by Lisa Jade
“I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t forgive me.”
Damn. That just slipped out. Isaac fires a confused look at me.
“I’m sure they will, once you tell them what happened.”
“What happened here doesn’t change what I did back home. I get it. You’ve fought back against your father, and all the crap you’ve had to endure. You’ve broken free of something terrible. Me? I had everything I needed. I had a family. A Dad who loved me. A sister who’d do anything to make me happy. Even the occasional friend, who supported my ridiculous dreams. And I threw it all away. For what?”
He waves at the window, and the stars beyond it.
“For this.”
“The stars weren’t worth it, Isaac. I miss my family.”
“Why didn’t you mention this sooner? Maybe we could have got you home.”
“I didn’t want to just run away again. This is important. So I’m going to stay as long as I’m needed. No more running. Besides, there are other reasons to stay.”
I lean in suddenly, shuffling closer to Isaac. His eyes widen, but then I wrap my arms around him and he leans into the embrace. I haven’t said it before. Don’t even know if I can say it now. But I can feel it tugging at me. The love makes my skin tingle and my fingers feel warm, and the butterflies in my stomach instantly settle, like they did before. My fears fade away. This is one thing I can count on to always feel right.
But as I lean in for a kiss, incoming footsteps ruin the moment.
Finn strides down the hallway, slightly breathless. The gun swings from a strap around his chest. Behind him walk several crew members – the same ones he followed out earlier. He spots us and waves.
“Hey, guys! Got a second?”
I look at Isaac. My own disappointment is mirrored in his face. Was he waiting for me to kiss him? I smirk.
“Later,” I whisper, before climbing to my feet. Finn gives a mock salute.
“What’s going on?” Isaac asks.
“Your father is officially imprisoned. Thought you’d like to know.”
Isaac gives a short nod. If he cares about his father’s incarceration, he certainly doesn’t show it. Instead, his face seems hard again. I can see him building walls around himself, taking care to show the ‘right’ side to the crew members. I can’t imagine the pressure he must be under. I rest a hand on his arm.
He’s tired. I can feel it in his every movement. So I address the crew.
“Does anyone know how to operate the escape shuttles?”
One man raises his hand.
“I do.”
“Good. Come with me. I need you to show me how.”
“Quinn,” Isaac hisses, “what are you doing?”
“I think we should send the Captain home. His wounds have been treated and if he’s in the cell then he has a fresh change of clothes. He should be in perfect health. I see no reason to delay this.”
He bites his lip.
“We should ask Luci.”
“Do you really think she’ll want to say goodbye?” I ask, “or do you think she’ll want rid?”
He hesitates.
“I guess you’re right. But I still want to check with her.”
“Fine by me. I’ll head to the shuttle station with this guy. You talk to Luci, and if she thinks now’s the time, pick up the Captain and meet us there.”
“If she doesn’t want to?”
“Then I still need to know how to operate the shuttles, right? Now’s as good a time as any.”
I don’t explain the real reason, but I’m sure he knows. I’ve picked up on his discomfort, the lingering fear that his father might somehow return and take over again. I know Luci feels the same right now. If I can get him out of the picture, maybe they’ll both feel better.
Isaac nods, but only after firing a slightly threatening look at the crew member who’s offered to guide me. He’s still on edge; understandable enough. But I’m not about to get double-crossed. The crew member is a burly man with a shaved head and bushy brows – intimidating to look at, sure – but he seems genuine enough. I suppose it would be somewhat hypocritical of me to judge based on appearance, whilst covered in blood and scars.
“It’ll be fine,” I murmur, “just hurry, okay?”
He nods and turns, heading back into the ballroom. As he steps away I feel the air beside me grow a little cooler, and I fight the temptation to reach out for him. To draw that warmth back to me and curl up in it. The sense of comfort fades as the doors close behind him, Finn, and the rest of the crew.
I readjust my dress and fire a stern look at the remaining guy.
“So. What’s your name?”
“Andrew, Ma’am.”
I let out a barking laugh.
“Ma’am? Jesus, Andrew. I’m only twenty. Not to mention, definitely not classy enough for Ma’am. Call me Quinn.”
He nods.
“Yes, M… Quinn.”
“So, tell me about these shuttles.”
“Yes. We have twenty-three shuttles in total, all pre-programmed to head to the nearest settlement planet on the most direct route. Since we’re less than halfway to Orithyia, they should still be programmed to return to Earth.”
“Anywhere in particular?”
We’re walking now, both striding down the alabaster halls with a strange sense of purpose. It feels odd to be speaking so frankly with a member of the crew; like I should be concealing details and slipping in lies. But then I think of how I must appear. A bloodied, scarred criminal arrested for her part in the endless death aboard the Neptune. The same person who screamed bloody murder over the Intercom and walked into the ballroom less than an hour later, acting like it was nothing. I must seem bizarre as hell to him – in all honesty, I’m impressed he’s remaining so calm.
Andrew nods.
“Yes. The shuttles are typically set to find the transmission for Pyre. Since the city moves it’s not an exact science, so each shuttle needs to be manually controlled for a safe landing. All crew members are trained to safely land on One.”
