Lifer (19 page)

“Yes.”

“What plan?” he asks with a smirk. He’s messing with me.

But why? He’s far too pleased with himself and far too unconcerned about the challenge ahead. Maybe ice does flow in his veins.

“How’re we getting to the Control Room?” I whisper.

“The Control Room?” He repeats dumbly.

The words curl around me like a snake, twisting and squeezing so it’s hard to breathe. Due to the lack of food, I fight back a dizzy spell. I fold my arms. “Where are we going?”

He reaches out and gently angles my head to lean close to my ear. The fine hairs on my neck rise and I don’t dare move so as not to miss a thing. Up close his smooth skin’s perfect, his gray eyes full of secrets. I wonder if he thinks I smell better than I did before using the clean room.

He exhales. “Manufacturing.” He drops his hand and walks down the hallway, leaving me standing open jawed in his wake.

What the hell?

I’m tempted not to follow. To let him go to Manufacturing, or whatever it is he’s doing, alone. Of course that would leave me standing in a hallway on Fishie level, a place I’m not supposed to be unattended.

He doesn’t look back.

Damn him, he knows I have to follow. Even if regulations didn’t require it, my lost brother’s memory does. Feeling more like a servant than I ever did washing dishes or scrubbing floors, I force my feet to move. He doesn’t look at me in the elevator or as we walk through the different Manufacturing areas.

Each area’s divided by clear partitions to dampen the noise of the machinery inside and contain any fire outbreaks. Food Processing’s burnt remains add a trace of smoke to the air. The biggest ship disaster of my childhood was this fire. The Fishies allowed us to refurbish the sprinkler systems afterwards, but it was easier to convert another part of the Manufacturing quarters than try to reclaim anything left from the fire.

The floor vibrates beneath my feet and I taste grease on every breath, making my empty belly churn. The work down here’s mostly automated recycling, but Lifers oversee everything under the management of a Fishie.

Davyd stares straight ahead, not sparing the men and women working in the humid, sweaty conditions a glance of sympathy. I offer those I know a surreptitious wave and understanding grimace. These are some of the least favored posts on the ship.

At Clothing Technology, Davyd activates the scanner and enters between the sliding doors. As I step inside after him, I’m already searching for Kaih. Boring uniform repairs occupy the majority of workers here but a few Lifers work almost exclusively to create the casual wear of the Fishies and Nauts.

Kaih’s one. If not for the Upheaval and her great-grandmother’s crime, Kaih would’ve been a designer. Her flair for shapes and colors is unmatched on the ship. With the ball to celebrate the New Year changeover approaching, there are several Fishie females here before us, checking on the progress of their outfits for the biggest social event on the Pelican.

A Fishie girl stands almost naked on a box in the center of the room with her back to us. Her long brown hair trails to her waist over plump curves, a stark contrast to her perfectly white skin. I haven’t seen her in over a year but I know it’s Tesae.

Tesae’s two years older than me and we never mixed as we went through the training rooms. But she’s infamous for losing every training room fight and for being the first to the side of any male victor, where she would bat her eyelashes and thrust out her well-developed chest. As the best fighters in our age group, Samuai and Davyd were two of her favorites.

Even if I weren’t a Lifer, and therefore beneath her in every way, she would’ve hated me because Samuai didn’t.

She says something in low tones to the Fishie woman who’s with her and then turns.

Her eyes narrow and her thin mouth presses to a flat line when she recognizes me. “You.”

Then she spots Davyd and her mouth curves into a simpering smile. “Oh, I’m just so embarrassed,” she purrs, without making a move to cover any of the flesh exposed by her tiny pink bra and panties. If anything, she arches her back to more prominently display her curves.

Davyd doesn’t appear to notice, instead approaching Kaih, who’s walking in from the storeroom next door.

I smirk at the dismay on Tesae’s face, but fail miserably to hide it.

Kaih frowns at me over Davyd’s shoulder, biting on her nails as usual. I attempt to school my features into subservient neutral. But not fast enough. Tesae folds her arms and glares. “I’d like some privacy while I’m being fitted.”

Kaih moves to intervene. “You’re welcome to return to one of the fitting rooms.”

