Patchwork by Elle E. Ire

Author:Elle E. Ire [Ire, Elle E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction
ISBN: 978-1-64405-445-1
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2020-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

IN THE morning we awake to the glare of sun around the blackout curtains in our lofted cottage bedroom. I barely remember getting back to our lodgings, I was so tired. VC1 helpfully begins a replay of the process, but I cut her off. Meanwhile, Kelly bounds off the spine-conforming mattress, the latest in sleep technology, skips to the sailboat-decorated window coverings, and yanks them aside, blasting me with blinding natural light.

“Are you serious?” I say, pulling the blanket over my head. She’s laughing, but she doesn’t know I just kicked up my suppressors to stop the impending migraine. I was doing better, but the sunlight and last night’s beer fest would be setting me off again without VC1’s support.

She tugs the blankets away, bundling them into a ball at the foot of the bed, and tosses my cargo shorts and a gray T-shirt at my face. I catch them before impact and growl at her.

“Get dressed. We have twenty minutes to meet the launch to the Mainland.” She’s half in her clothes already, a short-sleeved cantaloupe-colored button-down that ties in the front and reveals her belly button, and denim cutoff shorts I don’t recognize.

“Where’d you get those?” I ask, giving in to the inevitable and swinging my legs off the bed.

“Rachelle lent them to me. We always shared clothing in the Academy.”

Like sisters.

Somewhere along the twists and turns of my life, I must have had good friends. I wish I could remember any of them right now.

I half expect Kelly to come over and offer comfort for my mood, but the suppressors are working and she doesn’t notice. VC1 must have recovered from yesterday’s ordeal.

A thumbs-up icon appears in my internal view, confirming my thoughts.

Funny. When Kelly’s smothering me with concern, I want it to stop. When she can’t read me, I miss her extra affection. Get a grip, Corren.

Since I showered last night, there isn’t much prep work to get ready. Leaving my laser pistol behind hurts, but it’s too hot for a jacket, and I’d have nothing to hide it under, which would totally freak out Kelly’s friends and family. I do stow a knife in my right boot, careful to tuck the handle all the way down. Then I grab a few other items that might come in handy, and we make it to the pier just as everyone else is arriving. About twenty guests, most carrying colorful reusable shopping bags slung over their shoulders, are boarding the transport that could carry approximately fifty people.

A resort staff member ushers us aboard the double-decker craft, most passengers making for the upper deck while I tug Kelly into a bottom-level seat. She pouts but complies. Rachelle joins us. Lily and Tonya opt for upstairs. A second employee casts us off while a third takes the wheel and starts up the solar-powered engine.

Within minutes we’re in deep water, passing the barrier the resort uses to keep out the carnivorous sea life, designated by bright orange buoys floating on the surface at widely spaced intervals.

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