Marnie leans over to me. “Try it, Elvie,” she says.
“I’m not all that hungry.”
“Try it.”
It’s clearly not a suggestion. I look for sympathy from Cole or Ducky, but they’re having their own curry issues at the moment. Cole is simply tilting the plate back and forth to watch the gelatinous substance slosh around. Meanwhile, Ducky looks like he’s doing a pantomime of eating, complete with rubbing his stomach after each phantom bite.
“It’s good,” he says in a completely unconvincing voice.
Marnie’s gaze has not left me, and now I realize that Dodge is watching me expectantly too. I take a deep breath, dip the hard bread into the slimy liquid, and take a tentative bite. Immediately my mouth is overwhelmed by the most pungent form of vinegar I have ever tasted. It spreads across my tongue like an electrical arc, making my eyes water. After the initial shock of the vinegar, I realize that my mouth is on fire. Like, fifty-two-alarm-chili level of spicy.
“Oh God!” I say, spitting the food out onto my plate and coughing. “What’d they do, drop a whole jar of devil peppers into this crap?”
“Elvie, fer Pete’s sake,” Marnie scolds.
“Oh, it’s all right, luff,” Dodge says, laughing. “I wouldn’t expect a bunch of zoners to take to the seasoning right off the bat.”
“What’s a zoner?” Cole asks, using the question as a distraction as he clumsily pushes his own plate away.
“You lot,” Dodge says. “Living planet-side, enjoying the little bit o’ ozone we provide for you up here? Zoners.”
“Why in the name of all that is holy would you eat this . . . this?” I ask.
“Bein’ out here too long, your sense of taste and smell start to wane,” Dodge explains. “After a few years you can’t taste anything unless it’s flavor-blasted.”
“I think I’d rather eat that protein gel crap we had in Antarctica.”
“Protein gel?” Dodge whistles. “Well, aren’t we the fanciest of pants? You want protein here, best wait for the next bakery delivery and pray for maggots.”
The conversation has turned Ducky a color not unlike the milky slop on our plates. He tries to mask a queasy burp as he slides his plate away, knocking my plate in the process and nearly spilling it over the edge onto my lap.
“Watch it!” I cry. “You think I want to smell like this stuff until the end of time?”
Dodge is laughing hard now. I guess watching others suffer amuses him? I dunno. He wipes tears away from his eyes and stands up from the table.
“Why don’t I get you guys another round to wash the food down, eh?”
“That swill’s not much better than this,” I say. “Just thinner.”
That gets Dodge laughing again, and he slaps my arm as he chortles. Marnie reaches into her pocket, but Dodge stops her.
“No, luff. This round’s on me. For old times, yeah?”
He walks away toward the bar, still laughing and shaking his head.
“Well, he’s a fun guy, isn’t he?” I say. Ducky shrugs and uses the opportunity to dump his food onto Cole’s plate.
“Hey!” Cole screams, shoving the plate toward Ducky.
I smirk at the boys’ antics, but when I turn to Marnie, I drop the smile. To say that she’s giving me the evil eye is to do a disservice to the evil eye, which is downright benign by comparison.
“What?” I ask. She doesn’t answer me. I check the wall behind me to make sure I’m not sitting in front of a portrait of Pol Pot or something. But nope. It’s just me. “What?” I ask again. “What did I do?”
When she replies, her voice is laced with barely suppressed rage.
“Yer actin’ like a wee rotten princess,” Marnie replies dryly.
Cole and Ducky freeze their food spat and stare at us, dumbfounded. Cole whistles through his teeth. Ducky tries once again to become one with the bench.
“Excuse me?” I say.
“Ye’ve been naught but a spoiled bairn since ye arrived here,” Marnie says. “The lot of ye. I’m sick of it.”
“I’m being spoiled?” I huff. “I’m being spoiled?” She nods, all sassy-like. “Would you mind explaining to me how traveling on a mission to find my kidnapped child makes me spoiled?” I feel like my face might burst into flames. “Or, no, wait. Maybe I got so spoiled after my mother faked her own death and ran off with your lot. Is that the part you were referring to? Or maybe it was the thing where I just, like, a month ago figured out I wasn’t even a friggin’ human. So, I apologize, Marnie, if with all that going on I’m having a hard time feigning non-disgust regarding this failed science project masquerading as food. It’s hard to be polite sometimes when your entire life is falling apart.”
