Rain on Neptune

by Lisa Jade

  He fixes me with a stern glare.

  “Yes, I do. But it’s fine. Luci and I are probably the best people to protect you. Nobody will suspect a thing.”

  Suddenly, Terri pipes up from beside me.

  “They will if you keep talking out loud.”

  We both pause. Crap. I’d forgotten she was there, standing eerily silent just within earshot. She fires me a small smile.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t know what you’re up to, and I don’t care – but you should probably talk in private.”

  I swallow hard.

  “T-thanks.”

  “Yeah,” Isaac grumbles, still a little sullen. I want to ask what the deal is with his family – why Luci is so false and syrupy around their father, why he seems irritated and even slightly afraid of the guy. But I bite back on the questions. He’s reassured me that I won’t be killed. That’s enough; prying any further would only cause trouble.

  After several hours of dancing Luci staggers off the dancefloor, pushing her luscious hair back. I press a cold drink into her hand and she grins.

  “Thanks, Quinn. You’re the best.”

  “I know.”

  “Have you danced?” she asks, “Companions are allowed.”

  I wince.

  “Not my thing. No natural rhythm, you know?”

  “Oh, boo. I think you’d have fun. Did you at least convince Isaac to get out there?”

  I glance back at him. He’s slumped in one corner, an expression of polite boredom playing on his otherwise handsome features. Like he’s on countdown, waiting for the clock to tick over so it’s officially acceptable to head for the door.

  “Wow,” Luci sighs, “what put him in a bad mood?”

  “Your father.”

  She blinks.

  “He came over? Oh, no. Tell me Dad didn’t threaten him.”

  “Threaten him?”

  Her face fills with sadness.

  “You know, never mind. You’re probably better off not knowing.”

  “Is there something I should know?”

  “It’s a family thing,” she says firmly, “kind of an… ongoing conflict. But it’s fine. As long as no punches were thrown.”

  I smile at the joke, but her glum expression suggests that she may not be kidding. My chest tightens.

  “Is everything okay? There’s something weird going on.”

  “Family crap. We all have it, right?”

  I look away, not wanting to tell her just how right she is.

  After another half hour or so, the same tinny voice from before rings out.

  “Ahime.”

  Everyone falls silent. That’s a name that requires no introduction or explanation. We all know exactly who Ahime is. I glance at the others. Luci’s head hangs a little, dipped in subconscious reverence of the person about to enter. Even Isaac’s bored expression has faltered somewhat, betraying his true feelings. He’s intrigued too, in spite of himself.

  I turn towards the door just as it’s cracked open – and bite back on a gasp.

  She’s just as she was on the video feed. She wears a deep plum ballgown threaded with silver, mostly covered by her endlessly long, jet black hair. If it wasn’t tied back, it would likely reach her knees. There’s a delicate tiara of bronze stars across her brow, and her face is painted with intricate swirls of white. And those eyes – those ferocious eyes burn across the room, permeating some deep, unknown part of me. One blue, one green; back in the old days it was considered a mutation, but now, it stands for beauty. Heterochromia is increasingly rare – and when a genetic trait becomes rare, it becomes special.

  Ahime gives the room a long, sweeping look, then dips her head in acknowledgement. No words, of course; she’s never been known for her speeches. She’s known for having the kind of presence that both terrifies and inspires, and that’s something I suddenly feel I could vouch for. Perhaps it’s something instilled into me from childhood, or maybe it’s something more instinctive, but I feel an undeniable rush of respect. For her perfect genes, her perfect demeanour. Her perfect life.

  But then she steps into the room, and the crowd parts for her. Several crew members trail behind her. One darts off to obtain a drink. Another clutches a coat, ready to pass it to her at a moment’s notice.

  “Strange,” I mumble, “I’d have thought she’d have a Companion.”

  “She does,” Luci says, “right there. How haven’t you heard of Angelique?”

  As they step closer, I shuffle forward to see. I’m curious to know who on Three was good enough to be chosen by Ahime. She’ll be the best of the best, no doubt. Curiosity propels me forward, despite my better judgement.

  Ahime glances back at someone and waves, allowing them to step into view.

  My blood runs cold.

  Mom.

  Twelve

  My heart aches – though with what, though, I’m not entirely sure. Longing? Anger? Hatred?

  I take in the woman before me, drinking in every detail. In many ways, she’s just as I remember; tall and pale, with soft blue-green eyes and a hip-length sheet of straight, golden hair. I recognise her slightly hooked nose and long limbs, and that always-infuriating air of maturity.

  But at the same time, it’s not her.

  ‘Angelique’ is adorned with glittering jewels. Her body is wrapped in a long white gown that makes her resemble an angel from some ancient painting. Her hair is half-braided down her back, with small, fresh flowers entwined into the knot. She surveys the space around her with a look of polite indifference, as though everything she lays her eyes upon is below her.

  Even so, it’s unmistakable; that’s the woman who raised me. In an instant I’m back at the Drop-off, sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket as she points up at the sky. She’d taught me about the stars, inspired me with stories and legends of the settlement planets. Back then, she wasn’t Angelique. She was Angela, or Angie to her friends.

