Nabukko, page 27
“Keir! That is not helping!”
Raud laughed, the sound crude and crazed. “That the worst you got, Fish Slagger?”
Keir took a single step toward Raud, but Gia was jumping between them before either one could finish raising their fists.
“Stop! That’s an order! Raud. Outside. Now!”
Several people averted their eyes. Others sat up straighter as if concerned Gia would pounce on them next.
Neither Keir nor Raud moved for one painful second. Then Raud huffed and mumbled, “Whatever,” as he stormed out of the mess hall.
Gia, to her credit, didn’t hesitate before marching after him. People dashed out of her way as she strode by them, disappearing through the door with her shoulders straight and her back tall.
No one so much as coughed.
“Okay, show’s over, you vultures! Go back to devouring your actual meals!” Lethia sang out, spinning around and flapping her arms at everyone.
The room erupted into gossip all at once, people muttering and some even pointing toward us. I wanted to cower behind my hands, but I picked up my fork and started tapping it against the table instead, keeping a straight face.
The tension, the chaos, the swell of curious glances and invigorated emotions . . . it was overwhelming, and I had to force myself to breathe normally.
In through my nose. Out through my mouth.
In through my nose. Out through my—
“Eoghan, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Martel cautioned. “Gia can handle herself.”
I blinked, realizing that Eoghan was standing and gazing toward the mess hall entrance. Was he going to chase after her?
“Martel’s right. You don’t want to pull a crowd after them. Wait a few minutes, at least,” Keir commanded. I looked over at him, expecting him to be staring at the entrance as well.
But he wasn’t. His eyes were locked on me. I couldn’t read the emotions behind them. But it was obvious he was still vying for control over his angrier inclinations.
Eoghan sat down wordlessly, but his eyes never left the doorway.
I felt horribly guilty at that moment, knowing I had unintentionally contributed to the mounting problems between Gia and Raud.
“Will they . . . be okay?” I finally got out.
“Ah, I wouldn’t worry 'bout it much, little spy. They’ve broken up, like, five times just in the past few months! It’s how they roll.”
“Six, actually.”
“Well, I’m not counting like you, Eoghy.”
I swallowed uncomfortably, twisting my ring around and around my finger.
“Whatever’s going on between them right now, it was no cause for Raud to say that,” Keir stated, his eyes still on me. Everyone’s heads bobbed in agreement.
“I’m sorry, but what did Raud say that was so offensive?”
“Eff, you’re joking! Fell straight off the comet!”
“Uh—no. I’m being serious. Guys—stop looking at me like that. What am I missing?”
“You’ve never heard the phrase ‘boil and bubble’? I suppose it’s not as ubiquitous as we all assumed . . . every Academy graduate should know about it, though,” Martel said, whispering when he mentioned the insult Raud had slung at me.
“Eff,” Keir said, sitting down next to me on the side opposite of Eoghan. “It’s very taboo slang, especially in the Academy. You’ll get suspended on the spot for using it outside of the history classroom lecture.”
“Why? I mean, it sounds like what happens to your blood in space, but why is that—”
“The Kuiplite Uprising?”
I shook my head. Keir’s eyes softened. “Sorry, I forget about your memories sometimes.”
Nothing about the Kuiplite Uprising rang any bells, but I just nodded. Who was I to say what was missing and what had never been there in the first place?
“The Kuiplite Uprising was a small, but gruesome, religious rebellion. Do you know who the Kuiplites are?”
I shook my head again. Maybe I could knock a few more memories into place if I kept this up.
“The Kuiplites are—were—nomadic pilgrims of the Kuiper Belt, and their life’s purpose was to touch every object in the Kuiper Belt.”
“Really? That sounds so . . . pointless.”
Keir shrugged. “Some religious reason.”
“It was part of a complex ritual, actually,” Martel said. “The journey symbolized their dedication to the Birth of the Universe. The goal was to spend one’s entire life completing the cycle. If a pilgrim finished early, they were expected to complete a ceremonial suicide, regardless of age, to offer their remaining life essence to the Great Birth.”
