When I wake, there's a blanket draped around my body, tucked between me and the cold lockers poking into my back.
"She's awake."
I open my eyes just enough to see who's talking.
The woman. The beautiful one. The first mate. Across the room, only a few feet away, she sits on the floor with me, her legs crossed and her elbows on her knees. She rests her chin on her long, dark fingers that are entwined together. Deep brown eyes gaze at me from under dark eyelashes long enough to touch the stars.
"When you didn't return for three hours, I was sent to make sure you hadn't hanged yourself."
I stretch, my neck cracking uncomfortably as I adjust to face her. For the first time, I feel the chill in the room. Twisting the blanket in my fingers, I hug it closer to me. "You can report back to Captain Moon that his captive still lives."
"Ignore him." She grins. "He can be so sour."
I don't have a response. Despite the uncomfortable position, I want to go back to sleep. Turning away from her could be considered rude, but I can't think of anything else to do.
Nuna leaps to her feet. "Come now. We have to meet Teeno. He's worried about you, you know."
It would be easy to stay here. I could crumple into dust and let my skin rot away. All my problems would vanish. What would I have to worry about anymore? "I'm so tired."
She clicks her tongue. "Tired. We're all tired. But don't worry. You can sleep all you want when you are dead. For now, we have work to do. I have a ship to run. You have a baby to rescue."
At the mention of my son, my fire returns. "You're right."
She extends her hand to me. "This I know."
Looking at the soft skin of her fingers, the long nails, the ridges that make the webwork of her palm, it's so familiar but so different. Images of our broken world, the Topside, the crushed buildings and blackened sky all flood my mind at that second. When I blink, I'm back on Earth, burdened with a collapsed building on my chest. When I open my eyes again, I'm on a luxury liner, the weight of my failures crushing my ribs. Dean's hand. This stranger's hand.
She inches closer. "You must be very hungry. Teeno will order dinner from the kitchens. Anything you like. We have all the Earth delicacies."
I clasp her hand. "Fries?"
"I do not know this dish, but I will ask."
We stand in the locker room, hands together, staring eye-to-eye, her halo of tiny curls lifting from her head, my bald dome grimy with dried blood. We don't let go. Not for a few seconds.
She takes a blue shirt from the locker and holds it up against my chest.
"Blue is your color. Yes, it is." Draping the shoulders against mine, she backs away. "I will leave you here to dress, but I'll be back in six sondits. Be ready this time." She tugs at my earlobe and departs.
Words don't form. I stand there, the shirt falling to the ground. My earlobe tingling from her residual touch. Heat flares inexplicably from my inactive regions. The ones that were most ticklish when Dean was around. When Kai and I were at our naive beginnings.
Oh no.
I kick the shirt away and pick a new one out of the locker, grabbing a bra with it.
No. No, that' won't do.
I shove my arms through the blue shirt and quickly button it to the top. I grab a pair of underwear and a pair of crisp, dark blue pants from another locker and pull them on. As usual, I struggle to lift them over my wide hips and snip at my waist, still unrecognizable from my days before pregnancy and during. My body is alien. I don't know its shape anymore.
From another bin, I find rows of brown boots. Matching my foot up to a pair and slipping them over a pair of fresh socks, I feel infinitely better. I splash water on my face without looking at the mirror. I don't want to see who will be staring back at me. I scrub off what I hope is most of the dirt and blood without re-opening my sutures and quickly escape.
Nuna waits outside. "Feeling better, Miss Lorn?"
I cringe. "Call me Janika."
"Jan-eek-a," she tests out in her silky accent. "Very beautiful. How could I doubt such a beautiful name would be given to such a beautiful woman."
My throat is so dry. "Isn't Teeno expecting us?"
"Of course."
