The Forever Ship. Francesca Haig

      Even as I walked down the corridor towards where Zach was kept, I felt the sweat sting my underarms, and my heart pummel my ribs; I walked faster, to make my footsteps match its pace.

      During the years that he’d kept me imprisoned in the Keeping Rooms, I used to wait for his visits. I’d counted the days, the meal trays, the steps outside my cell. Even though I’d hated him, he’d been the only person who ever came, except for The Confessor. My hatred for him, and my longing to see him, had curdled in me.

      Now it was my turn, taking those steps down the corridor to the room where Zach waited.

      Simon had been given a break, but there were still four guards outside the room, stepping aside and unbolting the door for me as I approached.

      It was barely a room, really – more like a cupboard, though a narrow window up high let in some light. Dust mounted in the corners, where empty crates were stacked.

      When I stepped inside, ducking under the low lintel, Zach raised his hands to show me how his shackles had been passed through a metal ring screwed to the wall. I put the bowl on the floor and slid it towards him, but he ignored it.

      ‘This is how you choose to treat me?’ he said.

      The door closed behind me. ‘You came to us,’ I said. ‘You knew what to expect.’

      ‘I didn’t expect this,’ he said, shaking his hands so that the chain rattled.

      ‘You did worse to me,’ I said. ‘Four years in the Keeping Rooms. Be grateful that you’ve got fresh air, and sunlight. It’s more than you gave me.’

      ‘Four years?’ he said. ‘Try thirteen.’

      ‘What are you talking about?’

      He cocked his head to the side. ‘You think this is the first time I’ve been your prisoner?’ he said. ‘What about the first thirteen years of our lives? You kept me trapped. You made my own parents wary of me. I couldn’t start school; couldn’t make friends; couldn’t do anything, fit in anywhere, until I was free of you.’ He stared at me unflinchingly. ‘Thirteen years,’ he said again, dragging the words out, making each syllable last. ‘My life couldn’t start until I’d got rid of you. I’ve had to make up for lost time ever since.’

      ‘Don’t blame me for what you’ve done,’ I said. ‘It was your choice – all of it.’ I looked at his hands, and thought of the things they had done. Looked at his mouth, and thought of the orders he had given. ‘You’ve done unspeakable things.’

      ‘What alternative was there?’ he shouted. ‘Let things continue as they were? Everyone subject to the whims of Omega bodies, that could sicken at any moment?’

      I ignored him. ‘Tell me what you know,’ I said. ‘Where did you move the blast machine? What’s The General planning?’

      He went rigid. ‘I’ve told you. The General’s been freezing me out, ever since you destroyed the database and retook this town.’

      How quickly we were back to his old refrain: everything was my fault. Mine.

      ‘But you still must know,’ I said. ‘You were in the Ark, when they were moving the blast machine out.’

      Night after night, I had groped after that blast machine. I’d forced myself to reach for it, against every instinct that recoiled at the thought of such a weapon. I’d reached for it, clenching my eyes so tightly that I saw white shapes moving in front of the blackness. It made no difference – however hard I strained to see the place, I felt nothing, or worse, a wavering impression: north one day, and two days later gone altogether, or to the west. My seer’s knack for finding things was failing me. Or the blast machine had broken it, as it would break everything in the end.

      ‘I’ve got nothing to tell you,’ Zach said. ‘The General ordered the relocation. I never saw the new site. I already told that to your friend Piper, when he came to badger me.’ Zach’s lips tightened at the memory. ‘Him and The Ringmaster together, asking me the same questions, for hours. Trying to scare me, intimidate me. I told them what I’ve told you: I never went there. I don’t know.’

      ‘You’re lying to me,’ I said.

      ‘What are you going to do about it?’ he said. ‘Torture me?’ There was a smirk at the edges of his lips.

      I banged on the door. While the guards were unbolting it, I kept my hand to the door, pressing my palm hard against the rough wood and trying to stay calm. Zach eyed me appraisingly. He knew that I would share any pain inflicted on him. Last night, when I’d guessed that Piper and The Ringmaster were in here with him, I’d slept with my body half-braced, awaiting the pain. It hadn’t come – but I didn’t know how long I could expect Piper and The Ringmaster to spare me. It didn’t matter that Zach and not I was responsible for his crimes. It made no difference: my body had become an obstacle between the resistance and what we needed to know.

      Before I rejoined the others in the main hall, I stood for a moment with my back against the wall of the corridor. The guards were locking the door of Zach’s room again, and I felt my breath slowing with the scrape of each bolt sliding home, but flames still hissed at the edge of my vision. The blast was stalking me. How much longer, I wondered, before I joined Xander in the Kissing Tree, and in his silence? How much longer before I surrendered to the blast?

      Piper watched me carefully as I entered the main hall; conversation stopped when I entered.

      ‘Did you get anything out of him?’ The Ringmaster said.

      I shook my head. ‘He says he doesn’t know anything.’

      ‘Do you believe him?’ asked Zoe.

      ‘I don’t know,’ I snapped. ‘I can’t read his mind.’

      Zoe raised her hands in mock surrender, rolling her eyes. ‘Take it easy. Nobody’s suggesting that the two of you are best friends.’

      I busied myself with pouring a cup of water at the side table, so that I could turn away from their stares. The water splashed from my unsteady hands.

      Piper picked up his cup and joined me. ‘Zach’s trying to mess with you,’ he said, without looking at me, as he took the jug and filled his cup. He kept his voice low, so the others couldn’t hear. ‘Don’t let him in your head.’

      I nodded. But he didn’t know that Zach had never been out of it.

       CHAPTER 6

      Sally, Elsa, Xander and I sat in the front room of the holding house as the town’s evening noises rattled past the window. Soldiers off duty; the more orderly footsteps of those still on patrol; the voices of passing townsfolk. When I was last in New Hobart, it had taken me a few days to realise why the town sounded strange. It wasn’t only the aftermath of the battle that had left the town damaged and the residents nervy and furtive. Even after the repairs had begun, and people had returned to the streets, the sound of the city remained different. Eventually I’d realised that it was the nearly total absence of children. At Elsa’s house, around the market, and in the streets, only adult voices were to be heard. There was a whole layer of noise missing: the high voices of children’s chatter; the crying of babies; the sudden shout of a child ambushed in a game. The town was far from silent now – thousands of people lived here, and went about the business of their days – but like a dented bell, New Hobart didn’t ring true.

      My gaze kept straying to where Xander sat, leaning against Sally’s chair with his eyes closed. I thought of Zach, locked in his cell at the Tithe Collector’s office. Zach was my past, Xander was my future. And ahead of us all: the blast, which would be the end of Elsewhere, and the resistance, and any futures that I could envisage.

      Below the large window, another patrol passed – twelve mounted soldiers on their way back from the wall.