Temper (2 page)

“The Company?”

“Yes. They locked us up, lied to us, experimented on us, and what have we done in return? Killed a few officers and then scurried like rats to hide in the mountains.”

“Do rats even hide in Attack the Company?”

He ignores my sneer. “Why not? Those of us from the ship are impervious to their great weapon. We have strength and speed. They’ve made us strong. I say we use the way they’ve enhanced us against them.”

No wonder Davyd is never lonely for female company. I hate him and yet find it hard not to get caught up in his desire. His voice, his energy, echoes the need for revenge that keeps me awake at night. But inside me lingers the voice of reason, too. “We need to establish a secure base.”

“You mean give them time to organize an attack?”

“Maybe they’re not. We escaped them before. They could be cutting their losses.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I push past him to stand at the edge of the cliff. From here I can see the settlement off in the distance, glowing with light in the darkness. Filled with the green robes who’ve been resisting the Company for years and with the people the Company were breeding for battle.

“They’re not going to take the loss of decades of investment in their little spaceship program well,” I admit eventually.

“They’re going to come for their property. I don’t intend to be sitting waiting for collection when they do.”

He’s including himself. Back on the ship he was important as the head Official, Fishie’s, son. Out here he’s just another specimen with no idea what the Company has done to him. We’ve all been violated, and we don’t even know how.

“What’s your plan?”

He runs a hand through his wet hair, scattering water drops. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. If I go to the council as a lone voice then they’ll shoot me down; but together we could present a case for action.”

“Why me?”

“Apart from this special connection we have?”

In a few swift steps my hand is around his throat. “Don’t push me.”

“Look at you, taking any excuse to touch me. It’s almost romantic,” he squeaks.

The rain has cleared, and the clouds thin, letting the moon light up his perfect, mocking face.

My fingers tighten. I’m squeezing, feeling the muscles and tendons give way to my pressure; his airway begins to cut off. The anger inside me glories in the way his eyes bulge and his lips part in a desperate gasp for oxygen.

He doesn’t move to defend himself.

I hold his hateful gaze for one second, two. Now I have all the power. It spreads hot tendrils through me, giving me strength. My vision blurs, and spots appear in front of my eyes. I could shut him up forever.

Squeeze a little tighter.

It would be so easy. All I need to do is …

Nothing. I drop my hand and crumble to my knees, pressing my forehead to the rocky ground. Shudders wrack my body as I rock back and forth.

What have I become?

Somewhere above me he sucks in a shaky breath. “Temper, temper,” he says softly.

My eyes sting, but no tears will fall. “Leave me alone.”

“Until the rage inside you overtakes everything else? Until you do something you can’t undo?”

“I warned you not to push me.” I grasp hold of that fact. I did warn him. He drove me to act, goaded me until I didn’t have a choice.

But did his teasing deserve death?

I block out the voice in my head. But I can’t ignore the one a few feet away.

“This isn’t grief making you act this way,” he says, kneeling in front of me. “And you’re not the only one who’s losing control.”

“Don’t make excuses.”

“I’m not.”

His hand brushes the top of my head where my hair has grown into soft fuzz. It’s been weeks since Lifer regulations of shaved heads have been left behind. Electricity skitters across my skin when he touches my forehead, and it dampens the rage within. As the anger in me cools, I find the strength to lift my head. “I’m guessing you have a theory?”

His mouth curves. “I would say ‘that’s my girl’ since you worked it out so fast, but I don’t have a death wish. I suspect you don’t belong to anyone.”

Against all reason, I smile at the hint of admiration in his voice. I curl up and wrap my hands around my knees. I let myself look up at him, relieved when the marks on his neck are already fading. “There are others?”

“You’re the first who’s actually tried to kill me, but surely you’ve noticed the fights in food lines? The shoving over shower use? The extra injuries in the practice fights that go too far?”

Guilt nibbles at the back of my mind. Why didn’t I notice any of this? “I haven’t been around much.”

“Believe me, it’s only a matter of time before someone from the ship loses control. Probably a Lifer.”

