I need to tell Luca the bad news: Dev is dead. Harding-Pencroft is gone.
My vocal cords refuse to make a sound.
I’m saved from answering when Ophelia returns from the sickbay. She marches over to us with Ester, Top and Rhys Morrow at her heels. Ester’s face is puffy and red from crying. Rhys plays counsellor, whispering to her in a reassuring tone.
‘Pancreatic cancer,’ Ophelia tells me. Her gaze is as steely as her hair and her glasses. ‘Theodosius was a fool.’
My ribcage tightens. ‘Was?’
‘No, no, he’s still alive. Your friend Franklin is administering one of our experimental treatments right now. I just meant Theodosius should’ve sought medical help months ago. What was he thinking, coming out here in his condition with a crew of freshmen?’
She scowls at me, waiting for answers I don’t have.
Top pads over to the couch. He sniffs Jupiter’s toes. Jupiter just looks down at the dog, pulls a cookie from the pocket of his apron and gives it to Top. Another friendship secured.
‘I …’ My voice falters. I’ve been trying to hold myself together for three days. I can’t break down now, not in front of my whole crew.
Gem gets up from the couch. He and Nelinha both gravitate to me, as if sensing that I need backup.
‘How about we sit and talk?’ Gem suggests to our hosts, gesturing to the dining table. His calm tone reminds me that Sharks are trained to be diplomats as well as soldiers.
‘Good idea,’ Nelinha says. That makes twice this week she has publicly agreed with Gem, which probably means doomsday is nigh. ‘The rest of the crew can secure the Varuna, maybe get themselves cleaned up. Right, Ana?’
I nod, grateful for the help. It’s better than me dissolving into ugly sobbing.
‘You could all use showers,’ Ophelia concedes.
I guess after three days at sea, rationing our fresh water, the twenty of us don’t smell so great.
Ophelia makes a clicking sound at the side of her mouth, like she’s encouraging a horse. Two mechanical dragonflies buzz into the room and hover at her shoulders.
‘The drones will show your crew the facilities,’ she says. ‘They’ll also keep any naughty children from straying into restricted areas and getting themselves killed.’
‘I’ll get the espresso and biscotti.’ Luca’s smile turns fragile, as if he suspects it might break under the weight of our story. ‘I have a feeling we might need a pre-dinner pick-me-up.’
It never gets easier, talking about what happened to Harding-Pencroft.
When I explain how my brother died, I feel like I’m collecting ashes from his funeral pyre, clawing through the hot cinders of his life with my bare hands.
Gem and Nelinha sit on either side of me. Ester, still quietly sniffling, sits on Nelinha’s right. I don’t know if Ester is crying because of Dr Hewett’s condition, or the loss of the school, or the scary new place and new people she is having to deal with. All are solid reasons.
As usual, the other two prefects should be in on this conversation, but they seem content to let Ester and Nelinha be their stand-ins. Franklin remains in the sickbay, tending to Dr Hewett. Tia Romero, bless her, is playing aunt to everybody. She’s herding the rest of the crew around, making sure they don’t get zapped by lasers or mechanical dragonflies as they settle into the base.
When I’m done with my story, Luca and Ophelia give each other a long look. They don’t seem surprised by anything I’ve told them. Their expressions convey grim vindication, as if they’ve been fearing this news for years.
Ophelia adjusts her steel-rimmed glasses. She sets her elbows on the table and laces her fingers, letting her bangles cascade down her forearms. ‘Ana, I’m so sorry. You deserved better from us.’
Her tone surprises me almost as much as her apology. She sounds angry and bitter, which makes me realize how much of those emotions I’ve been holding inside for the past three days. I swallow back the taste of bile. I guess it’s a welcome change from debilitating sorrow.
‘What did I deserve?’ I ask. ‘Maybe the truth?’
Luca frowns into his cup of espresso. ‘Certo. La veritá. Ma non è così semplice, cara mia.’
‘Why not?’ I demand. ‘It seems pretty simple to me. Why did Dev have to keep silent about what he knew? Why did Ester have to live with her secrets?’
Ester blushes.
I realize maybe I should not have put her on the spot like that, which makes me scowl even harder at Ophelia. ‘And do not tell me the school was trying to protect me.’