Rain on Neptune

by Lisa Jade

  I can’t save everyone; it’s not possible. But I have to save who I can. If I don’t… I’ll break.

  I turn to the other girl. She’s further away, just out of my reach – and her fingers still scramble at the wood. She fires a look at me, and instantly, the calmness vanishes. My own terror is reflected back at me, only more intense. Far more intense.

  Suddenly I’m fully aware of the discord around me – the shadows of objects soaring overhead, the dying screams – and it takes all the strength I have to step closer and hold my arm out.

  The woman stares, then gives the smallest, most imperceptible shake of the head. She’s scared. Damn, I don’t blame her. I’m scared, too.

  “Please.”

  My own voice is weak and pleading, nearly lost amongst the chaos. Some part of me wants to turn away, but I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot.

  If I leave her, she’ll die.

  If she dies, I’ll have failed again.

  “Hey!”

  I glance back just in time to see Isaac untie the end of the scarf and wrap it around the next stool, which is a little closer. My heart soars. That’s an extra two feet. Just enough.

  I shift over and scoop the woman up in my arms, ignoring how she protests at my touch.

  “Shut it,” I hiss, “I’m trying to help you!”

  As we move closer, Isaac throws out an arm for her to take.

  “This way!”

  She hesitates for a moment; and my hand slips. I catch myself with a yelp and press my head to the wood, trying desperately to stay calm. My arms shiver with the effort of remaining upright, and I can tell I’m not the only one who’s exhausted.

  Someone has to be trying to fix this. Some crew member on the Bridge has to be punching in the codes needed to save us. We can’t do this forever.

  I glance up. The woman has taken Isaac’s hand now, and has been pulled to safety.

  Any air has gone from the room, making me feel briefly light-headed. For a moment it’s hard to breathe, and my hands instinctively tighten around the scarf. If it comes to it, I can pull myself back with this. I can do this.

  “I’m coming back over!” I cry, but my voice is lost in the cacophony of screams. Anxiety twists in my gut. How many have died in the last few minutes? How many wounded? I feel the urge to look at the room, but I can’t. I’m too afraid.

  Suddenly I hear the shattering of glass, and the air is filled with shards. We simultaneously duck, somehow avoiding the glass and the bottles of liquor that immediately follow – but then a screech rings out, too close for comfort, and my eyes snap towards Luci.

  She let go.

  For the briefest, most heart-stopping of moments, I catch her eye. Her face is filled with unbridled terror, tinged with a grudging acknowledgement of death. It’s an expression I’ve seen before. My chest tightens.

  Cherise.

  I release the bar and allow myself to be pulled up. Narrowing my body, I’m able to move a little faster, like Isaac and Finn always did at the Stem. I close my eyes, imagining it. That’s all this is, right? The Stem, just turned upside down.

  Then my hand locks around Luci’s wrist, and the scarf snaps taut. Pain shoots up my arm and I bite back on a yelp. That had better not be broken.

  “Quinn!”

  She’s screaming in my ear now, her voice cracked and strained. I throw an arm around her, trying to pull her close, trying to help her climb down; but the movement is too much, and I hear the sound of tearing before the world starts to spin around us.

  We hit the ceiling with a painful crunch and for a moment, I wonder if we might be dead. But then I feel a thud, and my eyes snap open.

  I’m pressed against the now-closed dome, Luci clutched desperately to my chest. Her lips turn upward – the result of a momentary relief – but I just tighten my grip.

  “Brace yourself.”

  The gravity turns on and we plummet. I look up; and above me, I see the stars falling away overhead.

  Then, nothing.

  Heavy breathing. A hand on my shoulder, weight shifting above me.

  “Quinn? Are you okay?”

  The sensation of cold marble against my back. A general sense of chaos around me.

  “Hey!”

  Another shake, and my body comes to life. Pain licks through my back, my shoulders, my arm. Blood pounds in my skull. I let out a pained groan.

