26 Somewhere with Birds #2
“Suit yourself.” Rosaria’s voice didn’t let up while Temmi dressed.
“I think I might’ve pissed Petra off—yesterday, while you were off kissing Nix Expani, oh, my gods, I still can’t believe you did that—our producers had us all chatting about the Fleet and how helpful it is in our different territories.
Which—my family hates the Fleet, but they do keep production up and there’s less crime with them around, so— Anyway.
I asked Petra what it was like to be a real-life hero, you know, ’cause of her two lilac hearts, and you know what she said to me?
‘I’m no fucking hero,’ then stormed off.
She barely did anything more than grunt at me last night and wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.
Gods I wish we could room together. I can’t stand her stony silences.
I hate when people don’t like me. You like me, right? ”
Temmi emerged from the closet, hair still dripping. Rosaria stared at her with such wide, entreating blue eyes, she couldn’t very well say no. Yeah, there was no way this girl could kill anyone.
“I think you’re great.” Somehow, she even managed to say the words without them sounding sarcastic. Was this— was she making a friend ?
Ollie would’ve been struck dumb with shock.
Rosaria grinned. “You stick with me, X72, and we’re gonna have the best time.” She hopped off the bed and latched her arm around Temmi’s. “To hair and makeup?”
On account of having been on the date with Nix the day before, Temmi wasn’t included in the first group date.
Neither was Rosaria, to the Underbeltian’s endless misery.
Or Arbora. Or even Cailin Frederik. Of the other three prime suspects, Qurain also remained behind, but Damaya and Waiting Willow left for the date.
Temmi sat through a solo interview where Justine prodded her with pointed questions like “How did the other girls respond to your date with Nix? Did you tell anyone you and he kissed? Any jealousy popping up? There seems to be bad blood between you and Cailin; what’s going on there?”
“Cailin could have bad blood with a fucking blade of grass,” Temmi had said.
After the cameras were sent away, Justine popped a piece of chewing gum and said, almost wistfully, “You should confront her. Girls like Cailin think they own the world, and it’s annoying for people like us.
Imagine the example you’d set for standing up to bullies.
Anyway, think about it. Oh, and head to the second courtyard; everyone’s required to participate in a single-elimination chess tournament—it’s an Old Terran game.
Winner gets a midnight walk on the beach with their heir of choice. ” Whistling, she walked off.
Temmi had never played chess before, nor had any of the other contestants, with the exception of Cailin Frederik—because of course she had.
Some old historian taught them the rules and then paired them up.
Temmi won against her first two opponents—Rosaria, then Iasha.
The sun was pleasantly warm, the air a touch humid; their tables were shaded by the canopy of a massive tree.
Cameras surrounded the courtyard, drones humming overhead.
Producers moseyed about, asking questions to prompt conversation between contestants.
Questions that seemed geared at inciting conflict rather than sparking diplomacy.
For example, Temmi overheard one producer at a table behind her saying, “Is it true the inhabitants of Trillion are descended from a banished New Terran cult? I heard a rumor your people believe they are chosen somehow? That New Terra stole their birthright?”
The question had the effect of causing Yoshi Blagden, the Trillion contestant, to get verbally combative with Cailin Frederik over New Terra’s historically bad treatment when it came to freedom of religion. Cailin came out the victor—both in their debate and their chess game.
Temmi’s third game was against Qurain Qu.
She was from Luna, the one and only moon that orbited Old Terra.
Luna was a territory so ancient, it existed more as a historical preserve than a real world.
Qurain wore a flowing outfit of gleaming silver, the fabric giving off a distinctly metallic sheen.
Matching silver jewelry was studded through the cartilage of her ears, across her forehead, and in her tongue.
She had unblemished light brown skin and long, straight black hair.
She was incredibly striking. And something about her accent reverberated somehow—like it contained an echo from another time.
“Tell me,” Temmi asked as they started their game, doing her best to sound conversational. “Which of the heirs do you have your sights on? I heard a rumor you’re angling for Nix?”
