Terra (16 page)

Even though that’s what got me into this mess,
I think.

“I hate to break it to you, my oh-so-frugal sister, but if you think we’re going to be allowed to participate, you’re nuts.”

“Why’s that? What’s the Rationing?” asks Adam.

“Oh, to live a skyboy’s life,” I say with a sigh.

Mica shoots a silencing look at me. “The Rationing happens after the monthly delivery of foodstuffs from up top comes,” he patiently explains to Adam. “After all the good stuff goes to the shopkeepers, we get to fight between the leftovers. I mean, we still have to pay but it’s like, what’s the word for it…”

“Wholesale,” I finish for him.

“Right. Wholesale. Most people in the North and East Quadrants don’t even bother with the Rationing, it’s such a madhouse. They have enough credits to buy their food direct from the shops.”

“I see,” says Adam. “So the other people from around here, knowing about your payout…”

“Yeah. They’re not going to be okay with us trying to get in on the Rationing,” I say. “Mica’s right.”

“As usual,” Mica mutters.

“All right, little bro, you win. Here, Adam,” I pull the filter rings off my finger and toss them to him, “get one of these on the kitchen faucet. Mica, tuck in your shirt. Looks like the two of us are going grocery shopping.”

“He should come too,” Mica says, hastily shoving the tails of his shirt under his waistband as Adam fiddles with the filter at the sink.

“We just went over this,” I say, annoyed, as I head back into my room to grab my boots. “Why is the concept of laying low so difficult for you to understand?” I shout into the main room.

“When was the last time you went grocery shopping for real, Terra?” Mica shouts back. “How are you even going to know what’s what? I bet Adam does it all the time, he could help us.”

Adam chuckles as I reenter the room, “I’ve been sent out on research assignments so long, I barely remember the taste of anything that doesn’t come in bar form.”

“I think I can handle it, Mic,” I say, rolling my eyes and lacing up my boots. “You’re just afraid I won’t let you get anything good unless he’s there so you can gang up on me.” I attempt to flatten my hair a bit, but the immediate reminder of my day-old head injury helps me decide I look presentable enough.

“I mean, okay, yeah. But you can’t just expect him to sit here and wait patiently. It’ll be way more suspicious if the guards come back to follow up with you and they find a skyboy hanging out, digging through our stuff.”

My head is suddenly filled with an image of Adam pulling open my dresser drawer and finding the machine. He doesn’t necessarily seem like the snooping type, but who knows what kind of samples he intends to collect while he’s here. We may be in the same decontamination boat, but that probably won’t stop him from poking around.

“I should actually try to go out and collect some data,” Adam interjects. “Yesterday caused a bit of a setback.” He smirks at me.

Mica makes a disappointed noise and I sigh a little too loudly.

“Just, uh, try to lay low, remember?” I tell Adam. “I don’t know how easy it’ll be to convince people you’re our long lost cousin, twice removed or whatever. Come on, Mica. Let’s go.”

* * *

Mica’s whining aside, the walk to the North Quadrant shops is surprisingly pleasant. I’m not confronted by a single heckler or mooch, and once we cross out of the West Quadrant, the dirty looks I’ve come to expect are replaced with ones of total indifference. Either they don’t know about our recent fortune up here, or they simply don’t care.

We walk more carefully once we’re in the North Q to avoid the occasional transport that rumbles down the road. It occurs to me that I haven’t even shown Mica the motorbike yet. That should win me a few sibling points.

Once we reach the shopping district, we spend a little time window-shopping; I can’t keep myself from ogling the watches in the front display of a jewelry store. For refurbished skycity hand-me-downs, they look pretty damn good. My eyes linger on a delicate-looking piece with a round face. The band of silver links reminds me instantly of the watch our mother used to wear. I pull myself away to show Mica the resemblance—he was too young to remember her, but he should still appreciate the sentiment—only to find he’s wandered across the street and is talking to a pair of people. One of them I recognize as Hess Underwood, but the other has his back to me.

I sigh and go to retrieve my brother, approaching the conversing trio in a huff. My footsteps falter on the gravelly road as I get a clearer view of the set of the third person’s shoulders, the blond hair peeking out from beneath a brimmed cap.

