Episode 5 - The Tide Recedes, and What it Leaves Behind

  Chapter 41 - Potted Plants

  “Uh, make yourself comfortable, I guess,” says Rhett, quickly picking up a few scattered shirts from the ground in the middle of the room and throwing them to the end of his bed.

  His apartment is significantly larger than mine, with a seating area around a small coffee table, a desk by the window with views into the streets below and beyond into the city, and a large bed with crisp white sheets neatly folded. By the window, there are several potted plants on a shelf, each trailing hanging fronds of leaves over the edges of their pots. Several of them have the soil beneath excavated and piled at their bases, white spider webbing coating the walls of tunnels built deep within the plant roots. Pell must make her home in these pots when she isn’t being carried by Rhett.

  On his desk is a small glass case filled with water, more plants growing underwater within, and a light mounted above.

  The water shimmers with tiny movements on its surface, small air bubbles forming on the tips of the submerged plants, and rising to the surface in little bobbing waltzes when they get big enough. I cross the room to look closer, stooping to peer within. One plant is small, growing along the base of the glass tank in a tiny knotwork of leaves. Another is tall, the leaves becoming tipped with more and more red the closer it gets to the light. Pooka follows me, paws silent on the carpeted floors, and puts his chin on the desk to peer at the aquarium as well. His whiskers twitch as he sniffs at the plants.

  “What is it?” I ask curiously, scared to touch.

  Rhett leans one-handed on the desk next to me. “Aquarium. For underwater plants,” he says simply, scratching the back of his neck.

  I look upwards to peer at the other potted plants assembled on the shelf above. “I didn’t really know plants grew underwater,” I say rather dumbly.

  “Some true plants do. Some will only tolerate it,” he replies. “Did you bring it?”

  I nod and unzip my jacket to reveal the plastic box I have tucked against my belly. The control module is surprisingly simple, only slightly modified from those used by the black market intercoms that I’d been experimenting with in the workshop. The major modification is splicing my stolen city-monitor in to better mimic that technology. It’s all mounted in some plastic casing used for alarm modules that I also procured from Junk’s lab when no one was looking. I welded any gaps in the plastic casing shut under a fume hood in the workshop to make the whole module watertight, in the event the only place I found to install it was outside. The fact it looks like an alarm I’m mostly hoping will help camouflage the device. The cables to connect it to the other components hang from one corner, hard-wired in now.

  “That’s it?” he asks, taking it from my hands confidently. Pell is already walking curiously down his arm to come touch it.

  “There’s more, that’s the control module. Didn’t think I could sneak the rest through the hallways.”

  “Will you be able to get it to the Cooperative City?”

  “It comes apart. I can tuck it in my luggage. I just didn’t want to lug it up the elevator and risk running into anyone in the halls.”

  His face is pensive as Pell makes contact and begins to glow a faint teal. Whatever passes between them, he is silent with concentration as it does. Finally, he clears his throat, appraisal complete.

  “How are you sending the signal?”

  “Hiding them in the inter-dome radio comms. I’m hoping to sneak it onto a radio antenna and slip it between the other outgoing frequencies. Only way I can send something far enough.”

  “You don’t think anyone will hear it?”

  “Only one message here and there? No. Maybe? I just want a copy of any comms from a few IDs, so it won’t be sending constantly. I assume Pell can encrypt it, can she also work on my receiver then to program the decode?”

  “Hmm,” considers Rhett, pausing as if he is discussing matters with Pell again. Pooka amuses himself by sniffing the pot plants while we wait. “It’ll need a power source as well?”

  “Yeah, installation might be complicated,” I concede. With a sigh, I push back from the desk. “I gotta try at least…”

  “You’ll need intranet access-”

  “Yeah, I know. I already said it would be complicated.”

  Rhett turns and puts it down on his desk, leaving Pell to wrap her legs around it and work her magic. He clasps both hands in front of himself, then gestures to the seating area. “She’ll need a few hours with it. You can sit, while you wait?”

