Skye City: The Darkness of Emmilyn

Last Throw of the Dice

Hours pass and I just lie on the lower bunk, ignoring everyone's efforts to speak to me because they have nothing helpful to say. Eventually the lights blink out and most of the thirty-something bunks are filled with sleeping bodies, but I remain wide awake. The night seems horrible, agonising, endless... I feel like I too have died and I almost wish I did.

Gradually I see the bodies around me rise and yet for my brother, this very same act would be impossible. Why are they leaving me inside this limbo and prolonging the inevitable? Why can I not say goodbye to Arturo now?

Sleepy rebels enter the showers and return in clean outfits, dumping their laundry into the basket and leaving the sleeping quarters. The lad who first spoke to me yesterday, the one with the crooked nose, comes over to my bunk with a warm smile. Suddenly his ruggedness vanishes and he appears sweet, gentle, but his smile is a meaningless gesture.

'Hey, Emmi, I would ask how you're feeling, but... Why don't we get some breakfast while we wait for good news?'

Smig is snoring in the next bunk, I am still wearing the white gown with sticky red marks, and the clothes Turbo gave me are still piled on the floor. I get to my bare feet and we walk through the cold corridor which no longer contains the bloody footprints. We reach a canteen with a service droid wearing a pink pinnie and this would be amusing under any other circumstances.

The lad queues with a tray at the service area and I sit at a table in the corner, staring at the bare white wall. The lad returns with two plates of food – toast and stuff – but I am not interested, even though hot food is a luxury for a skinny bottom-leveller.

The lad shoves food into his gob in that messy way lads do, and then he slurps from a cup before he has even swallowed. He coughs as something goes down the wrong way and half a smile creeps onto my face.

'Hey, you actually look pretty when you smile. Er, prettier,' he whispers and I immediately remove the half-smile from my lips. He seriously cannot be flirting with me, right now. 'I don't think I've introduced myself. I'm Nelson.'

'Nice to meet you,' I say, half-heartedly as I play with my nose piercing.

'Hopefully, we should get an update soon. Ya know, a proper one. I hear Jardine and a few others are on the way to help. Given the expense they've gone to for Arturo, they're not gonna give up now,' Nelson says.

'Expense?' I lift my gaze from my plate to make eye contact.

'Ya know? When they rescued him and Anguson from the workcamp, they took a huge risk, but everyone insists your brother was worth it. Jardine says he has leadership potential,' Nelson says.

'If you want to be led by a reckless idiot who gets himself jailed and shot... Actually that's not entirely fair – the Rebellion got him jailed and shot. Arturo was just dumb enough to comply with orders. He must fit in well here,' I say.

'At least we take care of our own,' Nelson says with a shrug, almost offended.

'Yeah, they clearly don't. They fled like cowards. Didn't even wait to see if their own had survived. They just shot my brother and raced away,' I say.

'It's their bodysuits, I've heard they register vital signs. When a guard dies, the others are notified, stops them taking unnecessary risks. It's an efficient system,' Nelson says.

'Efficient? One squat full of kids was too much for them,' I say.

'Well the STG, and even the EG, are cannon fodder. Often their bodies aren't even collected. One guard dies, they train another slumdog to take their place, act like the previous one never existed. Death is shameful to them. All they're interested in is power. Makes 'em feel big and strong, turning against their own. Damn cowards,' Nelson says.