I gasped. “That’s barbaric!”
Martel shrugged. “That’s culture.”
“So, what do these ghastly pilgrims have to do with, um, you know—the phrase?”
“The Accountancy had a brilliant idea to establish an ice mining empire in the Kuiper Belt.”
“Ah, I can see where this is going.”
“Yeah, the Kuiplites were peeved, to put it lightly. But the Accountancy didn’t consider them or their practices much of a problem.”
“Let me guess—these pilgrims took an oath of poverty or something?”
“Not quite—but they certainly lacked resources, wealth, or fast ships. That part was on purpose, though. Didn’t want to finish your pilgrimage too quickly, remember?”
“I’m still baffled by that. But go on.”
“The Kuiplites were scattered with nothing but their voices to express their outrage. But then came along a man called Arrokoth.”
“Oh! Arrokoth! He’s a nightmare, Eff! Earned the nickname of Bloody Arro. More like Bloody Wrangler, though,” Lethia said.
“Wrangler?”
“Like with creatures? Herd 'em all up, wrangle 'em together with some rope? 'cept it wasn’t with creatures. Not exactly.” Lethia crossed her arms and leaned against Martel’s shoulder. “Disgusting is what he was.”
“What did he do?”
“Well, he was a mercenary before he became a Kuiplite,” Keir explained. “Had some skills in taking over ships, it seems. He convinced a group of the pilgrims to attack a mining vessel. It was well-planned; the mining vessel was unprepared. Arrokoth used the crew to make a . . . religious demonstration.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear about the details, but I was already in this far. “What kind of demonstration, Keir?”
“He divided the crew into groups. Tied them all up facing each other. Then floated each group out the airlock. He wanted them to watch each other’s blood, well . . ."
“Boil and bubble?” I whispered.
“Yeah. He floated each cluster separately, so that everyone could watch as their family and friends died in space.”
“What? Europa’s Ice . . . it was a family vessel?”
Keir nodded solemnly. “Families. Children. Arrokoth killed them all, then broadcast the image of the mining ship surrounded by clusters of its crew.”
“Like balloons at a party. Dead, red balloons . . ." Lethia muttered.
“Skegs . . ."
“All the Institutions were furious. Arrokoth and his followers were hunted down and executed within the week.”
“What happened to the rest of Kuiplites? The ones that didn’t join Arrokoth?”
“Most attempted to resume their journeys around the Belt,” Martel said. “But many, unfortunately, were targets of hate crimes from outraged citizens who lumped all Kuiplites together with Arrokoth’s lot. Naturally, their number of followers dwindled to nonexistent after the Uprising.”
“We’re better off, I say,” Lethia said, jutting her chin out.
“While some of their practices were a little odd, all members who completed the ceremonial suicide volunteered,” Martel countered.
“Volunteering doesn’t count if they were brainwashed to begin with!”
“Guys, not now?”
Lethia huffed, but didn’t complain. Martel simply nodded at Keir.
“So, what? Raud really hates me then?”
“Hate’s too mild. Try despises, detests, or loathes,” Lethia offered.
“Okay, okay. I get the picture, thanks.”
An awkward silence descended over the table.
Eoghan finally spoke, but his voice sounded strange. Like it was laced with venom. I couldn’t say for sure if it was directed at me, though. “What did you tell Gia to do, Eff?”
I gaped at Eoghan in surprise. Keir’s jaw clenched, and his fingers started rhythmically thumping against the table. Lethia’s head tilted. Martel shifted slightly as the twins shyly glanced up.
“Is that an accusation, Eoghan?” Keir murmured, his body rigid.
Keir heard what Raud had said, and yet he was defending me? My guilt climbed to a new level.
Eoghan finally shifted his gaze from the mess hall’s door to the figure on the other side of me. His eyes reminded me of intentionally burned cookies.
“No.” Eoghan worked his jaw like he wanted to say more, but nothing else came out.