I may be a spastic lunatic of rage at this point, but Marnie is nothing but calm. “No one denies yer in a bad spot, Elvie,” she says. “And I feel sorry fer ye, I do. But ye’ve done nothing but dismiss this place and these folk since we got here, and I might remind ye that these folks”—she jerks her head toward the crowd—“are most of them fine gents who’ve lived near their whole lives in this spot that ye wouldn’t lower yerself to spit in. They work hard, they die quick, and fer what? So they can spend their free time and the little money they make shooting shite with their friends. And that ‘swill,’ as ye so disdainful put it? It’s costin’ Dodge what would go fer a day’s wage round here, so ye jes’ think about that ’fore ye turn yer nose up at it.” I am starting to feel a little squirmy in my seat, but Marnie goes on. “And as fer learning about yer roots a month ago”—she leans forward on both elbows, never breaking her intense gaze—“I’ve been Enosi me whole life, which is how long I’ve been runnin’ and hidin’. Cry me a river, ye ought. And even I wouldn’t swap one day with one of these fellas.”
I finally allow myself a breath. “Are you finished?” I say as she leans back in her seat. She gives me a look, daring a snarky comeback. Before I can speak, Dodge returns with a tray of beers. I can tell from the first sniff that this new batch is going to taste a whole lot like regurgitated sheep’s feet.
“Here you go. These should be a little easier on your tongue than the last,” Dodge says.
I take a mug from the tray. I can feel all eyes on me as I put it to my lips, tasting the bitter metal lip of the mug before the warm beverage fills my mouth. Yup. Sheep’s feet.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
I look at Marnie, and she nods ever so slightly in my direction.
“Look, Dodge,” Marnie says as Dodge settles back in at the table with his own mug. “We’re in need of a favor.”
“Anything for you, Legs,” Dodge says with a wink. “I still owe you for the ‘favor’ you did me.”
Ducky suddenly sits up as straight as an arrow in his seat. “Legs?” he asks no one in particular.
“Don’t be crass,” Marnie says. “Rake.” Her freckles disappear into a sea of red blush, a development that is not lost on Ducky. “We’re lookin’ fer information.”
“Who isn’t, luff? Information on what?”
“There’s a group of blokes, in deep with some bad bizzo. Nasty lot. Dangerous. Last place they were ken to be heading was up to the Belt.”
“You just described everyone I know,” Dodge says. “What’re you after them for?”
“They took my daughter,” I blurt out. Marnie gives me a quick sideways glance without moving her head. I think I detect the corner of her mouth tightening in a barely perceptible frown.
“Nappers, eh?” Dodge says, shaking his head with so much contrived sincerity that you’d think he was in a regional production of Our Town. “That’s the worst. But again, not uncommon. Belt’s a big place. You’re going to have to give me more than that to go on.”
“I dunnae that we are,” Marnie says, narrowing her eyes. I give her a confused look, but she doesn’t break her gaze away fr
om our would-be informant. “Whaddya know, Dodge?”
I can feel my stomach twisting itself into a knot, and it’s only partially the result of indigestion. Dodge grins at Marnie and gives her a wink, which does nothing to calm my nerves.
“Still read me like a book, dontcha?” he says. “Now that you mention it, I might know about some unusual goings-on, but aside from the beers, nuthin’s free up here, luff.”
“Dinnae take me fer a dobber,” Marnie says. “We’ve got a line of credit, ye and I.”
“But this here’s delicate information, Red. The price is, oh, triple the old rate.”
“Double,” Marnie says, unwavering. Dodge takes a long draw from his mug. Without putting it down, he holds out his other hand expectantly. Marnie reaches into her pocket and pulls out a credits card. She slaps it down onto Dodge’s palm. Before he can pull his hand back, she squeezes, pressing the card between their hands. She raises her eyebrows inquisitively, and he nods in answer. Only then does she release her grip. Dodge puts down his mug and pulls a card reader out of his jacket pocket. He swiftly swipes Marnie’s card and plugs in an amount I can’t see, before flashing the reader at Marnie for confirmation. She nods, and he pockets the reader, handing the card back to her.