  “Ow…”

  It takes immense effort to force my eyes open; and when I do, I find I’m lying sprawled on the ballroom floor. My arms are spread out by my sides and my hair has fallen across my face.

  Around us, the world is losing its mind. I’m far from the only person slumped on the ground, by the looks of it. I turn my head a little and see a man lying a few feet away from us. Wide eyes stare at nothing. Ice has formed on his eyebrows and lashes. There’s no colour left in his cheeks. He’s not even breathing.

  I bolt upright and immediately regret my decision. I rub hopelessly at my head, wishing I could massage away the drumming, but it only grows louder.

  “Luci, are you okay…?”

  And then I look up, and she’s sitting just in front of me, tears streaming down her face. She watches me with wide, helpless eyes, her mouth slightly open. Then she lets out a small gasp, and her tiny weight barrels into me. Suddenly all I can smell is her perfume, and all I can hear is her fragile, terrified breathing.

  I quickly return the embrace, wincing a little at the soreness.

  “I’m sorry,” I breathe, “were you scared?”

  “You’re an idiot! Why did you do that? You could have been killed!”

  Her grip tightens, and I finally start to understand.

  “Hey, now. I just had the air knocked out of me. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

  She lets out a chuckle that sounds more like a sob. Behind us, I can hear the others. They cry out our names, then one another’s names, and a moment later they drop down on the floor beside us. Isaac rests a hand on his sister’s back, his face flooded with relief. I shoot Finn a confused look. Luci’s still got her arms around me, her face buried in my shoulder, and she doesn’t look ready to let go any time soon.

  “Is everyone okay? No injuries?”

  “We’re fine.”

  “W-what the hell was that?” Sabina cries, fanning herself as though she’s afraid to cry, in case her flawless eyeliner is ruined. Terri shakes her head.

  “Another attack.”

  I look around. The once grand ballroom is in tatters. Any furniture not nailed down has been pulled from the room – along with at least a dozen people. My gut clenches at the sight of those who remain. Many slump on the ground, nursing injuries or sobbing into the sleeves of their designer clothes. Others race around wildly, their arms flapping, calling out for people they once knew.

  I look at the corpse beside us. The ice covering him is so thick that I can’t tell if he was a crew member, passenger or Companion – but then someone races over to him and collapses against his chest, bawling indecipherably.

  Crew members circle the room, shouting orders at one another. Even through the pounding in my head, I can make some of it out. Check the corpses. See who’s still alive, then see to the wounded. Alert the doctors in MedBay. And for Christ’s sake, triple lock the controls to the barriers.

  Our ragtag group just sits in the middle of it all, Luci still hanging from my neck.

  “Hey,” I hear myself say, “you can let go now.”

  Her grip tightens.

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You’re safe now. They’ve restored the air and the gravity.”

  She pulls back for a split second, something between fear and anger flashing in her eyes.

  “What the hell were you thinking?!”

  “Would you have preferred me not to save you?”

  “Well, no. But....”

  “It’s fine,” I say, trying my best to sound casual. In truth my head still spins, and there are shivers of pain working their way d
own my arms. I peel her off me – then bite back on a cry as my injured wrist touches the ground.

  Luci backs off instantly, her face overcome with worry.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “No, I’m okay. Seriously.”

  Terri squats down next to me.

  “Let me see. I’m a doctor, remember?”

  “Really, Terri, I’m fine.”

  “Let her see,” Luci says, climbing to her feet.

  “I’m not trying to be tough. It’s really okay.”

  “Then shut up and do what she says.”

  I open my mouth to protest – then pause. Terri’s staring down at my arm, one hand clamped over her mouth in shock. I follow her gaze and grimace. I’d been too distracted to see what she was doing. I hadn’t given any thought to what else was hiding under my sleeve. The distinctive cross-hatch scar is fully exposed, and as my heart sinks, I know she’s already seen it.

  But then she tugs the sleeve down and shoots a small look my way. Her jaw sets.

