Rain on Neptune

by Lisa Jade

  Dad must pick up on my discomfort, because he places a hand on my shoulder.

  “So, why can we watch the launch, anyway?” he asks nonchalantly, “the last time one of these cruises happened, it launched from the Mainland, not here.”

  “This time, the ship is being built, piloted and maintained by Pyre,” I tell him, “the pilots and passengers are Level One citizens. Two are high-rated staff like engineers and navigators, and Three are companions. So it makes sense for the ship to launch from here.”

  “What about us?” Alice asks. I shrug.

  “Well, there are no companions from Four this time round. But the Council still need us to help stock the lower sections of the ship.”

  “Why they didn’t stock the ship a long time ago?”

  “They’ve been collecting supplies and flash-freezing them for a long time, but it’s not quite enough. Since it’s such a long trip, the Neptune needs huge stores of fish, vegetables, things like that. We can’t store that stuff in Pyre, so it’s been shipped across in sections and stored on the Mainland. These will be the very last supplies we provide.”

  It’s strange. I’ve been so careful not to think about the Neptune over the past six months, but the information is all still there. All that studying I did for the Companion Scheme must have paid off.

  Ironically, the entrance to the Neptune – the docking station – is near the Drop-off. I shudder as we approach, vividly recalling the last time I was here. The driving rain, the terrible storm. Once the painkillers had worn off and I’d come to my senses, I’d questioned my sanity in heading out there. I’m sure that if Dad hadn’t found me, I’d have slipped off the edge and never been found.

  Dad must have a similar thought, because as the crowd thickens around us, his hand finds mine. I reach out with my other and grab Alice, too. I tell myself it’s to ensure we don’t get lost in the crowd, but I barely believe myself.

  We finally reach the edge and my steps slow. There she is. The Neptune; the most luxurious space liner ever built. I’d imagine the luxury is all on the inside, though. The outside is vast, sure – so vast that I can’t see where it ends – but it’s otherwise unremarkable. I tell myself that it has to be, to survive leaving the Earth’s atmosphere in one piece. I don’t know whether the ship will be scrapped after its arrival, or if it’ll do a number of trips, but it certainly looks like it could manage several.

  I glance up. They’ve erected long, thin walkways from the upper levels and into various doors on the side of the ship. The doors on Level Four are bigger, clearly designed for cargo rather than passengers. Sizeable boxes are being carted in by Four citizens, watched closely by Operators. A small screen nearby shows the countdown for the launch. Only a few minutes until the doors are sealed. They had better hurry.

  For the briefest of moments, I imagine myself stepping out of the crowd. If I had been able to pass the tests, then I’d be saying my farewells right now and boarding the Neptune myself. Everyone would watch my back as I walked away, stunned that I managed it when nobody thought I could. And I’d feel an undeniable sense of smugness as I strode past them, having finally proven that I’m worthy of respect in my own right.

  Instead, I stop. I stand at the front of the crowd, one hand in Dad’s and the other in Alice’s, and just watch. I’m not going on the stupid ship. I failed.

  My head hangs, and I fear I may cry. I don’t want to; I’ve had enough of feeling sorry for myself. But I’ve also had enough of standing in the masses, never achieving anything.

  Alice catches my eye, and her lips draw back in a glum smile.

  “I understand,” she says, her voice nearly drowned out by the crowd, “it’s something you had to do.”

  “Y-yeah. This was all I ever wanted.”

  She glances at the clock. A couple of minutes left.

  “You don’t have to give up now.”

  “Huh?”

  “Dreams only die when you let them. There’s still time, Quinn.”

  I stare, but she’s already turned away. She’s talking to someone else now, sharing a little laugh with them. Like she never said those words.

  Suddenly, it hits me. A thought so stupid, so reckless, so unbelievably ‘Quinn’ that it takes me over instantly, filling my chest like smoke.

  I can make it. The distance, my speed. The Operators’ locations. The time on the clock.

