Temper Page 3

  My hand is on a file when I hear something. I freeze. Voices. I’m not alone down here.

  I slip back out into the hallway. I should flee, and intend to, but then I recognize the low tones. Keane. And he’s talking to Charley.

  What began as an innocent search for Charley has become something more sinister. I shouldn’t be here, but I can’t walk away now. My heart is thumping, and I will it to be quiet. I approach the closed door with a fear that they’ll hear me and I’ll be discovered.

  So close, his voice comes through loud and clear. Seems he forgot to take into account how those of us from the ship have enhanced hearing as well fast healing and Q protection.

  “We don’t have much time. Did you secure the entrance?”

  “I’m not sure,” replies Charley.

  “Not sure isn’t good enough. You’re the only doctor here. Someone might come looking for you.”

  “I’m sorry.” There are tears in her voice.

  “Tell them it was the truck,” he says, gentle but firm. “Blame the force of the explosion for the girl’s death.”

  There’s a long pause. “Medically I can already rule that out. Cause of death was most likely a blow from a fist or a knee to the back of her head.”

  A blow … Someone in that brawling mass of bodies killed Tesae. Nausea battles to erupt, but I swallow it back. There’s a killer amongst us, and Keane’s advocating letting them get away with it. My hands against the wall are fists, and I have to force myself not to race in there and confront them.

  “The explosion.” Keane’s voice allows no argument. “We can’t afford a witch hunt in the camp.”

  “What we can’t afford is to ally ourselves with these people. They’re out of control. Next time it might be one of us.”

  “We’ll make sure there is no next time.”

  “It’s too great a risk.”

  I push on the wall, feel it give beneath my fist. A trickle of plaster falls to the ground. Secret rooms, secret agendas. Only days ago I went to Charley for help. No wonder she’s evasive when I question her about the tests they performed on me when they unlocked my memories.

  Keane exhales. “I don’t like it either, but they’re our only hope against the Company.”

  Betrayal tastes acid on my tongue. I trusted these people. More than that, I brought everyone I’ve ever known here because I believed in them and their vision. Like I believed Maston. How many times can I make the same mistakes without learning?

  “I’ll do the tests anyway,” says Charley. “I need to know.”

  Me too. I need to know, and I will find out everything they have hidden in these rooms.

  I stumble back, turn and run to the door.

  There’s a scrape of footsteps behind me but I’m already through the operating room and back outside. I’ll get stitches in the morning. It will give me a chance to check how closely they monitor the secret parts of the building.

  And somehow, I will uncover the truth.

  Chapter Three

  [Asher]

  I’m not sad that she’s dead.

  Not happy either, but all I can see in my head is the way Tesae’s nose turned up every time I entered a room. My ears ring with the distaste in her voice the few time she was forced to speak to me, and my cheeks sting with heat from her reminding me of my Lifer status as recently as yesterday morning when she refused to help clear the breakfast table because the task was beneath her. She never forgave me for the piece of broken plate through her thigh needed to stop her when she came at me drug-crazed during the rebellion.

  I overheard someone say her mother had to be sedated overnight, and all I could think was that the woman was taking the easy way out. Where were the medicos with syringes of oblivion when my brother died? Or when the Company officers tore my mother limb from limb?

  Standing at the back of the crowd, with the other Lifers, I watch as the body is lowered into the grave Samuai and Davyd dug last night. I almost offered to help them but figured the dead girl would hate the indignity of me touching her last resting place.

  Shoulder to shoulder, we Lifers stand in silent respect, but know she would not have done the same for us.

  Patches of blue break through the cloud in the sky, and a cool breeze pushes the smell of the burnt truck away from the camp. It is as though the rain has washed the world clean, but I can’t help looking at every face I pass and wondering if they killed the girl we’re here to mourn.

  The memorial finishes without me hearing much.

  I paid attention when Samuai stood to speak, and then switched off as fast. The girl he remembers isn’t the same person as the one who taunted me.

