Compete (41 page)

“How’s Gordie doing?” I ask.

“Dunno, I don’t see him all that much, but yeah, he’s doing pretty well. He loves being assigned to Networked Systems—or is it Network Systems? Whatever—now he’s discovered Hydroponics, so it’s all cool. He can hang out with the plants and draw them. Better than people. Better than girls, definitely. Wanna bet, he won’t even notice all the hot outfits on the girls tomorrow—”

“Gracie,” I say. “Please don’t overdo it, okay? Just don’t wear anything too outrageous that would make Mom worried.”

Gracie sticks her tongue out at me. And then just like that she goes serious. “I miss Mom . . .” she says softly, frowning.

“I know.” I give her a virtual finger kiss against the display screen. “So—see you tomorrow morning after eight—”

I want to add
“I love you”
but Gracie nods, frowns even more, and suddenly disconnects the call.

I linger, staring at the blank screen and wonder if my little sister is now crying.

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
oday is Zero Gravity Dance Day. Yes, it’s only the first of four such Dances scheduled throughout the months of our journey. One for each season, and this one’s Blue.

I wake up with the 7:00 AM gradual lights, and feel a strange zing of excitement. My own crisp and clean change of uniform is folded on the chair, ready for me.

Atlantean laundry facilities are spare and there’s always a line to use the super high-speed wash-and-dry combo units down at the end of each deck. But last night I managed to run my clothing through, and now I’m all set for today, with a fresh new bra and undies, and that very pretty starched and pressed looking uniform. As far as uniforms, we all have two sets each, so I get to wear my perfectly clean one in honor of Dance Day.

Just for a brief moment I regret not having a special dress to wear to this thing. And then I tell my stupid brain to cut it out.

I don’t dress up. I don’t dance. Remember, Gwen numbskull Lark?

Besides, after all the upcoming work in the Resonance Chamber today, I hardly expect my clean new uniform to still be fresh and unblemished. Oh, well.

I shower and put on the clean uniform, and consider doing something different with my hair. A stern, pasty-pale, tired girl looks back at me from the mirror, with long hair that’s starting to form waves already, even though it’s ratty wet. And so I decide to just do the ponytail for now. Maybe, when it’s time for the actual dance I can run back to my room and freshen up a bit, and maybe brush my hair and wear it loose. . . .

I rush through breakfast, seeing no one I know in the Officers Meal Hall, and then head directly for the shuttle bay that’s supposed to produce my sister. I don’t have to be anywhere until 9:00 AM when we begin work at the Resonance Chamber, so I hang out at the bay for at least fifteen minutes past eight, watching the crazy-busy traffic.

It is absolutely a madhouse today. Shuttles arrive and depart every minute, kicking up major wind in the launch tunnel, and the platforms are filled with Earth teens and Atlanteans. People carry bags and formal jacket suits and dresses neatly wrapped in plastic, and a few brave souls are already dressed up—which I think is insane, since they have a whole day to kill before the Dance. Some of the Cadets are wearing white dress uniforms, trimmed with gold braid around the collar and sleeves. I realize these must be parade uniforms of the Atlantean Fleet, and they look
sharp
.

Happy, rowdy teen noises come from everywhere, squealing, yells of greeting in various Earth languages, as people meet their dates arriving from other ships.

I watch a few couples kiss and linger, as they come together, and I think about Logan. I haven’t seen him for the last several days, so I wonder how it will be. . . . At this rate, I’m uncertain if he will even show up for the Dance.

Eventually, Gracie’s shuttle arrives. I see her come down the short ladder, and oh, wow—Gracie’s wearing the fancy white Cadet dress uniform! And right behind her I see a familiar hoverboard, and on it, Blayne Dubois. He’s hovering upright in the LM Form, dressed in his everyday grey uniform. Gracie turns to him to say something, and laughs loudly as she takes the last step off the bottom rung.

They both see me and Gracie waves. “Gwen!”