  The taste of blood fills my mouth. I’m biting my lip too hard, listening to the debate burning in my skull.

  It would hurt Dad.

  He would understand.

  Alice would be furious.

  She knows how important this is.

  I might die.

  But you might live.

  But…

  Don’t question it.

  Don’t overthink it.

  The voice screams. Do it! Do it now!

  I squeeze both their hands and smile.

  “Dad, Alice. Thank you.”

  In an instant I’m stepping out of the crowd, darting out and making a beeline for the nearest cargo door. Sixty seconds until they’re sealed. I can make it.

  “Quinn!”

  Dad’s voice, tinged with horror as he recognises my intent. I ignore it. I have to be selfish just this once.

  I push past the nearest Operator and he cries out – but the others are too far away. They can’t keep up in their bulky gear. I dart towards the door, vaguely hearing the gasps from those behind me as they realise what’s going on.

  Quinn is running onto the Neptune.

  She’s going to die.

  I know. I know. I push the thoughts down and race up the ramp, still out of reach of my pursuers. At the top of the ramp I stop, daring to steal a glance back at Four.

  Dad stands at the edge of the crowd, his face a picture of shock. One arm is outstretched, as though he could drag me back. But he hasn’t come after me. Probably because Alice has a hand locked around his arm, holding him still. As I watch, she looks up to meet my eyes.

  And gives a tearful smile.

  “Hey!”

  “Get her!”

  Operators. They’re nearer now, rounding on me with unparalleled fury. I catch sight of the woman who scorched my arm and allow an animalistic growl to tear its way through my throat.

  “Sorry,” I snarl, “criminals don’t go to space.”

  I jump inside just as the automatic door slides shut.

  Seven

  My knees hit the floor hard and I slump against the nearest crate.

  I did it. I made it onto the Neptune.

  Sanity screams at me. What were you thinking?! You’re so stupid!

  I gulp down as much air as I can, fighting to keep my breathing quiet. In. Out. Like the Doctor taught me, to deal with pain. I’ve got this.

  Dimly, I become aware of a blaring sound. Is that the countdown, or has someone raised the alarm? Does anyone know I’m here? Approaching footsteps answer my question and I clamber to my feet.

  I’m in a near-black room filled to the brim with vast cargo crates. They form small, awkward walkways that I doubt would fit a grown man. When I breathe in, I can smell fresh produce. This is the storage facility. If I don’t move quickly, I’ll be flash-frozen along with the supplies.

  “…a stowaway?”

  A gruff voice startles me and I freeze. It’s coming from the other side of the crates.

  “Nah,” comes a second voice, “not exactly. Just some bratty kid trying to cause trouble. It’s no problem, we’ll catch them. Report said they’d be somewhere around here.”

  Strange. Those voices don’t sound like Operators. They’re too proper, the voices unusually smooth. They must be crew members.

  “We’re due to launch any minute. Shouldn’t we tell the Captain to delay?”

  “No. It doesn’t warrant that. If we launch before we find them, we’ll just shoot them here instead of passing them back to be shot by Operators.”

  My breath catches in my throat. So I was right. I’ll be kil
led if they catch me.

  I press my head against the crate, fighting to silence my thumping heart. What’s the plan here? I can’t safely make it to Orithyia like this. I certainly can’t make it back again. They’ll catch me eventually, unless I come up with a plan. So how do I intend to survive?

  My hand tightens into a fist. No. I came to see the stars and I have to do that. If they shoot me a split second later, so be it. As long as I catch a glimpse.

  So I sneak down the narrow gap between the crates, in the opposite direction to the voices. My foot catches and I stumble a little, catching myself on the corner of a metal crate.

  “What was that?”

  “Over this way.”

  Crap. I burst from the walkway and race down the length of the storage room, praying there’s a way out. They must hear my footsteps, because a split second later they’re crying out for me to stop. I’m under arrest, apparently. Not exactly new for me.

