21. The People We Become #2
“We get some deserters. But it’s a tough life. You’d eventually run out of osimidite and food, if you stole any, and what then? No village would take you in. Watchers would shoot you on sight.”
“That’s Hevalla,” I stress. “What about other countries? Where you could be anyone? Start over?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. I don’t suppose they’d be any kinder to a deserter. Or to Hevallans. You know our way of living isn’t very understood.”
I sigh.
And then we’re standing. I dress quickly, and we head back to his ship.
The closer we get, the deeper my sense is that – for two people supposedly doing the right thing – it does feel more like we’re making a terrible mistake.
Cosmer loads up a large satchel that was in his ship with tinned food from the base. Apparently, he does that regularly. He chatters away to me about how he doesn’t know who stocks up the food there, or why. But they don’t seem to have noticed that he takes it, and he’s grateful.
I hardly say a thing.
He tries to get me to fly the way back, but I keep making mistakes, and he has to keep repeating himself, or doing things himself.
Eventually, he moves me gently to the seat beside him and takes over the controls. The ship falls silent.
I stare out at the clouds. They’d looked like cotton to me on the way up. Now, they look like spectres.
The desert island already feels like something that happened to someone else.
I find myself thinking over every conversation we had.
And I find one I didn’t like.
“Cosmer,” I say quietly.
He mumbles something to indicate he’s listening.
“What was it that you wanted to tell me? But you said you wanted to wait until we were back on the ship?”
“Not now,” he says simply.
“Now,” I insist.
“Ara. I’m concentrating.”
“But I’m worrying about you. And what it could be.”
“Well, don’t.”
“But you’re keeping something from me,” I state. “When I was so honest with you, just now. Even about… about me and Drake.”
He groans, loudly.
“What?”
“I don’t understand why we can’t have a single conversation without his name coming up.”
“You’re changing the subject,” I say.
“Ara. I only didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our perfect morning.”
The words, an echo of what he said earlier, now grate on me.
“But why?” I add, bitterly, “Were you worried I wouldn’t sleep with you, if I knew?”
He looks wounded for a second.
Then he asks, almost tiredly, “Do you already regret it all, Ara? Is that what this is about? Because honestly, I had the feeling you would.”
“What are you talking about?” I snap.
“You know what I’m talking about. We’re telling each other we love each other. We rushed to have sex. I’m an officer. You’re a prisoner.” He strains. “This… You—”
“You said it yourself,” I say, talking over him. “I’ll be FI’d soon. Then it won’t matter.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “Then it won’t matter, but I don’t know, your magic connection with the other guy just might—”
“Shut up! I never should have told you about it. I knew you were going to be like this. Riss knew, too—”
“Riss knew? What, I’m the last person to know about my girlfriend’s bond with another man?”
I stare at him. I’m furious at what he’s saying.
But also…
“I’m your girlfriend?”
He looks at me. “I thought you would be. When we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”
“I want to be,” I say.
Eyes forwards again, he says, “I’m not going to argue with you. If you really want to know what I was going to tell you, I’ll just tell you. You already know part of it.” His voice wavers. “When I came up here—”
He winces, like it’s physically hurting him to talk.
“It’s okay,” I say, letting my knee touch his.
“I didn’t know any of the things I know now, like where there are food stashes, or how I could sign up for missions on the ground.” He pauses. “Back then, I thought my only option to eat was, well. To trade.”
“Trade what?”
“Hooch. Or…” he trails off, glancing up briefly at the valve above us.
A memory surfaces in my mind. How giddy he’d been last night. The words Drake had spoken, so smugly.
I think high is the correct term.
And I understand.
“Is osimidite something you can smoke?” I ask, carefully.
“You inhale it. It relaxes you. Makes you happy. Really happy.” He clarifies, “It’s strictly against The Accords for anyone to be using it like that. Only engineers are even allowed in the Osimidite Chamber – the big one on The Emperor, that is.”
I blink at him, seeing where this is going.
My body feels taut. Like it knows that whatever he says next will alter my whole world.
“You didn’t start stealing it.”
He faces me. “I had to. I had to eat.” One hand still on the wheel, he ticks the steps off the fingers of his other. “Hooch to bribe engineers. Osimidite to bribe soldiers. Food, so I could eat – and make more hooch.”
He shudders.
It breaks my heart.
“For a while,” he continues, voice shaky, “I was doing good. Doing great. I was sixteen, remember. I thought I was invincible, and super smart for finding a way to, I guess, break their system – a way I could get me and you and my mother fed. But every time you go in the Chamber, you’re breathing in tiny particles that come off it when cannisters are filled.
I couldn’t risk wasting oxygen and being found out, so I didn’t wear a mask, like the engineers. And, over time…”
“You got addicted,” I finish for him.
“Yes.” His hands tighten on the wheel. “And, the worst part is, I knew I was getting addicted. And I didn’t mind.
I was seeing awful things up here. I was scared.
And worried about the people back home. And miserable.
And hungry, all the time. The gas would take all of that away.
” He exhales. “But it always wore off. And then I’d just want more. ”
“Last night,” I start. “When you left the morale booster—”
“I shouldn’t have gone down there. I haven’t taken it in six months.
Not since I became an officer, and properly met Riss.
She helped me. Got me off it.” He pauses.
“So, I couldn’t have come home. I couldn’t possibly face my mother – face you – as a half-dead huffer.
” His eyes plead with mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Do you think less of me?”
I put my hand on his leg.
“I think, you did what you needed to do. To survive.”
I rest my head on his shoulder.
“And,” I continue, “I’m just happy that now, we can survive together.”
Static crackles from Cosmer’s radio. Dezeeves’ calm voice feeds through – and makes me nauseous.
“Cosmer. What is your exact location? We have a report that your ship was seen leaving The Emperor?”
Cosmer lifts the radio to his mouth. “Yes. We’re coming back now.”
“Good. Because I will remind you Ara’s corrective instruction begins in twenty minutes.”
“I know. I mean, confirmed.”
Ahead, beyond the clouds, the hanging carousel looms into view. It’s no longer beautiful to me.
It’s a manmade blight on the planet.
An assault.
It’s the ugliest sight I’ve ever seen.
On the way up to The Bridge, we stop at Deck 8, which Cosmer says is the Gundeck and Armoury. He tells me to stay close to him and keep my head down.
And I see why. The soldiers on this deck seem the fiercest of the bunch.
Older men and women, many missing teeth, eyes, limbs.
They’re assembled around the perimeter of the room, all seated by their own porthole.
Under each porthole is a control table of sorts, with a bronze and rounded mechanism underneath it, that goes out through the wall.
I realise that those are the breeches of cannons, and each control table must operate one.
And these soldiers are bored. Their eyes are on us from the moment we walk in.
I get the feeling this must be the place where older, experienced soldiers are sent if they are no longer able to do the more rigorous activities required of soldiers and pilots – but they’re still itching to do something.
Cosmer nods at them politely. Chats to one or two he knows briefly. Then leads us further down the room, to an armoured hatch protected by a caged window of reinforced glass just off it.
“Wasn’t expecting to see you today,” the woman behind it says, hardly looking at him. Her voice is unusual. High-pitched and wheezy, like the main part of it is missing.
“I’m on a special mission for Dezeeves, Kira,” Cosmer says. “I’m a keeper.” He waves his arms, presenting me.
The woman peers up. “Pretty,” she declares blandly, before going back to her work. “I hope you’re not sleeping with her.”