I move through the platform crowds toward them. “Gracie, there you are! And, wow!
Look at you!
”

Gracie beams at me and straightens up her posture. “You like?” Then she adds, “And no, there’s no uber-foofy blue prom dress outfit, I was just messing with you last night. . . .”

I notice her hair is tightly pulled back and pinned smartly up, and her usual raccoon eyeliner has been toned down to resemble the Atlantean fine-line kohl fashion—it actually looks good! And I have to admit, my little sister looks darn good overall. The sharp perfect creases of her uniform pants are flawless, her boots shine, shirt has no wrinkles, red armband is tied impeccably, Cadet Insignia star pinned in proper place, and the whole thing sits so well on her, that I am amazed. Even her pearl stud earrings are in good taste!

I make a move to hug her, and actually pause. “May I touch you?” I whisper with an open mouth.

In reply Gracie reaches out to me and we hug, carefully, but for a nice extended moment.

When we come apart, Gracie turns to glance at Blayne. “It’s so cool that Blayne happened to be on the same shuttle with me,” she says. “We got to blab!”

“Hey, Lark,” Blayne says to me, moving his longish hair slightly out of his eyes. “I guess I should specify
which
Lark, now,” he adds with a faint smile, without looking at Gracie.

We laugh.

“So what are you doing on the shuttle?” I ask him, as we start moving from the platform toward the exit and the interior of the ship. Blayne softly sings the note sequences to advance his hoverboard, still in the upright position, while he maintains his lower body hold on it. Wow, but he’s gotten good—it’s almost unnoticeable that he’s not actually standing.

“I don’t remember if I told you,” he says, “but the CP assigned me to teach LM Forms to a few of the Combat classes. Yeah, I know, pretty wild—I guess he thinks I’m ridiculously decent enough at it. So anyway, I get to go around the Fleet and do the classes on different ships.”

“Yeah,” Gracie exclaims. “Blayne was coming back from teaching, which I think is super awesome.” And then she looks at him and back at me quickly.

We get scanned by the security at the exit, then proceed to the interior.

“That’s super impressive, actually,” I say to Blayne. “But I’m not too surprised. You’re really rocking the LM Forms, Dubois.”

“I am, aren’t I?” he adds with a sarcastic smile, and barely looks from me to Gracie, who smiles widely at him. “Good thing they found
something
for me to do around here.”

“Aww, come on!” Gracie exclaims, and then punches Blayne on the arm, so that he says, “Oww.”

We laugh again.

“You guys had breakfast yet?” I ask.

They both nod.

“Have anything major scheduled for today?” I ask Blayne.

“Not in particular.” He shifts on the board slightly.

“Do you mind watching Gracie for a bit, while I go deal with the Resonance Chamber for the next hour? All the CCO Aides have to do acoustic tests in the room—”

“
Watching
me?” Gracie interrupts with outrage. “Hey! I’m not five! Blayne and I can just go hang out for a while, but it’s not like he’s babysitting me, because that’s a rotten thing to say, Gee Two!”

“Okay, okay!” I put up my arms. “Blayne, can you please go hang with Gracie for a while?”

“Sure,” he says, after the slightest pause. “I was actually going to get a nap and catch up on my reading, since we get the day off—”

“Some of us don’t get the day off,” I counter. “And besides, the Dance starts at seven, so not much of a day.”

“Since I’m not going,” he says. “I get the whole day and night all to myself. Pretty nifty.”

“
What?”
both Gracie and I exclaim simultaneously.

“You’re not going?” I say. “Don’t you want to see the amazing weightlessness and all that low gravity dancing? It’s supposed to be spectacular. Just the observable physics alone is worth it!”

“Nah,” he says. “Not my scene.”

“Not my scene either,” I say. “But still, fascinating—”

“Aww, come on, Blayne! Noooo!” Gracie whines. “You absolutely have to come! That’s crazy, you can’t miss this Dance! Noooo!”

Blayne sticks one hand in his ear. “Oww, oww,” he says. “Pitch too high, ruptured my eardrum, lower volume please, Lark Two.”