  Smugness flickers through me when I spot the door. Frankly, I’m a little sad this won’t be a chase. My genes might suck for the most part – but I’ve always been a fast sprinter. I take off down the nearest metallic hallway, catching the occasional detail as I go. White hallways, dozens of doorways, the occasional piece of furniture that looks more suited to a mansion house than a ship. Where am I?

  Footsteps still echo behind me. I leap down some stairs to my right, jumping down the hole between the railings. It’s a risky move that results in a rough landing and a rolled ankle, but it works. I’ve earned a healthy head start.

  I stand up. There’s only one door ahead of me, clearly labelled ‘Engine Access 284’. Hesitantly, I try the door. It’s unlocked.

  “Wait!” someone shouts from above me, “don’t go in there!”

  I burst through and slam the door shut.

  Instantly, it’s hard to breathe. The air is so hot it burns my lungs, and when I step out onto the metal floor, I can feel it scorching my feet through my boots.

  There’s a long, thin walkway leading down the middle of the room, with a number of spiralling stairways leading off. Several vats of what looks like molten metal fill the space, illuminating it with an eerie, hellish glow. I glance over the nearest railing. Between the vats are a number of huge cogs and bars – things that seem to be constantly churning and shifting together. I swallow hard.

  But then the door opens behind me, and a shadowed figure is on me in an instant. I catch sight of thick facial hair and a starched white uniform before pulling away – but not before his hand grabs at my wrist, pulling the glove off.

  I pray he hasn’t seen the scar, then turn and run.

  “Stop!”

  It’s hard to breathe. My movements feel sluggish, and I’m out of practice. I leap onto the nearest set of steps and try to navigate them, but the steam is thicker here. For a moment, I’m blind.

  Hands find me. They scrape my hair back from my head, wrapping it around their wrist. Another pair reach for my arms. I yelp and push both attackers away, falling onto the railing and promptly slipping through it.

  The first cog catches my head and the world turns black.

  I wake in darkness, dimly aware of my surroundings. The vat is right beside me, still emitting an intense heat. Above me, a strange cobweb of cogs and gears. Above that, the walkways. I must have slipped between the cogs and onto the floor below.

  Overhead, the crew member leans over the railing.

  “Should we call someone?”

  “Nah. No point. Intruder’s already dead.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. Those gears could probably crush a cow – they wouldn’t have much trouble with a little girl.”

  I sit up slowly, rubbing my head. No pain, no blood. Do they not see me? Do they think I was sucked into the whirring maw?

  “Shouldn’t there be blood or something?”

  “Look, there’s no way in hell a human could survive falling into the engine. And if they did, they’re probably half ripped apart by now. They won’t last long.”

  “So… we’re done here?”

  “Looks that way. Now let’s go. I don’t want to miss the Captain’s speech.”

  I wait until their footsteps have faded entirely before standing.

  I did it. I got away. The relief is incredible; I let out a small whoop and spin on the spot. It’s not exactly a huge success, but I didn’t get killed. That’s always a win.

  Now what?

  The thought gives me pause. Huh. I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m stuck in the engine room, right? To see the stars I’ll have to head up, and that means walking through those pristine hallways.

  I look down. I’m covered in muck and grease from the gears, and there are sizable patches of sweat under my arms. My carefully tied hair has fallen out of its band, now hanging loosely around my shoulders. There are several rips in my leggings. If I were to walk around like this, it would be obvious that I don’t belong. And if any of the crew had heard about a stowaway, they’d probably arrest me straight away.

  A tiny voice in my head pipes up.

  Are you going to think about what you’ve done? Who you’ve hurt? What you’ve left behind?

  I shake off the thought. There’ll be plenty of time to hate myself later. Right now, I need to focus. Lose focus for just a minute and I could be killed.

  The floor jolts, and suddenly everything around me bursts into life. That’s the launch sequence. It’ll probably take several minutes to start up – but this room isn’t a good place to be right now. I can already feel sweat streaming from my scalp; those vats are only going to get hotter if I hang around.

