ARC10

Chapter 19.4

When I look back at her, Hayomo beams at me as if waiting for my gratitude. She thinks this torturous reunion with Moyra is a gift. She must not realize that this has taken the last functioning parts of my heart and crushed them to jelly.

"Follow me," she says in a light voice I have, until now, never suspected she owned. "My work with the Xani has paid off." She escorts me to the side of the ship. Before touching the main dock with one boot, she nods. "We've more to see."

We return to the massive, corroded pile of scrap metal that is the unfortunate assembly of ARC10. The hatch lowers.

"After you, Captain."

The open mouth of the ship bellows out a rancid gust of phantom wind—I can't stop my slight recoil. The empty, darkened airlock beyond the hatch reminds me of the lowest, dingiest, dankest cell in all the URE. "I can embark?"

She nods once, an eerie grin on her face. I've never seen her smile before. Out of respect for her attempt at camaraderie, I don't ask her if this is a trap. But I want to. "How did you do it?" I ask instead, my enthusiasm winning over my trepidation.

"Just get in."

For the rest of the night, I follow her around the ship. She points out little tricks and jigs she's learned during her time with the Xani.

When touring the massive empty room that would be the new marketplace, I freeze. Here, I'm reminded so much of the current marketplace on Level 4. I have a brief moment of déjàvu. It feels like home.

"That feeling you're having, I put that here," she says. "All the ARCs have a simulated marketplace just like the one on Level Four."

"Why the marketplace? Why not the pods? Wouldn't that feel more like home?"

"What feels more comfortable than commerce?" She folds her hands behind her back. "It took me four years to finally come up with a design that could fit all the ships."

We wander into another room where hidden windows line the top of the walls. I can see right into the marketplace from here. I lean on the panel below me.

"Careful! These are the controls that manipulate the marketplace's environment. I built it myself," she says without a trace of humility or pride. It's purely factual. She created this entire panel with thousands of buttons, and I'm too afraid to ask her to break it down for me. I'll figure it out eventually. I need to use my hands. I need to touch the ship if I want to get to know her. After today, I believe that we've finally begun to start some kind of functional relationship.

At least I think we might understand each other better. I can never tell with ARC10.

"So are we able to proceed with everyone else?" I ask as we leave the ship.

She nods. "We've been granted permission. A huge success in my work with the Xani. Embarkation orders will be sent to you this week."

This tension, this horrible ribbon of distrust I've been holding in my gut while around Hayomo finally releases. It snaps like it was strung too tight.

I allow myself to wallow in the calm. I trust Hayomo. She's done as much as she could for me through my time with the HHP. While some of our encounters were morally dubious, I still like the idea that she's being tough on me because she knows I can handle it. Someone still believes in me. She might not show it often, but I think she's on my side.

"General."

She pauses and faces me.

"Thank you. I needed this."

She doesn't smile, but she doesn't frown. She continues on her path down the ramp.

When we pass Moyra, I don't bother wasting my energy on hypotheticals. The Moyra I knew is gone. This new rigid one who stole her place means nothing to me.

I know that when I close my eyes tonight, my Moyra will be there. It was common to see her at night. Thought my childhood, my teen years, my early adulthood, she was there.

The memories of Moyra come and go a lot like my dreams. When they surface, these memories blur the line between what I know to be real and what I'm desperate to forget. Moving like an undercurrent below this line is a dark and twisted place where my brain short-circuits. I have little choice but to relive these experiences over and over again.

As we commence our return journey, the memory that surfaces is the specific day Moyra told me she was joining the militia. She wanted to show me how much I meant to her.

I remember she scurried in sobbing, her eyes overflowing with tears that were so large, I thought she was going to drown in them. She was only seventeen.

"What's wrong?" I jumped out of my cot when I saw her stumble toward me.

"They're going to kill me. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead."

My heart stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"I did something really bad."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Something really dumb."

"Tell me," I questioned again, sitting and patting the empty space on the cot next to me. "Because if you know you're actually going to die, I'd like to be able to salvage your stuff first before the rats take it. I've had my eye on your brown jacket for a while now."

"Not funny, Nika." Her head hung low. "Seriously. If anyone finds out what I did, I'm going to get murdered." She sat down next to me and stared at her knees.

"I'm waiting." Out of habit, I took one of her thick braids and twisted it around my finger.

"It's so freaking stupid."

"I said I'll help. Just tell me what happened so we can fix it."

Shaking, she inhaled, exhaled, and spoke so fast, I had to repeat it a few times in my head before understanding what she was saying. "I stole one of the jeeps from Level One with Ricky, and we drove it around Topside, and when we saw one of the Invader beams, we got scared, jumped out, and ran back here, leaving it running outside under a tree."

My hand stiffened around her braid. "You did what?"