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Adam,” Hess says fondly, her words becoming audible as I approach.

“And you, as well,” he replies. “Thank you for your help. I know it was a lot of questions.”

“No, thank you for taking the time to listen,” she says. “Do feel free to stop by while you’re still in town. Loran’s not in much shape to move around, but his memories have been getting clearer every day. I’m sure soon he’ll be able to tell you much more about his accident. And I know we’d both welcome the company.” She smiles warmly at Mica, nods in my direction, and then leaves.

“Look who I found, sis!” Mica says happily.

“Hi there,” Adam says.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I whisper harshly to Adam.

“What’s the problem?” Adam says defensively. “I’m laying low—look, I wore a hat.” He flicks the brim with his fingers.

“Oh, pardon me, what was I thinking? Of course,
you wore a hat
. Now you fit right in!”

“Calm down, Terra,” Mica says. “It’s not a big deal.”

“How did you even get here so fast?” I say bitterly. “Or know where to go? And what were you talking to Hess Underwood about?”

“All questions, all the time,” Adam says with a laugh, shaking his head. I scowl.

“Well, he’s here now,” Mica says. “Can we get some food already? I’m starving.”

“You two carry on with your shopping trip, I’m fine on my own,” Adam says.

I glance around—several people passing by are already stopping to gawk at our unusual trio.

“If
someone
hadn’t felt the need to come running over as soon as he saw you,” I say, glaring at Mica, “then I’d be inclined to agree. Given that we’re already causing a bit of a spectacle out here, you’d better just come with us.”

“But—,” Adam starts to protest, but Mica interrupts him.

“Yeah, come with us!”

Adam furrows his brow for a second. “All right, lead the way then.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” I march into a red-doored storefront; a sign above the door says “Grocer” in big, welcoming letters. Adam and Mica follow me robotically as I push open the door and enter the shop.

“Oh!” A pretty young woman, maybe in her early twenties, looks up in surprise from the counter at the back of the store. She stares at us for a few moments of awkward silence. I instinctively look down at my shirt, wondering if the outfit I ended up in is not as appropriate as I’d hoped. I’m dressed in dark pants and, luckily, the only clean tank I have left, my hair loose down my back. Mica is in gray shorts and a polo shirt; the outfit was probably just his way of showing off in front of Adam this morning, but I’m glad for it nonetheless. If we’re going to be in the North Q, it’s a bonus for us to look presentable; especially since yesterday hasn’t left me in the best-looking shape. The cut of my tank does little to hide my still-raw injuries and, as it’s started to heal, the bruise on the side of my head has crept down past my hairline. The side of my forehead is lined with a ring of purple. I self-consciously flatten my hair down over it.

It doesn’t take long for me to realize, however, that the attendant isn’t looking at me at all. I suddenly feel like it wouldn’t matter if I was standing here buck-naked; the only person she seems to see is Adam.

“Er, hello,” I venture. “We’re here to purchase some groceries?”

“What?” the shopkeeper says, darting her eyes over to me. “Oh. Of course. Feel free to take a look around.” She returns her gaze to Adam. “And please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

“Will do,” Adam says, winking at her. I roll my eyes before glancing around the store. It’s a decent size, with six long aisles running across it.

“Don’t go too crazy,” I tell Mica. I grab a basket from a stack near the door and hand one to him. He takes it without looking at me, his gaze already fixed greedily on the aisles in front of us.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, his eyes gleaming as he takes off down an aisle. I’m going to need to double-check his choices before we leave.

“Shall we?” Adam says. He bends his arm at the elbow and offers it to me, a ridiculously formal gesture. The attendant scowls noticeably.

“Um… thanks,” I say awkwardly, looping my wrist through his arm and pulling him quickly over to the shelves. So much for not drawing attention to ourselves. Evidently skyboys are too cocky to turn down any female attention.

We walk down an aisle marked “Consumables.” I scan the shelves for familiar-looking cans, but I don’t recognize anything. There are a few rows of canned goods, but nothing so methodically-labeled as the D-B334 I’m used to seeing. Instead, the cans are color-coordinated and boast labels like “Beef” and “Chicken”—complete with quotation marks. Real meat isn’t available to the public down here, even in the North Q; it’s much more cost effective for the Tribunal to create synthetic versions than to keep livestock. Even the pets that skydwellers dote upon are genetically engineered. I’ve never seen one in person, of course, but every year they show a “Best Pet” competition on TV. I hate to admit it’s one program I kind of enjoy.