  “Quinn, what are you doing?”

  I don’t know. My feet move of their own accord, propelling me towards my estranged mother. The crowd doesn’t part so easily for me; people are obsessed with catching a glimpse of Ahime. Some part of me recognises that this is stupid beyond words – a lowly Companion should never step this close to Ahime, even if they’re not trying to lay low.

  But I can’t help it. The motion is automatic. The voice screeches to stop, but I can’t. All I can think about is the pain this woman caused when she left. I can remember seeing my Father sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands, crying harder than I’ve ever seen a man cry – and stopping the instant he saw me, determined not to show weakness to the person who needed him most.

  It’s her fault.

  I don’t know what I want from her. An answer, an explanation. Justification for why she abandoned us. An apology, even. Maybe I just want her to see me – to be forced to look directly at those she’s hurt. Perhaps empathy would be too much to ask, but if I can disturb her heavenly world for even a moment, it’ll be enough.

  And then I’m there, standing directly in front of her, and our eyes meet across the clearing.

  For a long moment, her expression doesn’t change. Though she slows to a stop in front of me, there’s no movement in her face, nothing to betray her thoughts. Then – a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

  Her carefully blank expression infuriates me. I open my mouth, but no words come out. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to feel.

  And then she steps forward, walking past me with the same steady, regal gait she had used before. Her eyes sweep over me, past me, like she didn’t see me at all. Like I’m not even here.

  Suddenly, the anger comes rushing back. How dare she?! After all she’s done to us – to me – how dare she pretend I don’t exist?

  And my hand moves too, snapping around and holding her wrist. She halts instantly, then slowly turns to face me. Her face is still perfect and expressionless, like I’m just dust on the floor. Some
thing with no purpose, no meaning, no consequence. A growl builds in my throat. I want to scream. Why aren’t you acknowledging me?!

  But then she rips her arm from my grip, and in a single movement, lands a sharp slap on my face. The sound echoes and pain shoots through me – I stagger backward, stumbling a little from the shock.

  What just happened?

  Angelique looks me up and down, then wrinkles her nose in disgust.

  “Do not touch me.”

  Hands find my shoulders, and familiar footsteps clatter behind me.

  “I am so, so sorry about that,” Luci pleads, “I think there was some kind of misunderstanding – please forgive us.”

  Angelique simply frowns. A moment later, Ahime steps closer. She eyes the situation with curiosity, and eventually her gaze finds Luci.

  “Is this your Companion? You should keep her under control.”

  “I will. Of course, I will. Please, accept our apologies. I’ll make sure she knows better.”

  “See to it that she does. While both Companions, there is no familiarity to be found between these two. Please remind her that she is an employee here – not a guest.”

  Under normal circumstances, Ahime’s stern words would make me feel about two inches tall. But now, I feel nothing but shock. She struck me. Even as a child, the worst tantrum didn’t lead to her striking me. The Angela I know would never do that.

  Hot tears fill my eyes, and suddenly I can’t stand to be in this room a moment longer. Suspicious or not, who cares? I can’t look at her face. I bury my face in my hands and race from the room.

  “Quinn!”

  “I’ll go after her.”

  I slam the door behind me and keep running.

  I’m crying in a random stretch of hallway when Isaac finds me, slumped against a window behind a thick, velvet curtain. I sit with my head against my knees, fighting to steady my breathing. I ignore the hot liquid streaming down my face.

  So much for not crying over her.

  “Quinn.”

  Isaac’s voice is unsteady. Makes sense. He doesn’t know who she used to be. We look so different, there’s no way he’d know. All he’s seen is erratic behaviour and a sobbing mess.

  He drops down next to me on the window sill, then places a long-fingered hand on my knee. I resist the urge to lean into his touch.

  “Quinn, what the hell happened back there?”

  He’s trying not to be angry, I can tell. We both know that was dangerous – stupid, even. If I hadn’t drawn enough attention to myself already, this should do it. Antagonising the most powerful person on board is a damn good way of getting noticed. But he seems to be biting back on his irritation, for now.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I eventually blurt.

  “If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be crying.”

  “It’s nothing you can help with.”

  He hesitates.

  “I could listen. Maybe that would help.”

  “No.”

  He sighs and looks around the hallway, as though seeking inspiration. It’s only been two days, and he’s still not quite sure how to deal with me. He doesn’t know what will make me talk. Or if he should want me to. I pause. He’s so nice to me; nicer than I deserve. After all the people I’ve hurt, there’s no reason he should be here now, comforting me. I’ve been so ungrateful. Acting like I don’t trust him, when he’s given me every reason to have faith.

  “S-she’s my mother.”

  He pauses.

  “Who?”

  “Angelique,” I spit, toying with the word. It sounds false, phony; a fancy-sounding nickname that stinks of inauthenticity.

  “Um… are you sure?”

  I fix him with a steely glare.

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure I know the woman who raised me.”

  “I’m just saying… you look nothing alike.”

  I scoff.

  “You’re not the first to say it, and you won’t be the last. Unfortunately, I inherited my Dad’s less-than-stellar genetics.”