  “You just twisted it. It’s fine.”

  I stare at her for a long moment, still stunned. Isn’t she going to ask? Isn’t she going to launch into a tirade about how I’m a criminal? How I must somehow be involved in all this?

  But then she glances at Sabina, who’s visibly shaken.

  “May I have your permission to go?”

  “Go?”

  “I’m a trained medical practitioner. I believe I could help right now.”

  Sabina looks around the room, eyes settling on someone nearby. They’re pumping away at someone’s chest, their voice raw from crying. Her face crumples.

  “Y-yes, of course. Go. Go help.”

  Terri gives a short nod and races away, leaving the rest of us a little stunned. I drag myself to my feet, focussing hard on my breathing. Now that I’m upright the pounding has faded to a dull thump, and the aches start to wear away. I gingerly touch my wrist, certain Terri was right. It’s pink and a little swollen, but nothing I haven’t experienced before.

  I look up at the women I pulled from the bar. They still cling to the side of it, their faces pressed against the wood as though they’re scared of being pulled away again. But they’re alive. They’re breathing.

  I didn’t avoid disaster – but I did something. Perhaps that’s enough.

  A quick glance at the others makes me worry. They’re all sweating and shaking, perhaps still reeling from the shock. Sabina slumps to the ground, clutching something to her chest. I frown. Her gorgeous, silky scarf is in tatters, ripped clean across and filthy to boot.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, desperate for any distraction, “I didn’t mean to destroy it. I’ll replace it, I promise.”

  “This scarf cost more than you’ll make on this trip.”

  I gulp – but then she looks at me with a weak expression.

  “Gotcha,” she whispers.

  We spend the next few hours trying desperately to clean up, despite the Captain’s orders to return to our respective rooms. Initially I wonder why Isaac and Luci aren’t jumping to follow their father’s orders, but then I catch Luci’s eye and understand. She’s scared to go back. Scared to be alone with her thoughts.

  So we slip in with the crew members and begin to gather the broken glass and rubble from the floor. All the bodies have gone now, taken to be disposed of or rushed to the various MedBays. We still don’t know how many died. A part of me doesn’t want to know.

  Luckily, some people left the ballroom before disaster struck. Thanks to the momentary delay in the gravity switching off, most people got to safety before it got really bad. But even those who were secured are injured; strained shoulders, head wounds. I think most of those taken away were being treated for shock.

  I shoot a sidelong glance at Luci. Shock seems to be the right word. She’s pale and quaking, though she moves her body with purpose. She sweeps the shattered glass into a pile, then wipes her forehead with the back of one hand. Worry squirms in my gut.

  “You don’t look so good,” I say, “do you want to go back?”

  “No.”

  Isaac stops at her other side, his brow furrowing in concern. I get it. Like me, he’s so used to Luci’s optimism, boundless energy and deafening voice. To see her so subdued is unnerving – and as we exchange small looks, I know he feels the same. He places a firm, long-fingered hand on her shoulder.

  “Come on. You need sleep.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Her fingers tighten on the handle of the broom, and her eyes suddenly darken.

  “Are you scared?” he asks, “I’ll walk you there if you’re worried.”

  “I said, I’m fine.”

  She pulls away from him but he holds fast, worry growing in his eyes.

  “You’ll pass out if you don’t stop. You know how much you overexert yourself.”

  She wrenches her arm from his grip, baring her teeth at him like some wild animal.

  “Damn it, Isaac. If I say I’m fine, then I’m fine. Stop fussing over me!”

  “I’m just worried about you. You seem shaken.”

  “Shaken?!” she barks, “who wouldn’t be shaken? People have died. People I know. People we grew up with. Of course I’m shaken!”

  She smacks her palm against her head, as though she could beat the fear away.

  “We’re two months into a two-year journey, and people are dropping like flies. If we don’t find out what’s going on, I don’t know if we’ll survive long enough to get to Orithyia!”