“Your rumor is true,” Qurain said, moving a pawn. A camera closed in on them. “Though I fear myself disadvantaged. I hear he likes women of the sciences, and I am not that. He barely talked with me night one. Against all odds, though, you seem to have caught his attention.”
“No kidding—I’m as surprised as anyone else.” On the gameboard, Temmi drew first blood.
Would a disadvantaged contestant be willing to do something heinous to give themself a leg up? Seemed like a pretty far leap to murder, though.
“So, why come, then?” Temmi asked. “What are you hoping to gain from the show?”
“A slim chance at love is still a chance at love, is it not?” The left side of Qurain’s mouth lifted in a smile.
“And any chance at love is a chance worth taking. We on Luna are a people of deep tradition and old values. His Highness is the kind of person I believe would respect that. The Terrans, both Old and New, overlook us. I’m here to show the universe that we are more than eccentrics.
That our beliefs have relevance to all of humanity.
Perhaps, after our game, I can share some of our basic tenets with you. ”
“Perhaps,” Temmi said. She could read between the lines. Qurain Qu was religious and had come on the show in some kind of missionary endeavor. Could Kya’s murder have been religiously motivated, then? It wasn’t much to build a murder case on, but it could be something to investigate further.
“And what of yourself, hm?” Qurain asked, completely blundering her queen.
“The fabled X-er with the colorful past. The girl who insulted Spielin Expani publicly. Such an interesting person, you are. Have you ever considered who you might’ve been in a past life?
Ever yearned to access the subconscious of your past selves? ”
And with that hard right into proselytizing territory, Temmi was ready to escape the conversation. A few moves later, she trapped Qurain in checkmate and bid a hasty goodbye.
The final match of the afternoon came down to Temmi and Cailin Frederik.
Cailin seemed personally affronted by the prospect that Temmi had survived this far into the tournament.
The New Terran princess played chess with a feverish focus—she said little, her red hair curtaining one side of her narrow face, visible beads of sweat turning her forehead dewy.
The other contestants surrounded them. Only Rosaria cheered Temmi on; everyone else was firmly situated in Cailin’s camp. Three cameras captured different angles of the gameboard.
The game lasted less than five minutes. Temmi, who’d only learned to play that day, didn’t stand a chance. Cailin effectively and brutally destroyed her.
· · ·
Spie: Heard you lost a chess tournament to our favorite New Terran t oday.
When the incoming bridge vibrated Temmi’s wrist, a little trill of giddiness rang through her chest. She’d never admit so aloud—and could only imagine the way Ollie would tease her for being so transparent—but she’d spent the whole day checking her CB, as though by doing so, she could magic a bridge from Spie into existence.
With what was probably an embarrassing grin on her face—thank the nebula Arbora was off somewhere with Justine—she sank into her bed.
Yes, Temmi should be better than this. Yes, she should be focused on her ongoing murder investigation. Yes, nothing real could ever actually happen between her and Spie. Not that Temmi had any actual evidence that Spie liked her like that. She was probably just keeping tabs on Nicky’s investment.
So, what was the harm of a few bridges after a long day?
Temmi: And I heard you made out with Petra Corran on your group date.
The response was immediate.
Spie: Gotta give the viewers what they want.
Temmi: And what they want is you trading spit with a different contestant every day?
Spie: Careful there, Trash Girl, you’re starting to sound jealous.
Temmi slapped her wrist to shut off her CB. Her pulse had gone to her throat. I’m not jealous, she thought. Sure, Petra is hands down the coolest person here, so Spie liking her was an inevitability . . . Oh, fuck, I am jealous.
She brought her CB back to life.
Temmi: Not at all. I just think there’s a lot more to you than your sexuality. If I was a viewer, I’d want to see all of you (and no, I don’t mean that the way it sounds, you know what I mean).
When Spie didn’t respond for two minutes, five, ten, Temmi leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Damn it. She’d said something wrong.
Her CB buzzed. With alarming speed, she whipped her wrist upright. Only to be immediately disappointed.
Rosaria: Johnsi—my producer—scored us some cake from the kitchen staff.