“No,” says Tesae. “I want her to leave.” She points a silver-painted fingernail at me.

I back away automatically. If a Fishie says go, it’s not prudent to wait. I don’t even know why I’m here.

Davyd steps between us, facing Tesae. “Use a fitting room.”

“But—” begins Tesae.

He takes a single step toward her. “A fitting room.”

There’s no questioning the authority in his tone. He turns his back on Tesae, dismissing her. Twin spots of angry color appear in her cheeks but she doesn’t dare argue, storming toward the rooms in a dramatic huff. Davyd doesn’t see because his focus is on Kaih. “You’re the best here?”

She hesitates, shooting me a confused glance, before nodding slowly.

“Good. My mother demands we get a dress. You will help us.”

We
get a dress?

“Why isn’t the lady here?” Kaih asks the question I’m thinking.

Davyd looks at me then. He holds my gaze for a long moment and as usual I struggle to look away. He returns his attention to Kaih, but not before I catch amusement lurking in his eyes. “The dress isn’t for my mother.”

I go still. I can’t let myself believe it.

“For Asher?” Kaih whispers the question.

In the heartbeat it takes for him to answer, I don’t even know what I want him to say. I’ve never wanted to be a girl like Tesae with her long hair and fancy clothes.

Really? Not even when you thought about her and Samuai together at the End of Year ball?

With Samuai gone, nobody’s left I want to impress.

“Mother requires our servant to be more suitably dressed,” Davyd confirms.

I don’t know whether the gasp I hear is mine or Kaih’s. It doesn’t matter. The blood rushes from my head and the room begins to tilt. It’s kind of funny how wide Kaih eyes get and how the green wall behind her begins to go fuzzy.

Concern squiggles across her face and she steps toward me. “Asher, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I begin. But my knees have other ideas. I sway. Black teases my vision.

Strong hands grip my shoulders. Davyd. He holds me upright when without him I would fall. I pull myself together and shake free of his touch. Hopefully the smile I force onto my face appears less shaky than it feels.

“I’m fine,” I repeat.

I resist lifting my hands to where he touched me. Why did he catch me when it would have amused him to let me crumple at his feet?

I read his face but his expression’s ice. “The dress must be completed before the ball.” He exits without looking back.

Kaih clutches my hands. She’s doing a little jig. “You’re going to the ball, you’re going to the ball!”

“I can’t believe it.” The ball’s the stuff of many whispered stories in the lower levels of the ship. It’s the only time anyone sees the Nauts away from their Control Room and their most private quarters on the top level of the ship, where Lifers aren’t even allowed to clean.

“It’s the ball.” She lowers her voice. “You’ll be the first Lifer to attend as a guest.”

Where someone else might be envious, there’s only excitement from Kaih. Something closer to dread churns in my belly. I never wanted to be the first anything and I won’t be welcome. The divide on the ship between the Lifers and everyone else has existed for three generations. With our final destination approaching, it’s not time to mess with the order of things.

I’m a servant, while Lady has already broken protocol by having me stay in her dead son’s room, but having a dress made is a public statement. Of what, I’m not sure.

Most Fishies, like Tesae, plan their outfits for months. I don’t know what Lady expects Kaih to create in a few days. Although if anyone can, it’s Kaih. She tugs on my hand, dragging me toward the storeroom. “Come with me.”

Tesae stalks from one of the fitting rooms as we pass. She’s fully clothed now, in a green casual dress that hugs her figure, and she looks pissed.

Seeing me with Kaih, she freezes. “A lesser servant fitted me so you two could gossip? There will be a report with your name on it.”

I don’t want to get Kaih in trouble. “We’re on Lady’s orders, miss.” I bow my head. “Sorry.” I choke out the word.

Some of the stiffness drains from Tesae’s shoulders. “I’ll check to make sure you’re telling the truth. Now do my shoes.”

She points her untied lace-up slipper in my direction, daring me to refuse and prove the subservient act is just that. If it weren’t for Kaih, if it weren’t for the greater goal of Samuai and Zed, if it weren’t for the rebellion, I’d tell her where she could stick her slipper.