“Lark Two? WTF?” Gracie puts her hands on her hips and glares at Blayne full-on.

“Oh, jeez . . .” He shakes his head. But there’s just a tiny trace of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

“Okay, look,” I say to Gracie, because suddenly I get it.
Duh, what an idiot I am sometimes.
“He just doesn’t want to go, because, well, use your brain. He’s not going to be comfortable there, with other people dancing.” I don’t say it, but I hope Gracie figures out my meaning,
the boy can’t exactly dance without the use of his legs
.

But Gracie frowns at me, glances at Blayne and then back to me.

There’s a pause.

“In case it’s unclear, I’m not exactly fleet-footed,” Blayne says suddenly. It’s as if he’s read my mind.

Gracie continues to look from him to me. “No, no,” she says. “Both of
you
need to use
your
brains! It’s a
zero-gravity
dance! As in, weightlessness! So it doesn’t matter if he can walk or not. When it’s low gravity, he can sit it out, but he can definitely
dance
in Zero-G!”

Okay, wow. Gracie’s absolutely right.

Blayne and I stare at each other, then Blayne raises one brow. “Lark Two has a point.”

“Lark Two?” Gracie ruins the effect of her moment of brilliance and whines again. “Cut that out, that’s just way confusing! I’m Gee Four and she’s Gee Two, and no one’s Lark Anything. Want me to start calling you Bee One?”

“Too bad and too late. As of today, we’ve officially got a Lark Two,” Blayne says, with a sarcastic crooked smile.

“No, we don’t!”

“I dub thee Lark Two—”

“Okay, okay,” I say, realizing it’s almost 9:00 AM. “I’m going to be late to work, so please behave, Gracie—and Blayne, hang out with her please, okay?”

And as Gracie looks away momentarily, I mouth silently to Blayne,
“Watch her, I beg you!”

He raises one brow then rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, got it.”

And then he sings a tone sequence and deftly turns the board around in the corridor. “Come along, Lark Two, I’ve got an Imperial Command Ship to show you.”

I
leave them be and run to the Command Deck Two central hub, toward the Resonance Chamber. By the time I make it to the CCO corridor, I see the numbers of Atlantean crew hurrying back and forth, and can finally gauge the serious level of work that’s about to take place.

I haven’t noticed any doors to the Resonance Chamber before, but now I realize that they have been there all along—almost seamless floor-to-ceiling panels facing the junction where the corridor turns, and the corner CCO office stands.

They stand open now, and as I approach I see a softly lit great interior, beckoning me inside.

I walk past several crew members doing something to wall panels in the hallway right next to the entrance, and then I go in—or rather, I take a step. . . .

Holy lord in heaven, wow!

I am inside an immense sphere—a hollow ball the size of a football field.

How is that even possible? This spherical chamber is immense, it goes up hundreds of feet in all directions, and it’s at the center of this ship.

How huge must the ark-ship
itself
really be, to fit this sphere? I recall seeing what an ark-ship looks like on approach via shuttle. . . . But even so, the miles of hull going up and down and across don’t properly register. My mind cannot grasp the dimensions. I try to think of some kind of analogy, and the closest I imagine is a round fruit, like a peach, with a pit in its center—that would be the proportions of the Resonance Chamber to the rest of the starship. Except, the starship is not a sphere but a flattened saucer. . . . It occurs to me, the Resonance Chamber sphere probably defines the
height
of the ark-ship. Imagine if someone took a peach and flattened it under a press, but enough to leave the pit intact. That’s the starship!

As I’m thinking these crazy thoughts, some Atlantean pushes past me into the chamber, carrying things, so I get out of his way, and step inside.

Okay, let me explain what I’m actually stepping on.

The spot at the doors where I’m standing is the exact widest circumference level of the sphere. Half the dome is above my head, and the other half is below—an upside-down dome, or a great bowl, dropping off into a dizzying empty space, lit with a soft milky illumination that seems to have no source and is seeping through the smooth glassy panels themselves.