  I look at him, his eyes are lowered to look at his hands, then I take his offer and pick one of the couches, tucking my legs up and sideways as I sit. He lifts his head and watches me coolly, cobalt blue eyes calculating.

  “Nice apartment,” I comment, just to fill the space.

  “Hmm, oh yeah. It’s what being the son of the owners gets you, I guess.”

  “I can’t crane my neck around to look at you over there, come sit if I’m gonna stay.”

  He pauses, then braces against the desk and pushes himself forward, taking a few slow steps, then sits across from me, crossing his ankle over his other leg. Under long pants I can’t see the bruising on his thigh any longer, but he still has that bandage on his face. His stubble is longer, like he’s given up shaving while it heals.

  “You don’t have many guests in here?” I comment.

  “Uh no, not really. Plenty of common spaces on the lower floors.”

  “No girlfriend?” I cheekily probe.

  His eyes immediately focus on me, the muscle on the edge of his jaw twitching as my playful tone catches his interest. He leans on the arm of his chair, covering his mouth with curled fingers. “Not at the moment, no.”

  “Nessa sneaks her partners in,” I comment slyly, curiously watching his reaction.

  “Hmm?”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  “Is that what you do? Bet a private apartment is half the sell?”

  “I’m sure it helps. I don’t bring them here. That’s a security risk, you know.”

  I cover my mouth with one hand, realizing my mistake. “Uh, you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “How often is she doing that?” continues Rhett, managerial mischief in the corner of his eyes.

  “I dunno. Did I say Nessa...? I meant Blake.”

  “Uh huh. I think you’ve misjudged Blake if you think I’ll believe he’s bringing anyone back to his room unnoticed.” He scratches his chin. "Nessa I'll believe though."

  “I told her it was a security risk too if that helps.”

  Rhett sniffs with amusement, but lets the topic drop. I let the silence grow for a moment, a dim teal light from Pell’s work fills the room, as well as flashing white and red from the city beyond the window.

  “What about you?” he finally asks.

  “What about what?”

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  I tuck my ankles a little closer to my butt, sniffing slightly. “Not anymore. Probably.”

  “Ah, at Murasaki?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I sigh. “Don’t be. It was kind of mank. We fought just as much as we got along with each other.”

  Surprisingly, the corners of his mouth turn upwards behind his hands. “Yeah, I bet with you?”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I bite back testily.

  “My point exactly. Do you… miss him?”

  “I miss everyone,” I say honestly, beginning to fidget with the laces on my boots just to give my hands something to do. “It was home, even if I hated it for so many years. It feels harder and harder to remember why though, the further I get from it. Like my memory is playing some trick on me, making it seem both better and worse than it was in hindsight. Apex is nice, and I’ve seen so many shitty situations now. I know it wasn’t that bad, but everything is just kind of… fucked? It's hard to imagine something better.”

  “Would you get back with him? If you got him out?”

  I pause, twisting the laces between my fingers, thinking, “Nah. I’ve changed too much. One of the last fights we had, he said, ‘I’d change after manifestation.’ I couldn’t fucking stand to look at him knowing he was right about that.”

  Rhett chuckles, his fingers curling in front of his mouth to hide his smile.

  “Plus, he started greasing his hair back like the security folks do. It looked terrible. Never told him,” I continue, getting another chuckle. My mind catches on Rhett’s words though, curious to hear what he knows. “If I got him out? Is it possible?”

  Rhett frowns, lifting his chin from his hand and glancing out the window. “Not easily.”

  “You know how then?” I press.

  “Yes.”

  “You used to do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You gonna tell me or not?”

  There is no Vespa on his ear tonight. It’s his private hours in his own bedroom, Adrian surely wouldn’t step over that line.

  He rotates his jaw, chewing on his thoughts for a moment, then spreads his hands as he seems to make a decision.

