Brightly Burning(60)

But the fourth was ominous. I read it twice.


Dear Stella,

You were always the Earth science expert, instead of me. Do you think it’s safe to go back there? Jon’s really got me thinking about it lately. He told me not to write to you. Said to be careful what I say. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was jealous.

I hope you’re okay. It’s odd I haven’t heard from you. Joy is great, but I miss you. If I have to go down to Earth and face who knows what, I’d want you to be there.

I miss you.

George


It was out of character for him. Paranoid. Emotional. And Jon had told him not to write. Did Jon know what I knew, about Mason reading our messages? I was sure it wasn’t because he was jealous. My eyes began to strain—?a symptom of the red room—?and I gave up trying to read. I could still faintly hear Charlotte snoring in the living room. I did my best to convince my body I was tired, crawling under the covers, not even bothering to undress, and tried to nap.


I slept longer than expected, waking to the rich smell of curry, which set me immediately salivating. Curry meant it was Thursday, and substantive food meant it was dinnertime. I found Charlotte setting two plates and sets of utensils on the dining table, a tureen of steaming brown sauce and vegetables next to a container of rice.

“It’s lucky you checked in with the port authority before coming here,” Charlotte said, “or they would have sent only enough for one.” That she would not have shared her meal was clear.

“What about Aunt Reed?” I asked.

“She hasn’t been fit for solid food for two months. And it’s a good thing, as we can only afford so many rations. I take it you paid for yourself?”

I nodded. “I earn a good salary on board the Rochester.” We sat down, Charlotte at the head of the table, me to her left side. Charlotte sat where her mother used to, eyes flicking to each empty chair in turn, then to me.

“Who would have thought that I’d end up an orphan, just like you?” She threw it out there, a passing comment before she went ahead and started serving herself. I pointedly did not draw attention to the fact that her mother wasn’t dead yet.

“What are your plans?” I asked before going to town on my curry and rice. If they were truly bankrupt, the Empire wouldn’t let Charlotte simply hang out on board for the rest of her life. You either worked or had enough money not to.

“I’ll inherit our quarters, of course,” Charlotte started. “Mama didn’t have time before she got sick to arrange a match for me, but I’ve had my eye on one of the tea workers aboard.” She paused a beat, looking me hard in the eyes. “Don’t you dare breathe a word of that to her. It’ll kill her straightaway if she knows I’d deign to marry a field hand.”

I nodded dumbly, looking past the threat to the more pressing, underlying question. “Why are there tea workers on board the Empire? The Mumbai is the only tea ship in the fleet.”

Charlotte waved me off, nonchalant. “Oh, we started growing our own a few years ago, imported some workers from the Mumbai. Saves us fuel and import fees.”

The Empire had imported workers from the Mumbai to grow their own tea. Charlotte continued talking, oblivious to my no-doubt-concerned expression.

“He doesn’t earn a substantial salary, but it should be enough, with my owning our quarters outright and all. Worst case, I figure out how to hold down a job.” She wrinkled her nose at that. “You can meet him, if you like. There’s a dance tonight.”

A rasping cry sounded from Aunt Reed’s room. “Charlotte, where is my dinner!”

Charlotte pushed back from the table with a sigh and retreated to care for her mother, leaving me to finish my meal.

I didn’t have an appropriate outfit for dancing, so reluctantly Charlotte lent me something of hers, bemoaning loudly that we were the same size and thus she felt obligated. We left her mother in the care of a shift nurse and made our way toward the heart of the ship, to the old cultural center I remembered well. But I’d never been old enough to attend any of the dances held here, and found the Empire’s idea of a night of frivolity quite other from that on the Stalwart. There was no DJ mixing digi-tunes on a tab, but a chamber orchestra playing. Everyone was doing dances they all seemed to know the steps to, so I sat firmly on the sidelines while Charlotte flirted and danced with her tea farmer, Abhishek, or Abe for short. A boy named Edward took an interest in me and kept prattling on about different types of tea-cultivation methods. I could have been a tree, and he still would have talked on and on. I was bored out of my gourd, but I did glean some more useful information: the Empire was growing not only tea but fruit. They had only one small orchard, but nonetheless. It meant that Jon was onto something. It seemed the Stalwart was being phased out.

I hated that I couldn’t write to him, not with Mason reading. I’d been back on the fleet for only a day, but I felt off-kilter. Treading water while I waited for Aunt Reed to die. I shook away the mere morbidity of the thought, grabbing Edward’s hand and demanding he teach me the next dance. Over the next hour, I pranced around in a circle, making a fool of myself and a mess of bruises of Edward’s feet, but it was, in some vague measure, a bit of fun. It was an unexpected emotion for the trip, and the only thing that made returning to the red room that night bearable.