Further down the aisle we pass boxes of crackers, packages of noodles, and shiny, foil-wrapped candy bars. I haven’t seen this kind of stuff since I was a little kid. I pick up a box of crackers and check the price tag on the bottom.

“Ten credits for this?” That’d buy a dozen cans of slop at the Rationing. “What a joke.”

“Huh?” Adam says, examining a jar of dark blue jelly.

“It’s just… all of this. People who can afford to live like this every day. It’s crazy.” I don’t really care if my statement offends him; I’m sure he’s used to all of this and more where he’s from. “Being here, being able to do this… it feels like I’ll never be able to go back to how things were.”

“Mica told me about what it’s like, being a scav. Out there, every day, for hours on end, basically picking up trash. Why would you ever want to go back to that? It sounds like you’ve been dealt a much better hand than you had before. Seems to me like you’ve earned a break.”

I bite my lip. The thing is, I don’t feel like I’ve earned anything. Finding the machine, Adam saving me… it’s all just been dumb luck. And I can’t let my luck run out before Mica gets to benefit from it.

“Stop trying to convince yourself that you don’t deserve better, Terra.” He squeezes my shoulder in a way I’m sure he thinks is comforting, then seems to think better of it and quickly retracts his hand, moving further down the aisle.

“I guess,” I say noncommittally, tossing the box of crackers into the basket and surveying the rest of the shelves. “Don’t tell him I said this, but Mica was right. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be getting here. A little help? I might even let you eat some of it if you give me a hand.”

Adam glances around the aisle. “Uh, sure,” he says, somewhat reluctantly. His expression brightens a second later. “I never pass up an offer for a free meal.”

I follow him down aisle after aisle, trying to pay attention to the items he tosses into my waiting basket, but I can’t get his words out of my head. Before I know it, the basket is full, and I’m not even sure how Adam decided what to pull from the shelves.

We meet back up with Mica in an aisle marked “Libations.”

“Nice try, buddy,” I say as I walk up behind him. He has a huge bottle of crystal clear alcohol in his hands. I check the tag on it: 43 credits.

“I was just looking,” he says defensively as he places it back on the shelf. I glance into his basket—only a dozen small items are inside. Seeing his practiced restraint warms my heart; I guess he does listen to me sometimes.

“Maybe when you’re older,” I joke, tossing my arm around Mica’s shoulders. As we approach the still-gawking attendant at the register, Adam chivalrously takes both baskets from Mica and me.

“Did you find everything okay?” the attendant asks him eagerly.

“Absolutely,” Adam says, flirtatiously drawing out the vowels of the word. I roll my eyes and let out an involuntary snort. The attendant’s bottom lip juts out in a pout as she scans our items.

“90 credits even,” she says in a flat voice as she bags the last item.

I have to suppress a laugh as I hold my palm out for her to scan. We’re leaving with less than two weeks’ worth of food and it cost more than a month of Rations.

Mica immediately digs through a bag and pulls out a candy bar. He rips open the packaging and races out the door after Adam, who’s already carrying the rest of the groceries. I loop the remaining bag over my arm and follow them out of the store.

Chapter 14

“What! Are you kidding me?” Mica exclaims as I point out the motorbike parked against the side of the building.

“Kinda neat, huh?” I say.

“Kinda? Understatement of the century. This is awesome!”

I look at Adam and a smile breaks out across my face. Add this to the list of things I owe him for.

“I’ll go put this stuff inside,” Adam says, adding the bag I’ve been carrying to his load.

“Hang on a sec,” I say. “I’ll come help you.” Any time spent alone in the apartment is time he could use to find the machine.

“You should be here to enjoy this,” he says. He nods his chin at Mica, who is already straddling the bike and fiddling with something on the dashboard. Mica turns a knob and I hear a series of empty clicks.

“More like to act as a witness in case something goes wrong,” I mutter. I hesitantly hand Adam the apartment key and he disappears inside.

“So how does this work?” Mica asks.