“So, what do ye know, Dodge?” Marnie asks. “They hidin’ in the outer shoals somewhere?”
“That’d be a grand place to lay low, to be sure,” Dodge says. “But if you’re looking for who I think you are, then you won’t have to go nearly that far.”
“How far, then?” I interject.
“Oh, maybe a dozen decks or so.”
The information lands on the table like a bomb, as literally all of us fall back in our seats like we’ve been flavor-blasted.
“Dr. Marsden is here?” I gasp.
“Can’t say I got names,” Dodge says.
Marnie puts a calming hand on my forearm. “Let’s slow down,” she says, turning back to Dodge. “Awrite, what’s yer tale?”
Dodge shrugs. “All I know is that a little while ago New Moon got some new tenants downstairs. Secretive bunch. Set up shop in the unused facilities underneath the refinery.”
“Jes’ like that,” Marnie says, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “That area’s owned by the Federated Gas Minin’ Conglomerate. And yer sayin’ these bastarts waltzed in and took over the entire facility without any fuss?”
“Well, if all I’d done was seen ’em, I might’ve guessed they coasted by on their good looks,” Dodge says. My heart is smashing into my rib cage. “But these guys are full bricks, yeah?”
“Full bricks?” Cole asks.
“They’ve got money,” Marnie translates.
“That’s the understatement of the year, luff,” Dodge replies. “These guys have thrown so much money at the Governor, they can pretty much do whatever they please. They could be running around the ship taking anything they wanted, if that was what they felt like doing. But they’ve stayed out of sight, for the most part. Doing God knows what down there in those old medical facilities.”
Medical facilities. Oh God. What are they doing to my poor baby?
“That’s them!” I say a little too loudly. “It’s got to be them. What are we waiting for?”
“Hold yer roll, Elvie,” Marnie says. “Even if it is them, from what Dodge is sayin’, they’ve got the protection of the local government.”
“Calling it government, there’s a laugh,” Dodge says. “Just the Governor and his goons, really. Used to get by on squeezing whatever credit they could from the poor blokes living here. Now, with all the bricks comin’ in from this new lot, they don’t know what to do with all their wealth. Like giving a walrus a mandolin.”
“They won’t want anyone poking around their benefactors,” Marnie says. “We best be dead careful, or we’ll wind up stockaded.”
“Or worse,” Dodge agrees. “Having wealthy backers is making the Governor cocky. He was always a greedy, opportunistic prick, but times past he wouldn’t rock the boat too much, for fear of interrupting his credit flow. Now, though, he fancies himself some kind of bloody kingpin. He’s even pressing Huxtable a bit, hiring away some muscle.”
“Who is this Huxtable guy?” Cole asks. But before he can get an answer, I stand up. This is a million times better than I even dared dream. Marsden’s cronies, here, on this very space station? That places the odds that my baby is within crying distance at good to awesome. I reach into my pocket for the tracker, before remembering I left it on board the ship.
“What are we waiting for?” I ask the gang. All of my emotions are battling inside me—relief, fear, hope—and the adrenaline from it is making me shaky. I just hope I don’t start bawling in the bar.
Marnie rises as well. “Best get back to the ship.”
“Exactly,” I say. “I’ll grab the tracker. Then we’ll be able to follow it to—”
“Elvie.” Marnie offers me a sorrowful look. “We dinnae know fer certain that yer bairn is here. And even did we, we can’t jes’ go bargin’ into a Jin’Kai stronghold, the four a us, no weapons. Tha’s suicide.”
I am confused. “But my baby,” I say. I can feel my neck going rigid.
“I think I’m gonna leave you to it,” Dodge says, taking in the rising tension around the table. “Marnie, always a pleasure, luff. Maybe next time you’ll make a social call, yeah?”
He kisses her hand and disappears into the crowd so quickly that it’s tempting to think he might never have been there in the first place.