“How many in each shuttle?”
“Up to fifteen, though there can be more in case of an emergency.”
“Hmm. That’s not enough for everyone, is it?”
He lowers his head, and the realisation hits. There aren’t enough escape shuttles because in an emergency, the Companions would be left on board to die. Anger whips through me, but I swallow back on it. He’s trying, at least. There’s an air of shame about him.
“How long does a shuttle take to get back to Pyre?” I ask. He seems only too happy to change the subject.
“From here? Three, maybe four days.”
I stop dead in my tracks.
“Days?! Are you joking?”
“N-no. The Neptune is a luxury cruise, so during the ‘daytime’ on board it just drifts at a normal pace. It does its serious travelling during the ‘night’ hours. A shuttle doesn’t do that. It doesn’t have to slow down for viewings, and it’s a lot smaller, lighter and more streamlined, so it’s less likely to encounter debris. The Neptune basically slingshots the shuttle out, and it flies straight back using its internal navigation system.”
I rub at my head, and he pushes on.
“Each shuttle is prepared with enough food, water and other supplies for a month, for fifteen people,” he continues, “so it’s just a case of dialling in the instruction code and beginning the countdown.”
“You know the code?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Andrew. What did I just tell you?”
We’ve arrived at the shuttles, though you wouldn’t know it – it appears to be just another hallway, still decorated in marble and monochrome. The only thing out of place are the doors, bulky, metal things surrounded by a series of keypads and screens. I peer through the glass pane in the nearest door, but can’t quite see inside.
“So you’ll help us send the Captain off?”
“If you need me to. But I have to ask. What ha
ppens when he returns to Pyre?”
“What do you mean?”
Andrew scratches the back of his neck, suddenly nervous.
“When he arrives on Pyre, he’ll report everyone aboard the ship. There’ll be warrants out for our arrests the second we arrive back on Earth.”
I pause, my hand resting on the shuttle door.
“Are you scared?” I ask. He shrugs.
“Look, I know when I’ve been beat. I’m not here to get political, or decide how the world should be. I’m just here to do my job – and if that means going along with whoever has the power, that’s fine by me. But I don’t much fancy a lifetime in prison for playing along.”
He sounds somewhat fed up as he speaks, and I realise he’s not really on our side. He’s not on the Captain’s either. He just wants to get through this without dying. Oddly, I respect that.
“I wouldn’t worry,” I tell him, “if he arrives on Pyre alone, who would realistically believe his story? And even if they do, there are hundreds of people aboard this ship who can tell a very different story. He may have a great deal of influence, but if he tries to use it against us, we have just as much to fire back at him. And that’s only if he does tell the truth. He may be too embarrassed at his failure. I know I would be.”
Andrew gives a short nod, then begins to tell me how to set up the shuttle. I listen as politely as I can, fighting the urge to yawn. This isn’t what I want to be doing right now. I’d much rather be with the others; but this will make things easier. Even if we don’t send their father away right now, this is another job on the list. If I learn this now, it’ll be one less thing for my friends to worry about.
A door shuts behind us, and I turn to see Isaac and the Captain stepping into the room. The Captain, apparently, is less stubborn than me – he’s changed out of his blood-spotted uniform and into the grey jumpsuit provided in the cell. He walks upright again, his shoulders back, any trace of injury gone. They must have taken him to the MedBay and healed the gunshot wounds there. He’s still firmly cuffed, though, and the same look of defeat is still apparent on his face. He fixes me with a cold look.
“Should have figured this was your idea.”
“It’s this or kill you,” I tell him, “and I’m not about to go for the latter. I’m not like you.”
He heaves a heavy, growling sigh.
“Enough. I have no interest in debating this with you. If you’re going to send me away, just do it.”
I notice that Isaac isn’t holding a gun. Did his father come willingly?
“What’s going on?” I ask him in a hushed voice. He shakes his head.
“Me and Luci have said what needs to be said. He’s ready to go.”
I fire the older man a look. Why is he so calm? Doesn’t he realise we’re about to jettison him into space? That he’ll be alone for days on end in a tiny metal ball, until he arrives back on Earth in shame? Where’s the anger I’ve come to expect from him? Where’s the hatred burning in his eyes? Why has it been replaced by a grudging acceptance, and an uncharacteristic willingness to go along with our orders?
Isaac must pick up on it too, because he shoots me a reassuring look.
“I’m sure he’s just tired or something. Don’t worry – he’ll hate us again tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” I smile, “I don’t know how I’d cope without his hatred.”
“How’s it going up here?”
“I think I’ve got the basics of how to use this thing. Andrew, you’ve been very helpful.”
The crew member’s eyes flit from me to the Captain, and he begins to sweat profusely. I can’t say I blame him. For someone who just wants to survive, this betrayal is probably nerve-wracking.
I tap the code into the keypad.
“Alright, I think that’s it. What do you think, Andrew?”
He nods.
“Looks right to me. You’re looking at a four day travel time, by the looks of things, followed by a manual landing once the shuttle reaches Pyre.”
“Sounds good to me,” says Isaac, “open the door, will you? I’ll take his cuffs off before we send him away. It doesn’t really seem fair to leave them on.”