“Because we’re less sophisticated.”

His eyes don’t quite meet mine. “Because whatever it is they’ve done, I believe they’ve done it to you more. The hardships you’ve faced as a group, it’s made you … stronger for lack of a better word.”

I want to argue but I remember too well how easily I could have crushed his throat. Only weeks ago when we fought in the low gravity training rooms on the ship, he could overpower me without breaking a sweat. “Something’s changed.”

“But I can’t work out what.”

The rain begins to fall again. I close my eyes and let it cool my skin. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to water falling from the sky. I’ve been too long in an artificial environment where every molecule I’ve ingested came from a particular source.

I jump to my feet. “The ship.”

Davyd blinks up at me. “What about it?”

“They had control of our food and water.” I pace around him as I think aloud. “What if they were drugging us to keep us pliable? Now, without the drug, the changes they’ve made have no check, nothing to keep control.”

“But we brought the majority of the food and water production with us.”

“It’s the Nauts.” In my urgency, I slip back to calling our leaders by the old name from when we thought those in the gray suits were piloting us in space. It takes a beat before I correct myself. “The Company added it themselves to the water, or maybe the very air we breathed. Don’t you see? It’s a part of them having control over the experiment. We have our own inbuilt self-destruct sequence. We’ll all turn on each other before we can possibly rise against them.”

“They’re the only ones who can save us.”

“But they want to destroy us.”

“We’ll take the fight to them, there must be a way.” Anything else Davyd might have said is cut off by a bang from the direction of the settlement.

“Did you hear that?” I ask.

But he’s already running. “Come on.”

“But I’m supposed to be on guard.”

He spares me a glance over his broad shoulder. A look that shines through the darkness and the drizzle and slices through to my soul. “You play babysitter for some rabbits if you want to. I’m going to fight.”

I hesitate a beat. Long enough for him to disappear down the trail. This time his hurried steps send rock and gravel tumbling, and the sound echoes over distant shouts. The sound of a battle.

My longing to be alone wars with the need to know what’s happening, and the fact that no matter how much I want to, I can’t sever all links with those who came with me from the ship.

Q tight in my hand, I run.

[Samuai]

I stoop to duck inside Megs’ tent but stop at the entrance. Walking her back here was one thing—it’s late, and it was only natural to fall into step beside her when we left the card games in the common room. But going inside is something else. Something I’m not sure is best for either of us.

She turns back, flicks strands of orange hair away from her green eyes, and beckons me toward her with a slow smile.

“Don’t be so shy, I’m not going to jump your bones,” she teases. But her eyes betray a heat beneath her words.

My body won’t let me forget how much I wanted this girl. Back when I was called Blank and had no memory of Fishies or Lifers. Everyone believed I was dead, and all I wanted was to know the truth. The familiar stab of regret follows along with the ever present ache in my head.

I should have known the truth would hurt more than it healed. I have memories that even now I can’t stand to dredge up. An innocent boy’s death, and the guilt over Zed’s loss, I will never escape. If I’d known what I’d find out that day, I’m not sure I’d have let the green robes probe my brain and break down the walls put in place by the Company.

Because somewhere out there in the darkness, keeping watch alone, is another girl, and my heart won’t let me forget the promises we made when life was different and our future was locked inside a starship.

Bang
.

The thud shakes the ground.

Megs’ eyes widen. “What was that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing,” I reply. But neither of us believes it. The knot of dread in my gut lingers. I haven’t been able to escape it since the day I woke naked with no memory.

We head out of the tent toward the buildings that mark the social, political, and medical hub of the settlement. I scan the immediate area looking for a source of the noise—but there’s nothing out of place. Dozens of tents squat in neat rows. Paths between them are lit by solar lights, glowing dimly despite the faint drizzle in the air. The perimeter is undisturbed, and the low fence I worked on all afternoon is intact. But those who should be keeping watch at the raised platforms are missing.

Any hope the noise has a peaceful source is fast disappearing.

Another
bang
. Then the unmistakable tinkle of glass breaking.