  There’s a lone sniff in the crowd around me. My childhood friend, Kaih, stands hunched a few feet away. Her blond hair shines in the weak sunlight, and she’s achingly beautiful as she dabs at her red-rimmed eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. As the best seamstress and designer on the ship, Kaih was always in demand to make clothes for the Fishies, but she was treated as no less a servant.

  Seeing me looking in her direction, my friend sends me a watery smile. I have to look away. Kaih’s capacity to care is painful to witness. I want to go to her, take her shoulders, and scream. Remind her of the way Tesae would fault her work and demand the ridiculous. But I say nothing, now is not the time.

  ***

  Two hours later, I’m the first Lifer to enter the hall for the council meeting. I try to project confidence as I push the double doors, but only my will keeps me from looking for my mother to be here and lead. A role she found so comfortable after my father passed, is one that sits uneasy on my shoulders.

  My steps echo across the wooden floor, stirring dust from those who’ve tracked in mud and left it to dry. The table in the middle could seat twenty but is dwarfed by the empty space around it. I don’t sit, not sure enough yet to take my place.

  Lady holds court by the other entrance in the far corner. As usual, Samuai’s mother is perfectly made up and with an air of royalty despite the more primitive surroundings. Her husband, Huckle who used to be head of the Fishies, has barely been seen since the night of the rebellion, and no one has argued with her taking over his position.

  She moves toward me, and I brace myself for her particular brand of affection, but she’s distracted by another Fishie: Arnold, who was once second in command to her husband.

  Already seated, Samuai doesn’t see me. He’s deep in conversation with an older green robe, Toby. Despite his age and limp, I remember him fighting with courage on the killing field outside the ship when we took on the Company. Samuai’s ever-present shadow, Megs, is on his other side and doesn’t look my way.

  Davyd enters with Kaih, and I try not to assume the worst, but he never does anything accidently. I don’t know what he wants with her, but it can’t be good. She has a glow I would hate to see him dim. And a kind heart I’d hate to see broken. I hope he sees the warning in my eyes, but all he does is wink.

  Later, I mentally promise, before turning to my friend.

  The marks of mourning we Lifers have made on our body in memoriam to those who have passed no longer need to be hidden. In this new freedom they can be worn with pride. The blue dye that was made from the chemicals available on Farm Level on board the ship is now supplemented by deep reds from ground up rock and pale white from a mineral deposit exposed on one of the Upheaval chasms close to camp. The danger in extracting it from the wall several feet in its depth is a challenge that makes the white the most precious.

  Losses against the Company are marked like sad rainbows across the Lifers’ skin.

  Others have gone further. What used to be for mourning alone is now part of a Lifers’ self-expression. Like Kaih’s ghostlike, white pelican spread-winged across her cheek and neck. A more traditional deep blue swirl wraps around Kaih’s wrist and snakes up her arm. I’ve been meaning to ask her whether it’s for Mother. She cared for Kaih after her own mother was caught in t
he fire in the Manufacturing level. They were close in a way that Mother and I, with my dreams of freedom, could never manage. Each time I’ve tried to speak to Kaih about it, the words wouldn’t come.

  “Asher,” Kaih cries.

  Her arms go around my shoulders in a hug completely without agenda. I pat her awkwardly in return, holding my breath until I have my own space again. I don’t trust myself so close to other people, especially those I don’t want to hurt. I’m not sure I was ever as carefree as she seems, even before I was broken inside.

  “How are you?” I ask, hating my wooden tone.

  She glances around. “A little intimidated to tell you the truth. I’m not sure why I’m here with all the important people.”

  “Because you’re amazing,” Davyd interjects before I can say anything.

  Kaih lifts her brows, putting him in his place without saying a word.

  I want to laugh. My friend might be kind-hearted and idealistic, but she’s no fool.

  He’s quick to backtrack. “Too much?”

