The Creative Fire: 1 (Ruby's Song) by Brenda Cooper

made better still.
    She took a long and much slower sip.
    She sang the next song even louder, feeling the still in her blood. The singer in the speakers, Kiya Kiya Too, had a tinny voice that Ruby wanted to drown out.
    Three little girls who had been singing and holding hands stopped and watched her, their eyes big and their mouths open but silent. Their mothers stopped, then two women next to them, then the tenor behind her, whose voice she had been using as a harmony. Seeing so many people watch her shocked her into missing a beat, but Kyle put a hand on her shoulder, steadying. She smiled thanks, then plucked his hand off and sang louder.
    Before she finished the song, everyone else in common had stopped singing or even talking. They were looking at her, making her cheeks flush red. She gave a little bow.
    Kyle handed her a glass of actual water and a damp cloth to wipe her sweating forehead. The room spun a bit before settling down, most of the faces still watching her.
    When the next song started, she didn’t sing. Kyle leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You sound like good food tastes, like herbs and flowers and gardens. Thank you.”
    She grinned at him. “And you make things that taste good.” He looked almost handsome in the shifting festival lights, and she forced herself to look away. He was not as handsome as Fox, and he was way too old for her.
    Onor and Marcelle materialized as if from thin air and sat beside her, Onor babbling something about how everyone was watching her, and Marcelle looking worried.
    By the time the festival was over, she decided that Ix, or the reds, or whoever, had been right to leave the day just a celebration, a marking of time. Nothing would really change because of it, nothing ever did. Except maybe, this time, a little bit would change for her.
    A lot of people had stopped to listen to her sing. She would remember the bright, happy looks on their faces.

 
    10: Reclamation
    As the train approached C, Onor slid his helmet closed and drew in a deep breath that smelled of sweaty body and the clammy metallic scent of a suit that needed cleaning bad. They were supposed to get the day off tomorrow, and if they did, he was going to spend time scrubbing it down. Cleaning everything. Frankly, his nose was so irritated that he’d almost prefer going suitless, even in the reportedly unstable life support of the damaged pod.
    Lya sat next to him, looking lost in thought, her long blond hair tangled and twisted down her back. In truth, it wasn’t just their suits that needed cleaning. They hadn’t had a day off since the festival two weeks ago. She nudged him gently. “Do you believe Ruby?”
    “About what?”
    “That we can test into a new life? That someday we won’t get beat up just for existing?”
    “I saw the other levels. They exist.” When Ruby talked about them, they sounded fabulous.
    “What if we die trying?” Lya bit her lip. “Hugh could’ve died when they beat him up. We might not have made it to the train. He was so heavy I was sure we’d have to stop. If I’d been hurt, too, or even twisted an ankle, he would have died. Maybe we would both be dead.”
    Onor put his arm across her shoulders. “This kind of talk makes me think of my parents. They died fighting for what Ruby believes. If I stopped, I’d feel like I was letting them down.”
    “I guess I want to live more than I want to win.”
    “I want to do both,” he said, trying to sound as sure of himself as he could. “Look, we’re almost there. Try and have a little fun today. Find something good.” He swung his helmet up and strapped it on.
    She dropped her faceplate down, his last sight of her mouth a grimace at her own smell. Or at knowing they were in for another long, hard day. Lya almost never looked happy, except when she was with Hugh.
    When Onor climbed off the train, he split from Lya, going to his own detail of five people. There were a hundred total, but they’d been grouped in fives