The passageways are not opulently decorated. They're clean, sleek, a streamlined form of beauty I'm not used to. It's the kind of aesthetic I'd appreciate when watching the surface of a placid lake at midnight. It's regal in its lack of detail. We ascend a grand staircase, the white metal railings with blue crystal walls reflect my face back at me wherever I turn. It's as if the whole ship is trying to get me to take a hard look at myself.
We traverse another deck and finally arrive at two enormous doors.
"After you," Nuna steps to the side and pushes the door open.
She smells like citrus. A whiff of it takes me spiraling through my memories — ones I was too empty to recall earlier in the locker room. A vivid image of Dean appears in the orange grove and the days we'd spend under the trees. I feel the juicy mist of the fruit as he splits it in half for us to share.
The doors slide to the side and I'm met with a room bedecked with treasure.
Teeno stands in its center, his arms open. "There they are! Come! Sit. Let's have a chat."
Accents. All of them are so different. They make a quilt of language, a variety of intonations for the different people I meet. Teeno speaks like Knuckles. Very similar, but yet so different. Knuckles' version is harsher, angrier in comparison to Teeno's flighty, crisper words. Nuna sounds nothing like them. Her version is a flavor unlike anything I've heard before. It's a spice I'm not used to.
The room twinkles like Teeno. His jacket, the medals, the buttons, the lights, the glass features dangling from the walls like melting candle wax made of crystal raindrops. It's so opulent. So unnecessary. There's a lot about Teeno that also feels someone excessive. Maybe he had a hand in designing the ship.
Or maybe he had none. Maybe I'm thinking too hard about these things. I know ARC10 is not exactly the best representation of its commander.
I pick at a clump of dried blood under my chin and run my tongue over the grainy film over my unbrushed teeth and switch my weight from one let to the other to alleviate the soreness in my hips.
Or maybe it is.
"Follow me." Teeno spins around on the silver heel of his polished blue boots and struts up a set of stairs to an upper deck of the room. We're wasting so much time getting through this playboy's cabin.
Four plush chairs form a square. They face each other, a silver table between two. Behind one set is the deck below. Behind the other, the universe. An enormous window encompasses the entire wall of his cabin. In the corner, is a large wooden cabinet stocked with crystal decanters filled with what I know to be liquor.
Not Junk Juice. Actual. Liquor.
Teeno pours the brown liquid the consistency of a gem into beautiful, clear glasses. He offers it to me.
I hold it, but don't know what else to do.
He settles into a chair across from mine, crosses his ankle over his knee and reclines, gracefully swirling the drink. "Let's get down to business."
Finally.
"Tell me about Earth."
I crack a deep frown. "What?"
"Our home planet! How is she? I do miss the old girl. What did she look like before you launched? I've heard stories about its destruction, black lagoons of sludge, clouds of space litter, all life burned to—"
"You told me you know how to get my child."
Teeno leaned forward. "All in good time, my dear. First, I'm quite curious about the state of our old home. We don't get many reports. Recent abductees might indulge us a minute or two, but mostly we're in the dark. And, to be quite honest, since the destruction of Earth, the markets have gone dry of new informants. We've had no news since your lot burrowed themselves away."
My mouth opens and closes. I don't have any way to respond to this. I'm here for my son. Is he asking for small-talk?
I shift my gaze to Nuna. She's not smiling either. Her eyes are narrowed, her jaw is tight. It's as if she wants to say something, but is restraining herself.
"Out with it! I'm dead curious," Teeno prompts again.
The glass in my hand shatters when I slam it on the wooden arm of my blue seat. The ringing echoes around the room. No one seems startled but me as I look at the shards cutting my fingers.
"That bad, huh?"
"Where's my son?"
"Teeno," Nuna's purr slips into the tension. She leans forward and grins. "The girl doesn't have the capacity for your pleasantries right now. Shall we share our intelligence so she may sleep?"
"No fun. You're almost as bad as that one over there." He nods to the darkened corner where I didn't notice Moon lurking before. "I suppose you're right, Nuna. Would you do the honors, my dear?"