  She nods.

  He measures her with gray eyes. “Perhaps you’re here because you know almost everyone in the camp and are well liked. Your skills have given you a diplomacy many here lack, and you fought as well as anyone during the rebellion.”

  His words feel like a jab at me. Apart from the fighting, the person he’s described could be my opposite. I keep my expression neutral. Not everyone can be a ray of sunshine.

  While we talk, the last few members of the council enter, and I have no choice but to take the seat next to Davyd. I study him out of the corner of my eye. I’m never sure how much of what happens he’s planned, nor for what ends. Maybe he’s not an evil genius, but I’d rather not take the risk.

  If he has a stunt to pull here, I don’t want to be part of it. I have my own plans, and if I’m going to be part of any mission to take the fight to the Company, then this is my chance.

  Last night there was nearly more than one death. I’m not sure the world wouldn’t be a better place without Davyd, but not at my hand. Not because I lost control.

  I have to do something about it.

  I expect Keane to call for order, but instead he stands and silence falls. The thirteen gathered around the table look to him. He’s a man who commands that kind of respect.

  “The first order of business is the terrible loss we experienced late last night. Charley has examined the victim, and she’ll summarize her findings for us all.”

  He gestures to the dark-skinned woman sitting silent at his side. Her eyes are weary, and I wonder how many she had to tend last night, as well as rush through the results on the death. Back on the ship, a few Lifers rotated simple nursing duties, but serious medical situations were handled by the Nauts. Meaning, we’re little help in the makeshift hospital.

  She clears her throat but hesitates. Keane frowns and nudges her forward.

  It takes another few seconds before she begins. “The force of the truck explosion is the most likely cause of death.” Her words trip over each other as relief floods through me. “The burns on the inside of her throat support my theory that she was closest to the truck when it went off and was then thrown back into the mud. Nothing could have saved her.”

  She sits as soon as she finishes, and her forehead shines with sweat. This woman must hate public speaking to react so strongly in front of so few. It’s strange because I’ve seen her around camp and would have guessed her to be a confident speaker.

  Her announcement is met with nods and one or two sighs. I’m not the only one relieved. Samuai is the only one who doesn’t nod or sigh. His eyes are narrow, and he’s staring at Charley, but when he catches my eye his face assumes a mask of neutrality.

  Before I can think anymore about his reaction, Keane stands again. “While it seems Tesae’s death was a terrible accident, last night showed us two things. First, our perimeter of defense went to hell at the first sign of trouble, which would have been disastrous if it were a Company attack. And second, we have a problem with anger levels in camp.” He flips a button, and a layout of the camp appears on the screen behind him. “We’ll start with the easier issue: defense.”

  “Where will you be when the fighting starts?” Davyd’s drawl cuts through Keane’s explanation of practice drills and mock battles.

  Every head turns toward him. His mother’s lips pucker, but I can’t tell whether Lady disapproves or is simply interested. Davyd rises and takes control of the room in one easy motion. He stops in front of the screen and studies it for a long moment before turning back to address the room. “The blue on your map is those of us from the ship?”

  Keane nods slowly.

  Davyd studies again. “It seems to me that we’re the ones who’ll be on the frontline. You green robes are planning to use us as your personal cannon fodder.”

  Keane meets him eye to eye. “That’s a rather simplistic view.”

  “I wish it was,” Davyd says with a sigh. He strides back to his seat, and I know he’s aware of us all following his movements. He is one of the few who still wears the ship issued clothes while most of us have embraced the casual jeans and skirts worn by the green robes. I think it’s a statement. Of what, I’m not so sure.

  No one breaks the silence as Davyd slumps into the plastic seat next to me. “Simplistic, you say? I wish.” He looks around the table. “I wish my view was distorted by my lifetime of being trapped in a metal can, but I’m afraid he’s the one trying to simplify the situation. I’d hate to think it was because he feels we,” his gesture encompasses all who’ve come from the ship, “are expendable compared to his friends.”