  Isaac bites his lip, clearly full of questions he’s too afraid to ask.

  “It’s okay,” I mutter, “you can ask whatever you like. I won’t be mad.”

  “It’s just… Angelique has been Ahime’s Companion for years now. For as long as I can remember.”

  “Fifteen years.”

  “So, why the reaction? Didn’t she recognise you? What the hell is going on?”

  I heave a sigh. The last thing I want is to dredge up the memories I’ve spent years blocking out. I’m so used to my family history being common knowledge, and it’s strange to have to explain it.

  “My mother – Angela, she used to be called – was a genetic anomaly. She was more intelligent, more beautiful, healthier… not like the rest of us on Four. So naturally, when she married my Dad, their love was considered...”

  “Controversial?” Isaac offers. I shake my head.

  “No. Insulting.”

  “Huh?”

  “Everyone believed that Angela’s potential would be wasted if she stayed with Dad. That she would never amount to anything. Any children she had would miss out on her great genetics, because they’d be contaminated by his. So when I was born, things were hard for them.”

  I close my eyes against the memory.

  “People considered me a failure of genetics. I wasn’t smart or beautiful like her. I was just like my Dad. As I got older, people stopped being so bothered by it, but…”

  I trail off again, wringing my hands together. It’s so odd to regale someone with this story – but there he is, still listening intently.

  “When I was just a kid, my mother left as a Companion on a Gene Cruise,” I push on, “she planned to see the stars and come back after her four years were up. Five years passed without hearing from her, and everyone kept telling us that she had found a better life elsewhere.”

  “But then?” he asks, his voice lilting with hope.

  “Then, she came home in the dead of night. Presented my Dad with two contracts to sign. One dissolved their marriage. The other turned over all parental rights to him.”

  He gasps.

  “She disowned you?”

  “Yes. I was watching, you know. I stuck my head out the window as she left and called after her. She just smiled and walked away. We never heard from her again.”

  The tears have stopped now. Perhaps I’ve just become so numb to the whole thing that it’s easy to recite it. Isaac watches me with a combination of pity and intrigue, like he has a million more questions but not the confidence to ask them.

  “When I saw her, I had to see her,” I croak, “I had to know if she would acknowledge me.”

  “That explains it. Did you know she was on board?”

  “No. Like I said, I’ve not heard anything from her in years.”

  “Well,” he sighs, “she’s had her own story. Most Companions accompany a passenger for a single trip, and then they’re free to do whatever they like. But Angelique was allegedly so incredible that Ahime insisted she become her Companion in all things. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without Angelique at her side.”

  He shoots me a sidelong glance.

  “I can’t believe she’s your mother.”

  “Believe me. Neither can I.”

  His face creases.

  “And she slapped you.”

  I rub at my face, surprised to find that it’s still sore. She wasn’t messing around with that slap – she meant business.

  “I didn’t expect that. She’s never hit me before.”

  “Lucky.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing. Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just angry, I guess. Also, it’s dawning on me that I’ve probably drawn a whole heap of attention to myself. As if the disaster in the Oasis wasn’t bad enough.”

  I chuckle.

  “Think I’ll survive the week?”

  He doesn’t laugh. Instead he just sits there, his gentle eyes filled with con
cern. I get it. If I get caught, so does he. When he speaks again, his voice is softer than ever.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “That’s sweet to say, really, but if they find out- “

  “They won’t. And if they do, I’ll keep you safe.”

  He fixes me with a solid look now, determination playing in his eyes.

  “I like you, Quinn. I won’t let them lay a hand on you. Just so long as you trust me.”

  I open my mouth to object – but I’m momentarily distracted by the view out the window.

  I press my hand to the glass and stare.

  We’ve come within viewing range of Neptune. The planet swirls below us like a pristine blue marble, so smooth that if I didn’t know better, I’d think it were a trick of the light. It casts an eerie light around the ship, too, somehow bathing us all in a gentle cyan glow. And just like that, all my anger dissipates.

  Sometimes, I’ve doubted my own love for this stuff. I’ve wondered whether I wanted it just because she did, because it reminded me of her. Something to cling to when I felt most alone. But no – even now, with any pleasant memories scattered to the wind, I can feel it. Utter, endless joy at the sight before me.

  My family might be broken; but my love for the stars, that’s real.

  Isaac is looking too, his eyes wide. Like he’s just seeing it for the first time.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” I breathe.

  “I hadn’t thought about it before,” he says, “but yeah. It really is. How are we even seeing this?”

  “Long exposure windows. They work a bit like cameras, so we can see every distant light source, even if they’re not visible to the naked eye. Don’t ask me exactly how it works – that’s just what the leaflets said.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  I clear my throat.

  “Did you know? There’s a theory that the atmosphere on Neptune is just right for some pretty weird happenings.”

  “Oh yeah? Do tell.”

  “Well… it can rain diamonds.”

  “Wait, really?!”

  “It’s just a theory,” I add, “but technically, it could happen. Imagine if that happened on Earth – one of the most valuable substances around could be as common as water. It would change everything back home, but out here, it’s normal. Out here, the unthinkable becomes normal. Even mundane.”