  With that she drops the broom, which clatters loudly against the marble floor, before turning tail and marching from the room. Isaac calls after her, but I touch his arm.

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “She’s freaking out,” he warns me, “I’ve never seen her like this before.”

  “I know. I’ll take her back to the room. Maybe I can get her to sleep.”

  “Be careful out there. It’s not safe right now.”

  I give a short nod and race after Luci.

  Luci’s already heading to the room when I catch up with her. Her card key swishes in her hand, which dangles down by her side as though utterly lifeless. I call after her, but she ignores me.

  The hallways that once seemed so grand and enticing are now littered with leftover rubble, the eerie silence broken only by the few people who still lurk in the shadows, their faces crumpled and their sobs shaking their shoulders.

  Luci barrels through her bedroom door and peels off her filthy clothing, no longer caring that I’m standing right behind her. She then slumps forward onto the bed, kicking the blanket aside and curling into a ball. Her head sinks into her hands and after a moment or two, her fingers tighten. Amidst the silence, I hear the quiet sound of hair follicles snapping.

  For a long moment I stand and watch, my mind blank. It’s strange. This has affected her so much, but I feel oddly numb to it. It’s terrible, sure; but I’ve witnessed so many terrible things. This doesn’t even crack the top five. I remind myself that life on One is supposed to be heaven. They live in utter, endless luxury. I recall how every mention of the snobs used to irritate me. They didn’t deserve a single iota of my sympathy back then.

  But then I hear Luci’s gentle sobs, and I’m brought back to reality with a painful bump.

  She’s terrified. Everything is crumbling around her – and suddenly, all the little issues she used to ignore are building up. It’s harder for her to forget about her father’s cruelty, about the risk she’s taking keeping me around, about the steadily worsening disasters on board this ill-fated cruise. It’s too much.

  “Luci…”

  I feel a pang of sympathy and delve into it, allowing my own fears to take hold for just a moment. The thought that I’ve destroyed my family. Risked my life. Led to the death of a friend. And even now, I’m failing to support someone who needs me.

  I sit beside her and softly touch her hair. Any other time she might have pushed me away with a laugh, insisting that she’s no
t an animal to be petted – but this time, she just lets me do it. She doesn’t have the willpower to resist.

  “I’m sorry.”

  My voice echoes a little in the silence. She ignores me.

  “I’m sorry that this is happening,” I push on, “and I know you feel helpless.”

  “You have no idea,” she says weakly, “you actually tried to help. You saved my ass.”

  “Hardly. We were both half a second from dying. If the crew hadn’t closed the dome…”

  Her expression falters.

  “Y-you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  She looks at the floor, then at me, and sighs.

  “I woke up a second before you, you know. I could hear screaming. I heard Isaac shouting my name. I sat up, and everything was just... awful. And then I realised what you had done. You’d risked your life to save me – and you were just lying there.”

  “I had the wind knocked out of me, is all…”

  “That’s not the point, Quinn. For a split second, I didn’t know if you were alive. And then I looked around, and I realised that it wasn’t just you. We were surrounded by death. I couldn’t escape it.”

  Her hand finds mine and I give her fingers a small squeeze. She doesn’t acknowledge it.

  “My whole life, I’ve been told I’m untouchable. Every one of my friends will live for nearly a century, and nobody will ever get sick. Even the worst injuries can be brushed off, thanks to the medical inventions from Orithyia. So I’d never thought about dying before. Not really.”

  I try to plaster an understanding look on my face, but it comes across as false. I’ve always been around death. It’s one of the first things I learned about. She heaves a stressed sigh and hangs her head.

  “We’re trapped on this ship, and I’m terrified. I don’t want to die – not so young, at least – and I don’t want to lose anyone. If Isaac or Sabina were to be killed… if you were to die trying to save me…”

  Her tears come thick and fast and I pull her to my chest, allowing her to cry against my already-ruined dress. She feels so small and fragile in my arms, like a child terrified of the dark. I rub at her shoulder, unsure what to say.