Burn Bright

The Riper came for her at dawn. She’d been drowsing, unable to really sleep for the chill, and he’d jerked her from awake with shrill words.

‘Come below. Now.’

Cal had been admiring of him earlier, but Retra couldn’t see anything appealing in the empty eyes, and the lifeless-cold hands that pulled her to her feet. She noticed a tear in his leather coat and, underneath, a glimpse of something not quite flesh.

It started her trembling again. She snatched her arm back and stabbed her nails into her palms to calm her fear.

‘We pass through the edge of the Spiral soon,’ he said. ‘It won’t be safe atop.’

Retra followed him along the deck through the pink fingers of early light that reached as far as the narrow steel steps. As she descended into the cabin, she saw streaks of dark blood smeared the wall, as if someone had missed them while cleaning it in haste.

At the bottom, though, warmth and the buzz of conversation enveloped her. The cabin was brightly lit and crowded with nervous, blinking, talkative Grave runaways. For a moment their anticipation lifted her heavy mood.

She found herself searching for Markes. He leaned against the bulkhead, Cal hanging at his arm, their earlier differences already forgotten.

Retra moved to the opposite side of the cabin, away from them, but Markes caught her eyes and smiled.

Then a Riper began pounding on a drum. Other Ripers descended the steps and spread among the crowd. The tallest ones stooped by the low ceiling, all wearing the same blank stares.

‘Sit, all of you,’ said one of them. ‘The Spiral is not a thing to stand through. You will be perfectly safe from hyper-reaction as long as you stay seated.’

The cabin crowd dropped to the floor in one mass, laughing and falling on each other. Retra squeezed herself into a small space against one wall, trying not to touch the people around her. She wasn’t used to crowds; the smell of their bodies made her feel sick.

‘What’s hyper-reaction?’ she heard someone ask.

‘It happens when you cross the Spiral. Some get blissed out or real down. But it lasts … like forever,’ answered the girl on one side of her. ‘Some even get it afterwards.’

The Riper started speaking again. ‘Once through the Spiral, you’ll leave the barge and pass into the Register. There you’ll be fitted with your badge. After that your life – your pleasure – is your own. Burn bright!’ The Riper’s eyes glittered with strange comprehensions.

‘Burn bright!’ the crowd shouted in enthusiastic response.

Retra glanced to the small, high windows, seeking the sunrise. How long until she saw it again? She suddenly felt thirsty for daylight.

But the hum came.

The cabin lights snuffed out and the barge rocked, gently at first, then wildly – jarring her spine, throwing a boy onto her lap. His red curls brushed against her throat and he cheekily burrowed his freckled face between her breasts. With the roll of the barge he fell backwards again before she could react.

She hugged her knees for protection as the air got thick and heavy and the dawn turned abruptly back to dark. The crowd’s eagerness shifted to something fearful.

‘What’s happening?’ shouted one.

Another. ‘We’re sinking!’

‘Fross!’

Huddled in the pitch-black, fear-stink of the cabin, the cries unnerved her. She shut her eyes. Joel. She chanted to herself. Joel. Saying his name made her feel safer.

Heaviness came next, as if gravity had altered. Breathing got hard. The fear-shouts dwindled.

Then the pain from her obedience strip returned, worse than before. An obscene, tearing hurt that burned from her thigh up to her vertebrae and into her chest. She curled into a ball, biting her tongue to stop from screaming, gouging the flesh of her upper arms with her nails.

Her mind became all; a giant slug filled with ugly, crawling creatures and bad places. And … noise … music, she guessed … but not like anything she had ever heard before.

She pressed her hands to her ears to shut out the raw, thick pulse of it. It stripped her mind of everything and lodged in her belly, churning and quivering. It made her want the boy to put his face back between her breasts. She pressed her nipples to stem the sensation. She couldn’t bear the wildness of her thoughts.

Then, abruptly, the pain dulled and the music quieted. The barge steadied to a gentle roll and the cabin lit. Retra’s eyes flew open, released from the transition. The Riper stood, poised amongst the scatter of bodies, his pale face raised in ecstasy.

‘Welcome to Ixion.’