Everyone was still on edge. I needed to step in before this escalated more.
“I didn’t tell Gia to cheat on Raud,” I told Eoghan. “Or to go sleep with you, Keir.” Luna help me. My face was burning up.
“Then what—?”
“Listen, I don’t want to recount a private conversation I had with Gia, okay? But it’s nothing you all don’t already know. Gia and Raud are . . ."
“Dysfunctional trash?” Lethia suggested.
“Sure. That’s apt enough. I won’t deny that I encouraged Gia to consider . . . alternatives.”
“And my name just happened to come up?” Keir asked.
"Um, well . . . I wasn’t the one who looped you in . . ."
“Sheesh,” Lethia said. “We all know Gia’s been propositioning Keir, Eff. Don’t be so shy! And Keir, get off her back about it.”
“I wasn’t—”
“It’s fine.”
Another awkward silence.
“I should go check on her,” Eoghan announced.
Martel frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good—”
“I’ve waited a few minutes. Just like you suggested. But I’m going out now.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” I said, looking at Eoghan. I didn’t know why I asked, but the unease in my chest was growing.
Eoghan glanced at me, but the cookies were still burned. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. Thanks, though,” he added like a faux-polite afterthought.
I’m sure the hurt was evident on my face. I’ve never been an expert at hiding my emotions.
Eoghan gathered his tray and left.
Chapter 23
It wasn’t long after Eoghan left before Martel suggested that he, too, should be going.
“Although,” he added, “I plan on retiring for the night. Not hoisting myself into more drama. Unlike another of our ranks.”
I proffered a weak smile at the attempted humor.
Lethia tugged me up from the bench a moment later. “Let’s go, spy. Fine night for a walk, eh?”
“Isn’t it supposed to rain?”
“Like I said, fantastic weather!”
I didn’t quite want to head back to the dorms yet, just in case Gia, Raud, or Eoghan were having a discussion. So, I let Lethia pull me outside into the night.
Orange sunlight crusted over the landscape, breaking into black shadows along the edges and creases of the valley walls. The air was damp, nearly bursting with capacity, but it hadn’t yet rained. The moment was almost here, though.
Keir silently joined Lethia and me as our feet clomped and padded down the path toward the Horticulture District. I didn’t say anything to him, but his presence was welcome and somehow comforting.
“Your friend Jupe looks marvelous tonight,” Keir whispered in my ear.
I smiled, some of the night’s tension lost to the growing darkness. I stared up at the Hot Jupiter, its outline large and intricate, the layers of hydrogen and helium swirling magnificently in bands around its globe.
“He is putting on a fine show, isn’t he?” I pried my eyes away from the planet to give Keir my attention. “About Gia . . .”
“I know. And stop feeling guilty about it.”
“I never said—”
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”
“Does Gia’s interest bother you?”
Keir cocked his head at me. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
“They shouldn’t assume.”
He smiled at me. “No, they shouldn’t.”
I went back to studying the celestial objects beyond this planet’s atmosphere. “Why doesn’t Beckle ever join you in the mess hall? I mean, I get why he wouldn’t want to sit with a whole group, but I’ve never seen him in there, not even once.”
“Beckle’s got an arrangement with Merula. He gets food from one of the preparers either before or after typical meal times, and he eats privately. Don’t know where, and I don’t really care. He followed the same sort of schedule on the Nabukko, so there was no reason not to do the same here,” Keir explained.
“Whoa, I didn’t think the Academy allowed exceptions like that.” I paused, bringing my hand to my chin. “Actually, I take that back,” I said as a memory bubbled up. “I’ve heard of one or two instances where the Academy made special accommodations. Jennifer Balca was one of those.”
“Who?”
