16. The Consequences of Actions #2
“Everyone goes. The first officers, too. They’ll wonder where you are. Plus, attending social functions is part of Integration. Comes under ‘Culture’, like the Captain’s Dinner.”
“Part of Integration is also torture, apparently. And, funnily enough, I don’t like the sound of that either.”
“You don’t know for certain they’ll torture you. It’s different for everyone.”
“That’s hardly the point!”
Her face clouds over. “Do you not understand—”
“Please. Save the Sermon. I’ve already had one from Cosmer just now. Reminding me what a terrible person I am, and how I deserve everything I’m going through.”
The hardness drops out of her face.
“Oh,” she says, before crossing the distance to my bed.
She plops down onto it, tucking up her sharp knees.
“I get it,” she starts, in a tone so unexpectedly gentle it gets my full attention. “Feeling like everything is out of your control.”
“Do you?” I say, shakily.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes. When I was ten I got really sick. A plague. I wasn’t allowed to leave my room or see anyone but my parents. For ten months.”
A beat.
I try to imagine it. A prisoner in your own home. And then I remember, that I don’t need to imagine it. It’s what happened to me, when the war began, and I was locked in for my safety while the exchange to Hevalla was arranged.
“I’m sorry,” I say. And I mean it.
She shows me her arms. “These track marks remind me of that. What I went through. But I did get through it, with help from my parents. I got stronger than ever. So, my point is, I know what’s it’s like.
To feel like your future is out of your hands.
But where there’s a way in, there’s a way out.
And sooner or later, you’ll either find it. Or you’ll make one.”
She’s standing.
“And right now – if you don’t want to spend the night in the brig, and you do want to live a few more days…” She offers me the dress. “Then this is your way out.”
We queue up for dinner as we did for breakfast, but the atmosphere in the Mess Hall is different. Men aren’t wearing their vests, and have tucked in their shirts. Women are in dresses, many with their hair tied back. More of the men look clean-shaven. There’s jittery chatter in the room.
I notice an additional bench has been squeezed in. It’s occupied by the first officers, and Dezeeves is at the centre of it, speaking to Ephraine. You’d never know they’d just been torturing someone.
Dinner is a generous helping of a kind of watery pie of undefined meat with beans, okra and garlic.
I start eating, just as Cosmer and Drake arrive.
But Cosmer sweeps right past us, heading over to a table with pilots from the Training Room.
Drake trails behind with his tray. He stops in his tracks when he notices me.
I think he might walk over to me, but Cosmer calls him, and he walks on.
“Should we…?” I say, shifting on the bench, which now feels hard and uncomfortable beneath me.
“Better not,” Riss replies, stuffing food into her mouth.
I glance at the empty space in front of Cosmer where a meal should be, and process something.
“When prisoners of war are Fully Integrated, they’re just like all other soldiers here? With the same jobs? The same punishments?”
“That’s the plan.”
If they have the same punishments, then they’ll have the same rewards.
My eyes go straight to Dezeeves, picking leisurely at his food and drinking every so often from a small metallic flask.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Riss. I get up before she can protest – and ignore her as she hisses my name after me.
With quick, tight steps, I head towards him.
The first officers gradually become aware of my presence. But I keep my gaze only on Dezeeves.
Hovering opposite him, I say, firmly, “Captain. May I speak with you?”
Ephraine bends forwards.
In his gruff voice, he mutters, “This is the second time you’re bothering us. Where is your keeper? Do you know how wrong it is to address the top bench, without being called? Dezeeves—”
“I’m sure Ara means no harm,” Dezeeves cuts in, gaze fixed on me. “She is, of course, still Integrating and learning our Accords.” He drops his fork. Pushes back his ratty silver ponytail. “How may we help you, Ara? More useful information to share?”
“Oh, no. This is a personal request,” I say, glancing at the officers.
“Do not worry yourself about my officers. There is nothing you could tell me that they would feel discomforted to hear, or that I would not in turn tell them. We have no secrets between us.”
I swallow. Clear my throat. “I recently learned that Cosmer gave up his Sky Provision when he became a soldier—”
“We are aware,” he interjects.
“He gave it up for me. Or rather, for my household. On the ground.”
His face hasn’t moved a muscle.
“You were aware of that also?”
He rests his head on his pale knuckles. “You must stop assuming I do not know things about my ship or my crew, Ara. It’s becoming patronising.”
My knees threaten to give way.
I steel myself.
“My request, Captain—”
“Just Dezeeves, please. Titles are so redundant. And against the Hevallan spirit of equality.”
“My request, Dezeeves,” I begin again, feeling winded, “In light of me being now on board the ship, and receiving Provision here – is that Cosmer’s Sky Provision be reinstated.”
Ephraine sputters, his silver eye rolling in its socket.
“I appreciate the heroism, Ara,” Dezeeves says calmly. “But I am afraid that would be Cosmer’s decision to make. Not yours.” He looks at me askance. “And would your family on the ground not still require the additional Provision from his Sacrifice?”
“That’s just it,” I say, more confident now. “If I am to be Fully Integrated within the week, my prisoner status will be removed, and I will be a Hevallan soldier.”
“Yes…”
“Which will mean my brother and grandmother will be entitled to compensation.”
Ephraine laughs harder.
“A Rhavnan prisoner wouldn’t get compensation!”
I say, hunching over him slightly, “I’m half-Rhavnan. But I’m also half-Hevallan. And I wouldn’t be a prisoner. Dezeeves just confirmed I would be a soldier. Fighting for Hevalla. And to deny my family in Hevalla compensation, would be—”
“A breach of The Accords,” someone says, from further up the table. “On Benefits. Article Two.”
My eyes travel up to Meg.
It’s like I’m seeing her for the first time.
She’s lined her dark, deep-set eyes in black powder, which makes them even more prominent, and she’s in a dramatic low-cut dress with pluming sleeves, which is clearly Rhavnan-made.
It shows off how curvy and womanly she is.
I hadn’t noticed how beautiful she was until now.
“Shall I write to The Assembly, Dezeeves?” she says helpfully, eyes glinting. “If you’re amiss of the rules in this unique situation?”
“I am not amiss of the rules, Meg,” he blurts.
Decisively, he says, “Of course Ara’s family in Hevalla would receive compensation.
I had just not considered that particular aspect of her Integration.
” Back to me, he turns serious. “But the matter remains that you are not yet Integrated, and that you are not Cosmer himself, who – being an adult and a second officer – can make his own decisions, I am sure.”