  “The hardest part is finding them somewhere new to go. That wasn’t my job. I did the extraction and transportation of goods. We can clone IDs, or fake new ones. Break in and get them out just the same as we do at Aquila sometimes. Depending on security at the station, sometimes we can just slip them on a train. Others… we ran between the domes.”

  I almost gasp with excitement and anticipation. “How?”

  “Mobile habitats, symbionts can pull them.”

  “I thought humans couldn’t breathe the air out there?”

  “They can’t. Symbionts don’t need food or water, and they don’t need air either. They’re fine. You saw the ships at Catakalan, right? They swim between coastal domes just fine.”

  I have never walked within the sickness of the mother. Pooka’s ears are perked in our direction, keenly listening. It has been a long time since I last lived a life before the domes.

  “What does it look like?” I ask Rhett, genuinely curious.

  He sits forward, also keen to share. His hands are animated suddenly. “The way Dad’s crew works is in convoys. We have a few wheeled habitats, and the larger symbionts on the team pull them, like cars and trains. A few others act as outriders in hazmat suits, riding ahead to scout. We have maps, or we follow the train infrastructure between domes. Some of the other crews have flying symbionts that can carry a gondola through the air; they don’t even travel on the ground. The black market crews and scavengers all control secondary dome locks for getting in and out of most major domes. It’s not as fast as a train, but we could move people and goods between cities in only a few days.”

  “What’s it like?” I ask wistfully.

  Rhett grins, genuine enthusiasm relaxing his features, the mask of indifference dropping with a sudden bloom of joy across his features. “It’s hot in the sun, and cold when it snows. You can feel the wind snapping at your hazmat suit. There’s a crispness to the light that gets dulled under the domes, and sometimes the fog passes and there are just blue skies as far as you can see,” he seems to catch himself, hiding some of the boyish enthusiasm with a business-like cough. “It’s hard work too, and tight quarters in the habitats. Following orders is even more important in small crews, making sure we make the best use of supplies and keep the convoy traveling safely.”

  I nod along, trying not to take the final comments as the personal reprimand he seems to be making them. “It’d be good to see one day. For myself.”

  He looks at his hands. "It's dangerous too. There are things in the fog. The scouts make sure to keep the habitats far from any movement, we'd rarely stop if we could avoid it. The trains move quick for a reason."

  Pooka leans against the couch at my side, and I lower one hand to pat his forehead, flapping his huge ears back and forth with my fingers. His muzzle wrinkles, but he doesn’t pull away from the movement. Rhett watches the motion apprehensively, a cautious firm set returning to his jaw, and he sits a little straighter in his chair.

  “I didn’t know Pooka was here.”

  “It’s fine,” I reply, brushing back Pooka’s black mane while Pooka turns to look at him, twitching his whiskers in thought. “He’s not dangerous.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Show him,” I suggest, giving Pooka a final teasing shake, sending both of his ears flopping from side to side over his head. He growls slightly at my request, then stands to walk back over to the potted plants. “Or not.”

  Rhett narrows his eyes as he watches our exchange, a familiar assessment returning to his mask. He must live his life on edge, a constant analysis of everything around him.

  “Maybe you will go beyond the domes one day,” replies Rhett coolly, returning to the subject. “I might have some maps on my tablet?”

  I wouldn’t be capable of hiding my enthusiasm even if I wanted to. He grins slightly at my reaction and stands up to collect his tablet at his desk. His pause and sudden breath catches my attention, and I look over my shoulder at what caught his eye. His fingers stretch, and I follow the line his hands make as they reach towards the lush green leaves of his many plants.

  On the windowsill, and in all the pots on his desk, every single plant has bloomed.

  Scribblehub version (direct link to the bonus chapter and feel free to leave the fic as a whole some love over there, ratings etc). This particular chapter is non-canon, NSFW, very spicy pepper. RR will never miss any plot, so don't worry if that thing isn't for you! Feel free to stay here for your regular programming.