Turns out it’s Petra’s birthday and she didn’t tell anyone!
She’s turning 30! The big three-zero. Can you believe that?
? She says Outerbeltians don’t celebrate birthdays, but pishposh to that.
Party in my room—two doors down. If you don’t show, I’m going to be really saaaaaaad.
A full hour passed without a bridge from Spie.
Temmi downed her second glass of champagne and third slice of pineapple upside-down cake.
She was sitting cross-legged on Petra’s bed, playing a game of cards.
Petra sat with her bad leg outstretched, a sweet-smelling cigar balanced between her teeth, thin smoke trailing from the burning end.
Rosaria danced drunkenly and without a trace of rhythm to a song blasting from her CB.
In her home tongue, she belted the lyrics with slurred vigor.
Someone shouted down the corridor to keep the racket down.
Rosaria had been disappointed when none of the other contestants she’d invited to the impromptu birthday party had shown up.
Had launched into an impassioned speech on the contestant hierarchy and how they were on the very bottom.
“There are three groups,” she’d said between mouthfuls of cake, crumbs raining down her chin.
“First, the Powers. Pretty self-explanatory; those are the contestants that have a lot of power independent of the show, and no barcode on their palms. That’s Cailin, Jasmine, Arbora, and Milea.
Now, you could potentially throw Damaya and Waiting Willow in with them, but I think they fit better at the top of group number two—the Pageants.
“Pageants are the girls—or enby, as is the case for Yoshi—who grew up aiming to be on a season of Love Galaxy. They’re usually rich and famous in their own home territories but not galactically, like many of the Powers.
Qurain, Niyamin, Iasha—Kya, before she was sent home.
Technically, I count as an Underbelt Pageant, though clearly the Underbelt isn’t prestigious enough for any of the others to be bothered to come tonight. ”
“And I take it we’re in the last group?” Petra said.
“We are the last group,” Rosaria said. She curtseyed for effect. “The Poors.”
Now Rosaria’s drunken ballad reached a whole new level of loud .
“We could coax her out the window.” Petra nodded at Rosaria. “Bring her back in when she passes out.”
“She’d just make us dance outside with her.” Temmi glanced at her CB—still no bridge from Spie.
“Ah, you’re right. I’d never do it, anyway. Annoying as she is—and do not even try to tell me she’s not—Rosie’s good people. Reminds me of my wife, Cara. And not just because they’re both Unders.”
That got Temmi’s attention. “You’re married ?”
Petra puffed on her cigar. “Late wife. Had a zest for living, same as Rosie. Was always seeing the best in people, Cara was, even when they didn’t deserve it. I never understood it, personally. Especially after all the shit we saw together. Underbeltians must have superior brain chemistry.”
“What happened?” Temmi asked.
Petra stared at her cards; for a moment, her grey eyes appeared to mist over. “What always happens. The Fleet fucked us. Then gave me two lilac hearts as though that could make up for losing the best person who ever lived.” She blinked rapidly. “Shit, I’ve been drinking too much.”
“Why come here , then? Sorry. That was too direct—I know I can be a bit brash. I’m sorry about your wife.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re young, but I can tell you’ve seen some shit too.
Being brash is how some of us survive.” Petra’s gaze drifted to Rosaria, standing in the room’s center, swaying to a meandering beat.
“I didn’t come to represent the Outerbelt.
The Outs are my home, sure, but only barely.
I came here because marrying that hot piece of princess is the best way I can think of to change the Fleet.
Expan’s military needs a major overhaul.
So, I could either stay home and drink myself into an early grave—which Cara would’ve hated—or do something that could make a difference for future cadets.
That, and Cara always liked Spie. She’d find it funny I was here. ”
Spie could do a lot worse than Petra Corran, Temmi thought. Just then, her CB vibrated. Finally.
Spie: You don’t know me well enough to say that. Trust me, the viewers don’t want more of me. No one does.
Temmi frowned at the message. She drafted an immediate response. There was just enough alcohol buzzing through her veins to not second-guess sending it.
Temmi: You’re wrong. If I was a viewer, I’d want to see all of you.