Nuna rises. She slinks toward the bar, swinging her full hips as she moves. I'm transfixed by her rhythm.
A glass in her hand, she pours two fingers and returns to pass it to me in my other hand, kicking the large pieces of the previous glass under the chair. She flips over my now-bloody palm and kneels down until we're face to face. "Your son is fine, from what we hear."
"How do you know?"
She picks a large shard embedded in my finger. "Our enemy is powerful and very famous. Every deal she makes is widely discussed. Not openly, mind you, but we have our sources."
"Deal?"
"A trade."
I seethe. Too many times have I had to hear about my people as a commodity. "What was the trade?"
"Protection."
I take my first sip as she holds my hand, caressing the shallow cut. "She traded protection? My guess is that the golden guards are hers then."
"Correct. The Guilded Legion is a powerful army of enhanced Earthen men who are singularly loyal to her."
I close my fist when she removes her attention and returns to her seat next to me. The glow of the room softens her features as she gazes at me with naked pity. Maybe she knows the question before I can ask it. "What did she receive for her army's engagement?"
A deep voice from the darkness responded. "The one thing she has always wanted."
I glare at Moon. "And what's that?"
"Someone to mold."
Teeno rolls his eyes as he tips back his drink. "Here we go."
"Juno is a manipulator in the most literal sense. Her greatest desire is to create the perfect being." Moon emerges from the shadows to hover over me. "As that simple, human function was taken from us when we were abducted, she has had to find other ways to fill the void."
The way Moon tenses as he speaks, I can tell there's history here. He's speaking from experience. I have so many questions, I don't know where to start. What slips from my mouth surprises me. "She was abducted?"
"We all were," Teeno says. "Stolen from our beds on Earth, shoved into small cylinders, stripped, sterilized, and slapped onto the chopping block for the highest bidder."
I scan the room again. We are four people who have shared an experience. For the first time, the warmth of solidarity creeps under my skin. But one word drains that feeling immediately. "Sterilized?"
"There aren't many rules in the market," Nuna says. "But there are some. All creatures for market must be sterilized. There can be no chance that imports will be used to breed more creatures for profit. No child nor any creature with child will be placed into the market. The market does not deal in the young."
Moon harrumphs. "I've seen it happen."
"The system is not flawless, my Captain."
A sudden, cold dread dribbles from the top of my head and chills me to my toes. "No one on my ship can reproduce. There weren't any children except mine."
Nuna nods. "We were aware."
My gut drops. I clutch my shirt tight in my fist. I want to rip something, to throw this new glass against the wall. I want to tear my own hair out if I had it. "It was planned. It was fucking planned."
The cabin is silent as I seethe.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck them all. Fuck the United Regions of Earth. Fuck the president. Fuck Hayomo. They knew. They knew and they waved and promised a life of freedom while two thousand blind souls headed into a dark abyss. They knew.
"I spent my life protecting the people."
No one said a word to contest that statement. They watched me with wide, cautious gazes.
"I spent my whole fucking life protecting the people. I risked my ass trying to get them to a planet they'd never see. And there were people who knew—they knew we'd never see it— I could have died for nothing. I could have—" The room began to spin.
"That is enough for one meeting, no?" Nuna reaches out to clutch my arm. "Janika should rest."
"No." I rip my hand from her grasp. "I need to get my son back. Take me to Juno."
Moon bursts into gales of ugly laughter. Teeno, Nuna and I wait for him to finish, but he continues his guffaws as he descends the stairs. The volume of his string of guttural, body-wracking hysteria doesn't dwindle as he traverses the bottom deck and reaches the door.
In my seat, I spin around, aim, and chuck my full glass at his head. It shatters on impact.
In seconds, before I can fully turn around in my seat, Moon is on me. He leans in, his hands on each arm of the chair. His face is inches from mine, his black hair obscuring his golden eye socket. The faint hiss of steam emits from somewhere on his body.