  I quickly find something called a ‘ventilation hatch’, and pry it open as best I can with my bare hands. There’s no way they won’t notice the damage, but hopefully they’ll put it down to shoddy design. After all, it was built on the Mainland. The hatch itself barely seems big enough for one person to crawl through. Still, there’s a small diagram on the wall next to it. If I play my cards right and don’t encounter any trouble, I should be able to get to the viewing platform without being spotted.

  This isn’t how it should be. I should be standing in that beautiful ballroom beside the person who’s chosen me as their Companion, thrilled to begin a new chapter of my life. I shouldn’t be scraping around in a dank, dirty tunnel, hoping nobody sees me in case they happen to have a gun. Unfortunately, I don’t have any choice.

  I take a deep breath and slip into the tunnel.

  It’s dark in here. I can breathe easily enough, and I do feel somewhat safe in my solitude, but it’s hard to keep track of where I am. Was there a left back there? Or was it a right? Am I still supposed to be climbing up? When did my sense of direction get so screwed up?

  I can tell that we’re flying now, gently rising through the sky. Soon, we’ll hit the outer layer and then we’ll be in space. Officially. The thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

  This must be it. This hatch right here.

  I push it open and promptly fall out.

  The first thing I notice is the thick, lush carpet under my knees. The next thing is the heady scent of something sweet, like vanilla or lavender. I must be in one of the fancier areas. I slowly lower myself to the ground, still staring at the carpet as I listen for sounds of any approach.

  “U-um…”

  I pause. The voice came from right in front of me. Slowly, I raise my head.

  The man before me could be a character pulled from one of Dad’s old storybooks. He’s tall and slim, with a deep tan and reddish-brown hair. As he shifts, I notice that it’s tied in a ponytail that runs down the length of his back. His face is long and youthful, dominated by amber-brown eyes. He fixes me with a stunned expression.

  Finally, I realise where I am. It’s a bedroom; one of the fanciest on board. It looks exactly like the ones in the brochure – gilded gold furniture, a four-poster bed, all gently lit by a small, delicate-looking chandelier. I lift my head and catch sight
of a large bouquet of flowers. That explains the smell.

  The man shifts and I snap back to reality. I stand up and brush myself down, praying that the filth on my clothes won’t ruin the crimson carpet.

  “I-I am so, so sorry about that…”

  My mind races. What do I say? How do I explain this away?

  His eyes narrow.

  “Who are you?”

  I stare blankly for a moment, suddenly unnerved by his size. The man towers over me, and though he might be slim, there’s a certain strength to him. If I had to fight my way out, I’d likely lose. With those long legs, he could probably outrun me too.

  “I’m from maintenance.”

  The lie falls out of its own accord, and I instantly wish I could pull the words back. Maintenance? What a stupid excuse. I glance at myself; still tattered and bruised and covered in dirt. We haven’t even launched yet – is it feasible that someone might be this filthy so soon?

  “I was just running a manual check on the ventilation tunnels before launch,” I say, arms flailing helplessly at my sides, “and I didn’t mean to…”

  The words trail off and I stare helplessly at the man. He sees right through me. Those amber eyes glimmer with curiosity.

  “You’re not crew, are you?”

  He looks me up and down, taking in every detail, then sighs.

  “Well, whoever you are, you’re all beaten up. Do you want some clean clothes to change into?”

  “O-oh, no. I’ll just be…”

  I turn towards the nearest door, hoping it’ll lead somewhere safe – but a hand locks itself around my wrist, holding me fast. My heart races.

  “Look,” he says firmly, “I’m not your enemy, necessarily. It’s pretty clear you don’t belong. I want to help you, if you need help that is. So either you tell me what’s going on, or I call security about the intruder in my room.”

  For a moment, I really listen to his voice. He’s curt and properly-spoken, but there’s a hint of sympathy behind the confidence. Those glossy eyes are just begging me for answers.