He removes his father’s cuffs and to my surprise, the Captain doesn’t attack. Instead he just lowers his hands to his sides, watching the situation unfurling in front of him. He steps forward when instructed, standing just out of my reach. Isaac and I exchange uncomfortable looks, but I set my jaw. His tricks won’t work on me. I can’t feel sympathy for the man. This is happening, whether he likes it or not.
I wrench open the shuttle door and gaze inside. The shuttle itself seems to be a small, round ball. It lacks all the amenities of the Neptune. The floor, walls and ceiling are clad in metal. There’s a central console in the middle of the space, surrounded by a half-circle of low seating. The outer walls are packed with storage cupboards, the occasional prison-standard bed, and a couple of doors I imagine lead to bathrooms. The central console is already projecting into the air, mapping out the current location of the Neptune and its assumed journey home.
“Hey,” I joke, “it’s actually pretty nice in here. Better than standard housing on Four, I’d say. For the sake of a few days, I really don’t feel too bad about putting you in here. A little peace and quiet, you know? After all that’s happened, maybe it’ll be good to reflect.”
Isaac looks over my shoulder, still leaning through the doorway.
“Huh. Not bad.”
He steps back into the hallway and addresses his father.
“Are you ready?” he asks. No reply.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, turning to face them – but suddenly a strong hand finds my back and pushes me into the shuttle, where I hit the metallic floor hard. Pain shudders through me and I sit up, rubbing at my head.
“H-Hey! What the…”
“Quinn!”
Isaac. His voice is filled with panic – why? What’s going on? I leap to my feet and race toward the door, but someone blocks my escape. Andrew. All the doubt has gone from his face now, and his expression settles into something firm, cold and entirely familiar.
When he speaks, his voice is like ice.
“Would you like me to send her off, sir?”
The Captain’s voice booms, barely covering the sound of Isaac’s struggles.
“That would be wonderful. Well played, Andrew.”
“Thank you, sir. Some of us remain loyal.”
I leap towards the door, but it clangs shut. The sound is so final, so terrifying, that I’m momentarily overtaken by panic. I grasp desperately at the handle, pulling at it with all my strength; but it doesn’t budge. They locked me in.
The bastard locked me in!
I stare through the glass pane. On the other side, Isaac is still struggling. I can see twisting shadows, can hear pained groans as the fight happens just beyond my sight. Andrew stands by the keypad, his eyes shielded from view. Like he doesn’t want to watch the father and son fight it out.
I pound on the door and scream, dredging up every insult I can imagine to hurl at the men outside. How dare they trick us. How dare they do this – after all we’ve done to make things right. But the door holds firm, despite my entire body weight being thrown at it. I don’t have the strength to break out.
Isaac pulls away for a moment, slipping into view, and our eyes meet. My own fear is reflected back at me again, but it’s an entirely different fear from before. We’re not scared of being killed, or of the horrors aboard this cruise. No. This is a different fear, one that we may not have realised we shared until this moment.
We’re going to be separated.
I can’t lose him.
I scream his name, and his lips part to scream mine back – but then Andrew slams his hand onto the keypad, and I soar backwards into the shuttle. I hit the floor for a second time and scramble to my feet, ignoring the pain in my limbs.
Even as I race toward the door, I know it’s too late. I can feel the shuttle shifting
and curling beneath me as it rockets through space, soaring at such speed that it takes all my strength to stay upright. I grab the door handle and press my nose to the glass.
Nothing. The shuttle moves so fast that already, I’ve lost sight of the Neptune altogether. I look around wildly, checking every window I can find. But all I can see are stars, littering the inky blackness. They taunt me – close enough to admire, too far to reach. Just like the Neptune.
A dim voice in my head tells me that it’s too late. The shuttle has already been launched, and it can’t go back. Even if it could, I can’t drive it. I don’t know where I am. I have no way of getting back. No way of protecting them from the betrayal that’s coming.
I lean on the door and let out another scream. Tears stream down my face and onto my bloodstained dress. Suddenly, it becomes a little harder to breathe, and I can’t tell if the air is growing thin or if I’m yelling too much – but as I pound on the door, feeling the strength fade from my arms, I can’t stop. The tears come thick and fast, seemingly endless.
After all that. After everything we went through together.
I lost them.
Twenty-Nine
Four days. It feels like I’ve been here much longer.
I slump on the seating of the shuttle, eyes fixed on the map projected before me. It seems to suggest that I’m nearly home, and that manual controls will kick in at any moment. I dully remember that I don’t know how to control a shuttle, and that my attempt is more likely to kill people than result in a safe landing.
I heave a sigh and run a hand through my hair. It’s in tangles, the result of not bathing in four days. It’s not that the facilities aren’t there – they are – but I can’t bring myself to use them. Using them would be like admitting defeat, and accepting that I’m stuck. And well, I am. But I don’t really want to admit it. I feel guilty just picking at the food and water rations.
Four days aboard this shuttle, completely alone, hasn’t been easy. Any other time, I might have considered it peaceful. I may have even looked forward to it. But now? All I can think about is how I was ripped away from my friends. How I’m never going to see them again.