It's then that I notice, there's an unnamed familiarity here. I've seen his face before, but I can't place where. I saw him at the bar that one time at the port when Dean and I were reunited, but it's more than that.
He's twisted in rage. "I am done with you and your insubordinate behavior. This is my ship and I am its captain. It is purely out of courtesy to your dying race and Teeno's obsessive concern for the state of this carpet that I do not gut you right here and now. Currently, you are this close to being executed." He holds up his fingers to demonstrate the diminutive slack he's giving me. "Prepare for hell."
Hardening, I glare back at his one eye.
"Ledi," Moon shouts, his hot breath assaulting my face. "Prepare the brig."
A disembodied voice responds in curt, crisp English. "Yes, Captain."
Teeno leans back in his seat. "Ledi, I would like for you to meet your newest inhabitant. Janika Lorn will be staying with us for a bit."
"It is good to meet you, Miss."
I still can't see much beyond Moon's face invading my space.
Teeno points to the ceiling. "Ledi is the HMS Valediction's operating system. It will help you once our generous captain has decided your time in the brig has ended."
"I'm here for my son."
Moon backs away. "You should have thought about that before exposing what a moron you are."
Nuna rises. "Let's go, Janika. No good will come out of this conversation today." She wraps her hand around my bicep and pulls me up with force.
So much for kindness. I glare at her. "I thought you were going to help me."
She doesn't answer. Instead, she shoves me forward as we walk down the stairs. I don't look back, don't thank Teeno for the warmth of the amber drink, don't spit on Moon's boots as I'm escorted from the cabin. The walk to the brig is silent. I don't gawk at the decor or the people peeking from their cabins at the strange, fuming woman being escorted to the brig. They stare, open-mouthed, their whispered curiosity loud enough for me to hear their questions.
"Is that the commander of the refugees?"
"What'd she do?"
"Where are the rest?"
"What's wrong with her head?"
This is too familiar. But at least on this special occasion, I still have my shirt on.
I sense Moon behind us. It's the same itch to check over my shoulder when I thought John had crawled into the shadows or when the Invaders were lurking over my six. That urge to look overtakes me.
I peer over my shoulder as Nuna pushes me forward.
He's there, stalking us, glaring at my back with one eye. I notice how the people retreat to their cabins as he approaches.
They fear him.
We turn a corner and wait for a door to open. A tiny, resonant beeping emits from the box at eye level with Nuna's face. When it slides open, we descend the spiral staircase to a darker, but no less manicured section of the ship.
The brig is an enormous, white, sterile room. This is too familiar. The white, bleachy walls bring me right back to the last time I had to endure a shameful trek to my doom.
I struggle in Nuna's grasp.
"It's not so bad. I promise." She holds tighter.
There are no bars. Just rows of toilets and sinks and white canvas cots on sturdy metal legs. I know what those legs sound like when they eek across a tile floor.
I was right all along.
The Human Hope Project was a prison. This is a prison. That was a prison. Have I ever been free?
Nuna pushes me toward the cot.
I spin around and face the two. "Don't leave me here." My voice is so small, so pathetic, but I can't push past the gripping fear of what happened last time and what could happen again.
Moon snarls. "You don't get to make demands."
"Let's negotiate. One commanding officer to another." I'm in a major position of weakness and he knows it. I don't have anything to leverage. He saved me and now I'm in his brig. But there has to be something he wants.
He sneers at me. "You lost that chance when you assaulted me on my own ship."
They turn to leave me here. I step forward and smack against an invisible barrier. I feel out the forcefield, the heating barrier that ticks as the wall charges. It snaps and shocks me. I stop touching it but don't back away. "Please."
Moon doesn't stop, but Nuna turns to face me. Her plump lips form a stern frown as she watches me. After a few seconds, she shakes her head, her enormous puff of air wavering back and forth, catching the light.
Her smile is so gentle. "Your aim is very impressive."
The door snaps behind her.