  There’s a murmur from some of the Lifers and Fishies. No one wants to risk their lives for virtual strangers. Although tensions have been high since last night—he did it—Davyd has managed to unite those from the ship for the first time in weeks. Unfortunately it’s against the wrong enemy. I don’t know what he’s playing at, but he has a plan. I’m sure of it.

  Keane is speechless. I hardly know the man, but my guess is the vein throbbing at his temple is from pure frustration.

  Davyd has that effect on people.

  “It makes sense.” Megs is the first to respond.

  Samuai backs her up, although he’s less than enthusiastic about it. “The Q cuts them down. Putting them at the front lines would be sending them to slaughter.”

  “Maybe,” Davyd concedes.

  “It’s the truth,” Samuai fires back.

  Davyd leans across the table toward his brother. “What if this weapon affects us as badly as your new friends, but it takes longer. You were the first we know of who was hit, and you made a secret visit to the hospital three days ago. Was that appointment anything to do with the green marks that haven’t faded from your skin?”

  There’s a gasp from Megs, but I focus on Samuai. All of us who fought outside the ship have marks like Samuai’s. My body is crisscrossed with them. This isn’t something he should be keeping to himself.

  “Tell us,” I demand.

  He refuses to meet my gaze. “It had nothing to do with the marks.”

  Davyd sneers. “So you say.”

  Samuai stands. “Are you doubting my word?”

  Davyd jumps to his feet. “You have a history of being selective with the truth.”

  “Enough,” I shout. My hand grips Davyd’s elbow. “Enough,” I say again. Softer this time.

  I feel Samuai looking at my hand, where it’s touching his brother, and let it fall to my side. “We have to trust each other,” I say. “As far as we know there are no ill effects from the Q to those of us modified on the ship. These green robes who Davyd is so quick to doubt have welcomed us and shared their knowledge and their settlement. We’ll share the defensive duties in the way that makes the most sense.” Davyd’s words on the mountain before we were disturbed ring in my brain. “But defense isn’t enough. We need to do something. We need to go to the Company and d
o something about the modifications they made to us.”

  I think Keane’s smile is grateful. “That brings me to the violence itself. Does anyone know how the fight started?”

  There are blank faces everywhere except … Davyd’s. He’s not flushing or anything but he’s casual, tapping his fingers on the table top like he doesn’t care.

  Toby pins Davyd with a suspicious gaze. “You were there, at the card game after dinner with the others who ended up out at the truck. I remember seeing you.”

  Davyd doesn’t deny it. “I was, and then I left. It was too easy to take their money.” His arm drapes over the back of my seat. “You can ask Asher if you don’t believe me.”

  My brain whirrs, trying to piece together the timeline of the night. It can’t be a coincidence that he came to me, promising violence if we didn’t take action, only for his prediction to come true.

  It happened the same night.

  Did he plan all this somehow?

  No, not even Davyd would roll the dice with people’s lives.

  A chill crawls down my spine, and I edge away from him. We’re not a team, just strangers whose goals occasionally align.

  “Well?” The question comes from Samuai.

  And I realize they’re all waiting for me to confirm Davyd’s alibi. “He was with me,” I admit.

  I fight the traitorous flush warming my throat. I don’t have to explain to these people what we were doing. I meet Samuai’s injured gaze across the table and try to tell him of my innocence with my eyes, but he angles his body toward Megs, and I don’t know what he’s thinking—something pretty common these days.

  “There was an argument about the truck.” The soft whisper comes from Kaih.

  She’s been so quiet, I’ve almost forgotten her presence on my other side. The light hits the white on her cheek, and I swear for a second the bird moves. She stirs, then straightens, and the affect is gone.

  “Tell us more,” Keane says. But he’s gentle. Where Davyd can’t help but irritate, Kaih tends to bring out the best in people.