Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Lyric doesn’t look like a star anymore. She looks like a frightened woman on the verge of tears. I would comfort her more, but her shift in demeanor is possibly the greatest disguise we could have come up with. The cocky, bratty performer has been banished entirely.
“We’ll be delivering some stock to Earth in about three standard lunar rotations,” he says.
“How long’s that?” Lyric whispers the question.
“About three months. We’ll be working our passage until then, if that’s alright with you, sir…”
“Foreman Phish,” he says. “Fine by me. We do ten-hour shifts rotating, two days off out of every seven. There’s a worker tavern on deck seven, and you’ll be assigned a cabin if there’s one free.”
“Ten-hour rotating shifts and two days off a week!” Lyric tugs at my overalls. “That’s an incredible deal!”
Compared to the endless grind of performances, I suppose it is.
“Alright,” Phish says. “Work now, relax later. You can start with these boxes. We’re moving them down to the loading dock.”
Iam impressed by how quickly Lyric gets to work, and how she keeps up with me. She is just a little human woman, and most of the time I have known her, her primary job has involved prancing about on stage. I know that performing takes a lot of energy, but for some reason I assumed she would be less willing or able a worker.
After a rough night in the woods, and almost endless trauma in the form of violent attacks and media harassment, Lyric throws herself into the simple work of lifting and moving boxes like she was made for it. All semblance of prima donna starlet is abandoned completely.
We work until the shift ends. It is a good three hours of labor, and Lyric does not falter. At the end, Phish, impressed, gives us both a card loaded with worker credits. This isn’t cash per se. We couldn’t spend it anywhere other than this freighter, but considering the freighter is the size of a large city, it’s all we will need.
“Your bunk assignments,” he says. “There’s a spare double cabin, so you’re in luck. I suggest hitting the bar. There’s a decent stew on tonight, and the beer is good.”
Lyric and I hit the bar as suggested. We want to fit in, and we both need food and drink. The bar is packed with people and aliens from all over. There are even some species I haven’t seen before. I was concerned someone would clock Lyric immediately, but as far as I can tell, we remain anonymous and irrelevant.
Lyric fits right in. There are quite a few humans aboard. I put it down to humans being difficult at the best of times. The species creates black sheep, wayward souls, and misfits at an astounding rate. Nobody gives us a second look as we move through the crowd. This is a group of people who do not invite attention, and they are kind enough to not give it, either.
We pick a free table and sit down with a bowl of meat stew and bread, and a pitcher of ale between us.
“I’m impressed,” I tell her.
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“You worked very well today and given how much chaos there was at each and every concert of yours, I thought you’d make a scene here.”
“It’s my job to make a scene when I perform,” she points out. “Besides, I’m not stupid. I want to live. Besides, I like manual labor. I’m used to it, and it’s easy.”
“You surprise me,” I smile.
“Yeah, well, the universe is a surprising place,” she tries to smile back, but I can tell she is tired and she needs her rest. Once we eat we will go find the cabin assigned to us and get some sleep. I am more dedicated than ever to this human woman who I once mistook for yet another spoiled brat. She’s a survivor, and I know we are going to get through this together.
12
Lyric
Days turn into weeks, and I find that I like working on the freighter. This is the happiest I’ve been since this all began. We get paid very little, because we’re working for room and board, but we get paid enough to buy things at the ship’s commissary and to get things occasionally from the ship’s bar. I bought some bleach, and my hair is blonde now. I don’t wear makeup anymore, and that means I’m essentially unrecognizable. I’m just another human woman running from her past. That makes me the same as every other person here.
Zayne and I share a little cabin. It’s about the size of a prison cell, but it is more than enough for us. We are happy. It’s a simple kind of happiness, one you get when you abandon everything aspirational and instead just focus on what you have.
I never deserved to be rich or famous, that’s the truth. I was used as a sort of archetype, something to get people to fall for the idea of. I was set up to fall from the very beginning. It all seems so clear now that Simon’s plan has been fully executed. It’s so simple I wonder why I didn’t see it from the beginning.