Brightly Burning(81)
The customs officer became engrossed in his tab unit, flicking and swiping his finger between documents, making a series of noncommittal sounds as he evaluated one piece of information against another. “You’re twenty and interviewing with the engineering corps, and she’s twenty-eight and looking for fieldwork?”
“The captain made special arrangements,” Jon jumped in, smooth as ever. “I’m his nephew, and she . . .” He hesitated, clearly grasping for a good lie. “Well, she’s pregnant, you see.” I would have made an involuntary noise, but Jon grabbed my hand just in time and squeezed hard enough to stop me from reacting. “Please don’t put that in your file, though. It’s a very delicate situation, but I’m sure you can understand why our captain doesn’t want to send some poor, defenseless baby down to that freezing deathtrap. A job transfer is her only hope.”
Jon’s histrionics worked, softening up our interrogator just enough. The firm line of his mouth wavered, and he looked at me with sympathy. “My partner and I are having a baby soon. I understand completely.” Then he wrinkled his nose, made a few taps onto his tab screen, and let us go. As soon as we were clear, I punched Jon in the arm so hard, he hissed pain through his teeth.
“Pregnant? What on earth were you thinking? I obviously don’t look pregnant.”
He shrugged me off. “He’ll just assume you’re in the early stages. And moreover, I’ve just handed us a perfect backup story. Now if he wasn’t convinced that you’re twenty-eight, or indeed Jane Elliot at all, he’ll just assume you’re some poor, pregnant teenager who lied to save her unborn child. Instead of, you know, a revolutionary who’s wanted for treason.”
“I’m not a revolutionary,” I grumbled as we made our way toward the central elevator bank. His logic for the double cover was annoyingly good. But now I was saddled with the knowledge that someone had found it one hundred percent convincing that I was currently with child.
The elevator arrived and we stepped inside, my eyes searching the buttons for my destination. Each residential level was named for a famous American, and my eyes scanned past Roosevelt, Lincoln, Hamilton to find my target: Gates Level, where the captain had confirmed Officer Xiao and the crew were. I moved to press the button, only to find Jon’s hand on my arm, stopping me. “We have to go to our interviews first. They’re scheduled for eight.” He pressed the button for the Roosevelt level.
“Seriously? We’re going through with the whole ruse?” My whole body buzzed with anticipation for my reunion with Hugo.
“Of course. You’ll still have plenty of time for your reunion.” We zipped down, until the doors opened and Jon pointed me in a leftward direction. “We’ll meet back here in an hour. Good luck!”
We ended up meeting up more like two hours later. My interview with what I came to find out was termed the Life and Sustenance Department took forever, first because the overly friendly interviewer insisted on talking about life aboard our respective ships, exchanging fleet trivia, and then because she was inordinately fascinated in all I had to share about soybeans. I spent nearly forty minutes mining my memory for everything I’d learned in school and doing my best not to make it obvious I hadn’t tilled the soil in aid of soybean production in my life. She couldn’t have been interested in apples or carrots? By the time I found Jon back at the elevator bank, I was exhausted.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“Nailed it.” He punched the elevator button with gusto. “I saw no point in blowing the interview, even if it’s just a cover.”
This time, he let me choose the Gates Level and up, up, up we went, the ride feeling like forever. It was likely only about two, three minutes, but it demonstrated the scale of the Lady Liberty. We followed a sign that denoted one of six corridors, branching out from the elevator bank like spokes, as the one that would lead me to my quarry. After walking what felt like a long stretch down a white, glowing hallway, we came to a door marked Ward K. Unlike on the Stalwart, where wards simply labeled a corridor of rooms, on the Lady Liberty, each ward was a fully functioning microcosm, like a tiny city-state in space. When we pressed the door-release button and stepped inside, we found ourselves in the middle of a bustling town square, a central hub of stores, restaurants, and leisure destinations.
“By the moon, they have a bar!” Jon exclaimed with some wonder, and I had to grab him by the arm to stop him from charging off in search of a drink.
“And a library stand,” I observed, eyeing the tab station with a pang of jealousy. It was so easy to get books, food, drink, entertainment here. All the luxuries of life in one place. No wonder Hugo had told me not to worry about the Ingrams ending up here. It was some consolation prize.
I did a turn, assessing where the residential wings would be, wondering how I was supposed to find Xiao. Sergei had just said Ward K, Gates Level, and nothing else. I caught sight of a wall-mounted tab screen behind us, its big blue letters blinking INFORMATION. A few taps brought up a map. The map led me to a resident index, and Xiao was the only name in the X listing, making her a quick find. Her quarters were down a corridor to our right. I practically took off at a sprint, not bothering to see if Jon was keeping up.
Every door had a bright tab screen with the inhabitants’ names emblazoned on it, and they whipped past my peripheral vision like dancing candlelight, until I found the one that said XIAO. And FAIRFAX, CARMICHAEL, and POOLE. A shiver ran through me. I touched a finger to the tab screen, bringing up a screen of options, choosing the CALL ON THIS HOUSEHOLD button.