“You never heard of Jenny Balca? She was a few years ahead of me—graduated the Academy the same year I started it—but she’s a paraplegic. Yes, I see your exaggerated eyebrows, Mister Leaf. Jenny’s paraplegia couldn’t be fixed by surgery, cyber enhancements, or gene edits; she tried it all. The doctors couldn’t figure out why nothing worked at first, but apparently she has the only known case of some sort of muscle disease—don’t ask me to tell you the name. But, she had to use an old-fashioned Mech to get around. Kind of hard to use with some of the Academy requirements, as you can imagine.”
“A Mech? Space, might as well just go back to cave-dwelling at that point.”
I made a show of looking around the camp, a sly smile on my face.
Keir chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, I see your point. So this Jenny Balca—she got a commission on a ship?”
“Not since I last heard. I didn’t know her personally, but she became a kind of inspiration for some of the cadets. ‘If Jenny Balca can do it, then so can you’ sort of stuff. But, she received a high-level position in human-cyber research straight out of the Academy.”
“To be a test subject or something? That sounds awful.”
I shook my head. “No! She was the researcher. I think she was working on full caudal cyber replacements. That’s why the Academy made an exception for her—she was apparently a genius in her field.”
Keir whistled. “Leading research right there! I bet the Judiciary is interested in her.”
“Yes, I imagine so. I don’t know how I feel about that, though.”
“Why not? Ground troops would be better equipped, to say the least. Safer for them, safer for us.”
“You remember the history lessons of Earth before the Transition, don’t you?”
“Ah no! You’ve bit the propaganda train!” Keir teased, nudging me lightly with his elbow.
“I could say the same about you,” I joked.
“And you should. Don’t start being shy with me now, Eff.” Keir’s blue eyes twinkled at me. I tried to ignore them, but it was distractingly difficult.
“Well, then . . . I think extra fortifications for Judicators aren’t needed. Better tools are good, yes, but we don’t need super soldiers. It’s not like there are true wars anymore since the Transition. So why invest in that kind of tech?” I said.
“You make a good point. But there’s always the unknown to worry about. Or aliens.”
We both laughed. “Skegs, do you think we’ll ever meet other intelligent life-forms, beyond animals?” I asked.
“Is this daydreaming or wishful thinking right now? I just need to know how to respond,” Keir said with a smile.
“Both, I suppose. You said Beckle was really good with machines, AL drives specifically, yes? I’ll bet the Academy would bend a few rules for him if he could make progress on those.”
Keir grunted. “I don’t know about improvements, but yeah, allowing him to have special meal accommodations doesn’t really put much of a burden on them.” Something about Keir’s wording bothered me, but before I could put my finger on it, he shrugged and said, “But who knows what else they’ve done for him?”
“You don’t know? Aren’t you his friend?”
“Beckle’s . . . only interested in his work. Literally nothing else. I think he tolerates me because I never push him to do any more than that.”
“We could invite him to eat with us one day,” I suggested.
Keir shook his head. “Wouldn’t do any good. I tried that a few times, back when we both started serving on the Nabukko, but he’s just not interested.”
Lethia snorted loudly beside us. “I’ll never understand why they let someone like him in the Academy in the first place! Keep him at home, at least, where they can keep an eye on him, I say—like that Jenny lady of yours.”
I blinked. I’d been so focused on Keir that I’d forgotten Lethia was here with us. I cringed inside, mentally reminding myself not to be so . . . distracted.
“He’s just a bit odd, and misunderstood. No need to be so hateful, Lethia,” Keir chided.
“No hate, just facts. I, for one, will never understand 'im. He’s got a bad streak about 'im,” Lethia warned.
“He’s got a better understanding of ships than you ever will,” Keir snapped.
“I’m not insultin’ you, shadow! I’m tryin’ to warn you! No need to throw a low punch!”
Keir’s jaw ticked, and I could tell he wanted to throw a physical punch, but then he glanced at me. I shook my head. He unclenched his fists and let out a breath.
“You don’t need to warn me about Beckle, Lethia.”
“If you say so.”
Keir sighed. “Sorry for snapping at you.”
Lethia’s eyes went wide. “Did the shadow himself just apologize?”
