but hopefully, not too late to contact Marcus if he’s awake. True nightfall came two hours or so ago.
And say what? I sigh, releasing Maybelle’s hand to wipe my sweaty palms against my silk dress. Hi, Marcus. I just thought I’d call to discuss things about the planet . . . ? No, can’t be too obvious. I don’t think they’re going to let me keep the bracelets.
I bite my lip as we traipse along the hall, but because we’re following the guards, I feel safe enough to hide the action of crossing my wrists. A square hologram shivers above my fists.
Then the alarm whines.
I glance up, shove my right hand behind my back and then clasp May’s hand with my left just as a guard peers over his shoulder. I don’t want them to see any part of my communication with the crew. Keeping a stoic face isn’t a problem for me—but my heart throbs so hard, I can feel it beating in my mouth.
The guards stand tall and inscrutable on either side of the door at the entrance to my suite.
“Thank you for your escort to my room,” I say to both of them.
“It is our utmost pleasure, Water Healer,” the uniformed guard on the right says, his body at attention.
Maybelle breaks the hold on my hand and then rushes inside the room toward the bed. “It’s still raining,” she says, with a big grin and climbs under the covers. “Can I sleep in your bed?”
“You’re not going to kick me in the stomach again, are you?” I laugh. “Or steal the covers?”
She shakes her head, and I thank the guards, closing the door.
Before it shuts completely, the guard on the right says, “We’ve been assigned to meet you each morning at seven hundred hours, Water Healer. The first stop for tomorrow is the wells.”
“Of course. Tell the minister we will be ready. Goodnight,” I say, pushing the doors closed.
“Did you see how much food they had there?” Maybelle’s eyes widen, and her eyebrows arch. “There were people everywhere. It was scary when you spoke to everyone. I don’t like standing up on stage. Those lights hurt my eyes.”
“I’ll take a look at them after you get in your pyjamas and brush your teeth.”
She sighs and throws off the covers, then trudges to her room. She’s back in a few minutes, wearing a simple shift nightie as she climbs into my bed. Her breath smells minty fresh.
I’ve already changed into a short gown, brushed my hair out and my teeth. I sit on the edge of the bed and then cross my wrists again. The square hologram appears in the air.
“What are you doing?” May asks, scrambling to kneel beside me.
“Calling Marcus.”
“Cool,” she says, trying to touch the image in the air, but static ripples through the picture. No one answers the call.
“It must be working. Do you hear the alarm?”
“Yes,” she says.
I let the buzzer ring out until the hologram shrinks into a line and disappears.
“Why isn’t he answering?” May asks.
“Maybe he’s asleep.” A weird, crestfallen sensation drops in my stomach.
“The noise would wake him. It’s loud enough.” She smiles at me and leans in to hug my upper arm. “You’re so warm.”
I call again, but get no answer. Sighing, I pull off the bracelets and tuck them under my pillow. “Let me look at your eyes.” The blue seeps into her skin, and she smiles. “Time to go to sleep now, May. We have a big day tomorrow.”
She leans over and kisses my cheek twice. I kiss her back three times. She giggles and then crawls under the covers, sliding across to the other side of the bed.
As I pull back the covers and lie down beside my sister, the headache squeezes my temples. My head feels bruised, heart too heavy, and the question of why Marcus hasn’t answered fills my mind until I grow more and more desperate to hear his voice. Which is stupid. But the more I force myself to go to sleep, the more I realise I can’t. Three hours later, my headache worsens, my stomach hurts, and I can’t lie down anymore. I feel too ill. I pull out the bracelets, check the incoming messages. Nothing. I shove the devices back under the pillow, stand up and then pace the room in the chilly night air.
When those double suns disappear, the temperature drops.
Should I try to call him again? Don’t be absurd.
“Tori?” May croaks out, still half asleep, but sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I try to smile, though I’m not sure I pull it off. “Just can’t sleep.”
She leans back into the pillows and rolls onto her side to face the middle of the bed. “Mm . . . I miss everyone back on the ship,” she says sleepily. “When can we go back there again?”
An awful, unquenchable longing tugs at my heart, and I shake my head and then ch
oke out, “They have things they need to do, May, as do I. But I’ll make sure you have a life, bub.” A shower is the best option to use the blue so I don’t flood the floor. I walk into the bathroom and strip off my nightclothes. “Not like me,” I whisper too low for her to hear.
Chapter Sixteen
The odours of disinfectant, disease, and medicine clings to the air inside Flioqe’s Medical Centre. I hurry alongside the medical director, past strange tapering pillars, stone walls and floors that echo with the sound of patients’ cries.
I should have been here on the first day, not at breakfast meetings trying to talk with bureaucrats about well locations.
“Tori, it smells funny.” May clamps a hand over her nose and mouth, and then she sneezes. “My nose is runny.”
“It’s the air in here.” I stop, touching the tip of her nose until the blue sinks into her cells. Once I calm the irritation, she grins back at me, and I give her a squeeze. Inside the building, daylight has a sallow quality and tastes of dust. “We’re just going to look in on the patients, and the director wants to show me the emergency room, May. Then we can go outside and get some fresh air.”
“Here it is,” the medical director says, standing nearer the entryway where the people’s cries of, “Water healer! Water healer!” come through the cracked windows and reverberate in the room.
“It sounds like a lot of people are eager to meet you,” he says. “But this is why we so desperately need your help.”
Various medical devices and two Medical Genesis Capsules hook up to the emergency room electrics, but the tissue-specific pods are broken and old. The chairs in the room are ripped, and I stand silent for a time, staring. The capsules in the headquarters are nothing but the best. I view the cracks in the Centre’s walls, broken hinges, beds held up by blocks, and crumbling sills around boarded windows. A raw fury squeezes my muscles.