Instead I drop to my knees and wind the ribbon carefully around her ankle, tying it in the fashion Lady favors. I keep my breathing even and resist tightening the ribbon any more than necessary. Some things are more important than this girl’s petty games. But it’s Fishies like her who make the rumblings for rebellion grow louder with every passing day.

I finish and stand, keeping my gaze on the floor. Without another word, Tesae leaves the clothing tech room and Kaih exhales in a long sigh. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Forget her. She was probably pissed because she wanted you to oversee the fitting.”

Kaih flashes a smile. “Probably. She wants some terrible red leather number that would look better on a sofa.”

Everything’s recycled from somewhere. An image of the plush furniture in Lady’s apartment springs to mind. “Was it a sofa? Before?”

Kaih giggles, quickly covering her mouth when one of the Fishies across the room looks our way. “Probably.”

Salvaged pieces of material fill the storeroom. There are machines to recycle cloth from the thread components but sewing actual scraps is preferred because of the power the machine takes to run.

Kaih’s slender hand on my arm stops me inside the door. I back up and nearly bump into a big pile of material.

“Careful,” she snaps with more force than I’ve ever heard from her.

I frown.

“Don’t move,” she orders.

For so much of our lives I’ve been the leader, but this is her thing and I do as I’m told.

Kaih stands in the middle of the room. She’s perfectly still. Except for her eyes. They dart from me to the material and back. “Have to consider the hair…Narrow…No bust to speak of…” she mutters.

I squirm under her professional eye and I stop myself covering up.

Finally she claps her hands together. “I’ve got it.” She drags a bundle of fabric from the bottom of a towering pile. It’s white. Plain, ordinary white. “What do you think?”

“Looks…great?”

Instead of being upset, Kaih laughs. “Wait ‘til you see it.”

She takes my measurements in a whirl of prodding and poking. When she’s done, she rests her hands on her hips. “Do you want input or can I create something that will actually look good?”

“I get to choose?”

“Yup.”

I should tell her to design me something to blend in, so no one will notice the Lifer girl in the corner. But that will never happen. An image of Davyd’s knowing grin appears in my mind. I imagine blowing him away and putting him off balance for once. “Make me look good, I guess.”

I don’t wait long before Davyd returns to escort me back to the upper levels. He’s silent as we walk together toward the elevators and says nothing as we step inside. He scans his wrist and presses the button for the Fishie apartment level. The doors close.

In two steps he’s wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against the length of his body. My breath escapes in a hiss as his hands brace my shoulders. His gaze hooks me and I’m unable to look away. My heart beats like it’s trying to get out of my chest, closer to him. “What the hell?” Is what I mean to say, but I make no sound.

He leans in, close to my ear. “Did you choose something pretty for the ball?” He trails a finger down my cheek.

Goosebumps race across my skin from his touch. I arch away, pressing back against the lift wall.

“Don’t you like our game?” he whispers.

Game? “Are there microphones or cameras in here?” There’s got to be an explanation for the seduction act. Maybe he doesn’t want to be overheard. I’m trying to not think about how good his hand feels.

He smiles. “No.”

I shove against the hard muscle of his chest with everything I have. He stumbles back, laughing. Rage shakes my body. “Don’t mess with me.”

“Or what?”

I slam my palm against the wall because it’s all I can do. There’s nothing to say, no way to win this argument with Davyd. I fold my arms across my chest and stand as far away as possible. We’re almost to the upper levels and almost out of time.

“Why the ball?” I ask.

The lift doors open.

“Because when everyone else is celebrating, we’re going to the Control Room.”

***

I’ve never looked forward to the end of the year so much. Knowing when it’s going to happen makes the wait easier. I’m busy helping Lady prepare for the big occasion. Her outfit’s orange with black bands around the sleeves. “I’m in mourning for Samuai,” she explains.

Because Kaih has an extra dress to make, I’m recruited to sew seventeen black Ss around the hem of Lady’s dress. As I stitch, I imagine Samuai’s smile at his Mother’s tribute. I feel closer to him and mostly manage to keep Davyd from my thoughts.

Over the next days I only see him when he’s sitting opposite at the dinner table or if I bump into him coming out of the clean room, his hair damp from the water. Just seeing him sends a flush of awareness over my body. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. He’s good looking, so what? He’s not decent or kind or even civil most of the time.