“Hurry,” I say to Megs, but she is already pushing past me. Her brother is in one of those buildings, unconscious and vulnerable, thanks to the Q-coma he shows no sign of waking from.

“Be careful,” I call after her.

But it’s not the girl who’s with me I’m worrying about.

Asher’s on guard tonight.

Something cramps behind my ribs. The pastures are on the opposite side of the settlement to the city, and to the Company stronghold from which we fled. But circling around to surprise is the kind of tactic I’d think of. Which means Maston—the Company leader and my former mentor—would think of it too. If he’s leading this attack she could be vulnerable.

She might already be dead.

Like her little brother. In my brain Zed’s face, which I last saw pale and blue in a pond, becomes Asher’s. I stumble and almost fall, but catch myself in time, banishing the image. She can’t die. I won’t believe it.

Others emerge from the tents around me. Around here, they’re all green robes. Fishies—my people—inhabit the tents to the north, while Lifers dominate the south. All wear matching expressions of fear and confusion.

A child follows his mother, tiny hand wrapped around a Q, and I don’t know whether to applaud the little guy’s bravery or pick him up and carry him away to safety.

I do neither.

This is everyone’s war. If the Company has come at last, I’ll be needed in the battle.

I break into a run, easily overtaking the green robes heading toward the noise. Flames light the sky beyond the building. Voices are raised around me, but the rain and the throb in my head, an ache that won’t go away, muffles everything. So when I round the corner of the hospital, my breath harsh and blood pounding in my ears, I can almost imagine the scene before me is being played out on an oversized vid screen.

Bodies, at least a dozen, writhe in the rain. Dark silhouettes on a back drop of one of the old trucks in flames. Fists and feet fly. Someone screams. I can’t tell who, exactly, because they’re all coated in mud.

All I know is—

“They’re not Company,” says Megs as she comes to a stop at my shoulder. She doubles over, hands on her knees, panting from running.

“Nor green robes.”

I’m certain of it. Fishies and Lifers only brawl before us in a twisted dance of two people whose history has been inexorably entwined until now. Despite the pretense of freedom here, they can’t escape each other. Any illusion of us uniting against the Company disintegrates before my eyes, as a man attempts to crawl out of the pack, only to be dragged back into the fray.

A crowd has formed in the shadow of the hospital, but nobody moves to intervene. We stand, frozen. A woman’s cry splits the night. Jolted from my shock, I take a step forward.

Megs’ fingers dig into my shoulder. “Don’t.”

I shrug her off. “Someone has to.”

“Why does that someone have to be you?”

Her question follows me toward the mass of heaving bodies, and I can’t think about it because I’m afraid if I do, I’ll run. I bailed on my responsibilities once before. I’m not going to do it again.

“Stop,” I shout, arms raised. But no one reacts.

Up close, it’s harder to tell the fighters apart. I shout again, but there’s no sign they heard. Faces are muddy masks of fury with stark white eyes and bared teeth. With no other ideas, I grab at the nearest body.

“Let me go,” the woman cries.

Her nails slice into my wrist as she struggles to be free but I get a hold of her. Just. I drag her backwards, but she’s heavy and fighting to get away. All the while cursing me, this place, and the Company.

I know that voice, but I’ve never heard it raised. I angle her face toward the fire to confirm. “Inglais?” This woman was a Fishie. My Mother’s friend, and fifty years old at least. Her dress is torn and dripping mud and her long hair a black tangle. “Inglais, is that you?”

She blinks. “Samuai?”

“It’s me.”

Her eyes clear. Tears roll down plump, scratched cheeks. She stops trying to get free and says, “What have I done?”

I leave her there, collapsed in the mud, and am heading back for another when I see Davyd approaching like he owns the place. He’s carrying a long tube or pipe.

Asher is at his side, but she doesn’t seem to see me. Her attention is on the fight.

“Now,” she commands, glancing back over her shoulder.

I follow her gaze and see Keane by the old pump. The leader of the green robes moves at her order to flick the old machine to life. I’m reminded she isn’t a shy servant anymore.