Francesca Haig - The Forever Ship

‘You know what it means,’ I said. ‘You can’t expect us to ignore what we’ve learned. If we can save Elsewhere, we’ll be able to end the twinning. Look at Paloma.’

‘I have,’ he said coolly. I followed his gaze. With Zoe standing close behind her, Paloma’s false leg was barely visible, a few shades darker than the rest of her flesh.

‘She’s free of the twinning,’ I said. ‘They all are, over there.’

‘And they’re all mutants,’ he said. ‘You’re asking us to make a huge sacrifice.’

I noticed that he still spoke of the Alphas as us .

‘No,’ I said. ‘We’re asking you to take your fair share. We’ve carried the burden, for centuries. Not just the infertility, but everything else too. We’ve done it alone, while you’ve lived comfortably in your intact bodies.’

‘Do you realise what you’re asking? You’re asking us to give that up.’

‘It must be nice,’ I said, ‘to be so convinced of your own perfection.’

His nostrils flared slightly. ‘Easy for you Omegas to claim the moral high ground. You’re not the ones who’ll be taking this medicine. You want us to risk everything by taking a taboo medicine that you don’t even understand.’

He was right: I didn’t understand how it worked. Even Paloma didn’t know the details of that. The only proof I had was Paloma, and a handful of documents from the Ark. And The Ringmaster was right, too, that it wouldn’t be the Omegas taking the medicine. The treatment was for the next generation, so it would be wasted on us, since the one mutation that all Omegas shared was our infertility.

He continued. ‘Untwinning – the kind that you’re describing – it wouldn’t have saved my wife.’

His wife had died in childbirth, when the Omega twin, with an enlarged head, had become stuck. Since confiding this to me, he’d never mentioned it again, until now, and the one time I’d raised it he had responded with fury. But now he raised it himself, unprompted, his voice tired.

‘It wasn’t the twinning that killed Gemma,’ he said. ‘It was the freak she gave birth to. And you want me to help you make this untwinning happen – to make the whole next generation into freaks.’

There was a long silence.

‘This isn’t for us,’ I said. ‘It won’t save us, or change us, or raise the dead. But there’s a chance for the next generation’s lives to be their own.’

He was still staring across the room at Paloma’s false leg, and at Piper and Simon.

‘But what kind of life can it be, really?’ he said.

I looked at him, and pity mingled with my anger. How could he ask? I followed his gaze. There was Piper, his wide shoulders bent over a map as he spoke with Simon, and Paloma, whose bond with Zoe sometimes felt like the only growing thing in a scorched world. How could The Ringmaster look at them and speak of imperfection, or of meaningless lives?

‘For all your perfection,’ I said, ‘you see nothing.’ The Ringmaster looked at me strangely – I hadn’t meant to, but I’d laughed as I spoke. ‘Do you really think it’s the deformations that make our lives impossible? I’m not stupid enough to say the deformations aren’t hard. But the real problem’s the settlements, the tithes, the curfews, the whippings. The Alphas who spit as they ride past us, and the raiders who raid our settlements, knowing the Council won’t protect us.’

‘But I have protected you,’ he said. ‘I freed this town, and fought alongside you, because we agreed that the taboo had to be upheld.’

‘We agreed that what Zach and The General were doing was wrong,’ I said.

‘And what if I think what you want to do, with Elsewhere’s medicine, is wrong?’ he said.

I did my best to keep my breath steady. ‘Then you must make your choice,’ I said. ‘Just as I have.’

*

When one of The Ringmaster’s soldiers brought a tray of food to the table, Piper glanced towards the room where Zach was locked up. ‘We should take him some food,’ he said.

‘Why?’ snapped Zoe. ‘Let him go hungry. It’s the least he deserves.’

‘We need him healthy,’ Piper said. ‘If he weakens, or sickens, it puts Cass at risk.’

‘I’m not suggesting we starve him to death,’ Zoe said. ‘But it won’t kill him to miss a few meals. I’m not going to be waiting on him hand and foot, that’s for sure.’

‘I’ll go,’ I said, standing. I bent to spoon more stew into my bowl, and grabbed the last hunk of flatbread.

The Ringmaster and Piper were both watching me as I straightened.

‘See what you can get out of him,’ The Ringmaster said.

‘You don’t need to tell me what to do,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to see him for fun.’

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.’