“What does he mean by that?” Ducky asks.
“Forget about him,” I say. “We need to find out how to get down to these secret facilities and rescue my daughter.”
“What we need to do,” Marnie tells me, “is head back to Oates and th’ others, tell them what we learnt. Now we’ve found Marsden’s base of operations, we need to inform someone who can do something about it.”
“You want to abandon her here?” I ask in disbelief.
“I want to do what’s in the greater good,” she tells me. “And I want ye to wake up and do the same.”
“But she’s here!”
“Aye, and what do ye want to do about it? Blast yer way into a fortified base crawlin’ with Jin’Kai? I thought we’d get a lead if we were lucky, something to point us in the right direction as we formulated a plan. We’re not prepared for a rescue.”
“I don’t believe this bullshit,” I say. I storm away from the table and head for the exit.
“Elvie, wait!” I hear Cole call from behind me. I stop and turn, to find him pushing his way toward me.
“What, Cole? You have something to add?”
“Only that, whatever you want to do, Elvs, I’m with you.”
Finally, someone I can rely—
“Hey, handsome, you’re not leaving so soon, are you?”
The chippie from the bar sidles up to us and puts an arm around Cole’s.
“Excuse me,” I say to her.
“You’re excused,” she replies, barely giving me a glance before turning back to Cole. “I didn’t get your digits or anything,” she tells him with a wink.
“Oh, um, hey,” Cole says. He looks between me and his floozy hanger-on. “Um, this, um, isn’t the best time right now.”
I can barely muster an “Ugh!” as I storm away into the outer passageway. I’m halfway to the elevator banks when the gang catches up to me.
“Elvie, please, just think about this for a minute,” Ducky says, panting.
I turn to my last and greatest ally. “Ducky,” I say, “can you please explain to your girlfriend why we’re not leaving here until we get what we came for? Thanks so much.”
“Actually, Elvie, I, er . . .” Ducky trails off, rubbing his arm slowly.
“What?” I snap at him. “Afraid Marnie won’t like you anymore if you tell her what you re
ally think?”
“Elvie.” Marnie’s voice is soft. Sympathetic. “Yer the one he’s afeart to tell.”
I knit my eyebrows together. “What?” I say, looking back to Ducky.
Ducky is clearly hoping Marnie will do the talking, but when she only stands there, looking pointedly at him, he finally pipes up, his voice hoarse. “We have information now. More than we could have hoped for. But Marnie’s right, we aren’t some kind of special forces strike force. We’re just us.”
“I was on a special forces strike force,” Cole chimes in.
“And how’d that go?” Ducky counters. “Look, we can use this information. Give it to your grandfather. They’ll know what to do.”
“All they care about is the invasion,” I say. “I need Olivia. If she’s here, I’m going to find her.”
“I’m sorry, Elvie,” Ducky tells me. He sounds genuinely gutted. “I want to find Olivia too. I do. But this is the entire world we’re talking about. These Devastator guys could literally destroy the planet if we don’t act fast. When you weigh things that way . . . she’s just one baby.”
We are all silent, letting Ducky’s words sink in.
“If we go back to Earth,” Ducky says softly, placating, “we can tell people what we know. People who can do something. We’ll get her back, Elvie. I promise.”
She’s just one baby.
“Don’t you talk to me,” I tell Ducky. My chest is frozen. “Not ever again.”
She’s just one baby.
Ducky reaches out an arm to try to make it up to me—leaving my baby in this place to die or worse—with a hug, I guess. But it’s not happening. I give him a stiff arm, sending him stumbling back for Marnie to catch.
“C’mon, then,” Marnie says. Her tone is conciliatory. “We’ll go ahead and get the ship fired up. Give ye a few ticks to yerself.”
“You do that.”
Marnie heads off to the elevators, Ducky in tow. He turns and gives me a pitiful look, but I am in no way willing to feel sorry for that backstabbing creep right now. I hope his new squeeze is there for him the next time his infant is kidnapped by aliens, because if he expects me to lift a finger, he can just forget it. They get into the first open elevator and turn to face us.
The World Forgot Page 9
