Gemma wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her gloved hand before slamming her pickax into the mine’s wall for the thousandth time today. The taste of chemicals lingered on her tongue as she sucked in Perileos’ stale, processed oxygen.Thank the stars I only have a few more hours of this.
She’d been working in these mines for the last two-and-a-half years, sourcing the rocks and minerals that paid for essential goods from off-world, prepping for tonight’s midnight hike to the tower of Zion where she would finally enact her plans to avenge her sister’s murder.
A loud buzzer signaled the end of Gemma’s shift. She rolled her shoulders and swung her head from side to side, trying to stretch out her sore muscles. Her pickax hit the ground with a thud, then she marched to the mining transit that would take her into the underground city of Perileos. She had roughly three hours before she needed to be at the gathering point for those making the overnight hike to Zion. She couldn’t be late.
Gemma stepped out of the mining transit into the bustling streets of Perileos, dodging and weaving through the hordes of grouchy commuters on their way home from their twelve-hour shifts. Colorful stalls lined the narrow streets of the city district, full of merchants crying their wares, selling what little they made to afford necessities. The din in thisdistrict was deafening between the chattering of mixed languages and the robotic guards shouting to keep order. Gemma was used to the chaos, but today, of all days, she could do without the crowds.
Gemma accidentally bumped into a gray-haired woman, knocking the old lady sideways as she passed. She shouted sorry and winced but maintained her brisk pace. Any other day, she would’ve stopped to make sure the woman was okay, but right now, she couldn’t waste a single second.
She pushed her way through the crowd; it thickened the closer she got to the tram stop on the outskirts of the city sector. She wrinkled her nose at the nauseating smells of overcooked meat, alcohol, and body odor. Tram stops were infamous for their QuikShops where any resident could quickly grab a skewer of mystery meat or a pint of disgusting RevaBeer.
Gemma pulled the faded, red bandanna she wore around her neck up and over her nose as a ragged man tore strips off his skewer, washing it down with a pint. If only the exhaust system in Perileos sucked out the stench with the carbon dioxide.
The tram to Sector 45 was just as crowded as the streets. Gemma ground her teeth and tried not to shove anyone, but they were packed so tightly that she could count the pores on the face of a dirt-stained woman whose large breasts pressed against Gemma.
The woman’s breath reeked of tobacco, a plant brought to the United Planetary Systems by their Earthling ancestors centuries ago. Even with the bandanna concealing her nose, Gemma still had to turn her face to stamp down the bile rising in her throat. It was despicable that the Systems continued to allow her people to live in such horrid conditions.
The ride itself might as well have been hours. The moment the tram stopped, Gemma leapt out and hurried through the less-crowded streets.
Her pulse increased when she checked the hour on a timepiece in a diner. Getting from work to her housing sector had taken forty minutes.
Blast. It would likely take as long to get from home to the contestants’ gathering point at the facility exit. She had no time to waste.
Gemma jogged through Sector 45 until she reached her flat. She held her palm over the keylock, and the door slid open with awhoosh.
“Hello, Gemma.”
She startled at the familiar voice and hurried to shut the door, her heart racing. Seated on her tattered, green sofa was a man with a gray-streaked beard, a man whose face could be seen on wanted posters all over Perileos:
Reymond, leader of the most powerful rebel organization on Reva—the Dissent.
The first time he’d appeared in this very flat, almost three years ago, he’d shared leaked security footage of her sister’s murder. Since then, Reymond had overseen Gemma’s training and taught her what to expect inside Zion from the moment she entered the doors as a contestant to the day she completed her mission.
An unscheduled visit from Reymond was rarely a good thing. What in the blazes was he doing in her flat—and today of all days?
“You know you can’t be seen in here,” Gemma snapped.
“We didn’t have enough time for you to find me.” A wince crossed Reymond’s lined face as he stood and limped toward her, handing her a small box. “You’re going to need this for your mission.”
Gemma stared at the shiny, black container before cautiously taking it. “Should I be worried?”
“Maybe. It’s poison. For Rami. Or you.”
She opened the box. Inside, a flawless, black gemstone sat in a silver ring. It was of simple design, yet somehow Gemma was transfixed. How could something this beautiful be so deadly?
“When in contact with drinking alcohol, a chemical reaction takes this gem from stone to liquid. Pass the Trials, and there’s always a formal party to celebrate. Get close enough to Rami to pop the stone out of the ring, and if it happens to fall into his drink...” He exaggerated a shrug. “But if they find out you’re with us...Well, let’s just say you’ll probably prefer the poison.”
Gemma swallowed. Could she poison herself if it came to it? She’d seen these rings used before. She’d been trained on how they worked.
Her jaw tightened as the thought of working in the mines for the rest of her life flickered across her mind. Of course she could poison herself. She had nothing to come back to.
Her parents were gone. Her sister was dead. The life expectancy on Reva was shorter than anywhere in the United Planetary Systems. And to spend the rest of her life here, encouraged to pop out babies to keep the population up...
A flicker of a memory passed through Gemma’s mind: the infirmary’s doctor firing her after thirteen years, when she’d spiraled out of control and ended up in one of his beds. But when her sister died, Gemma’s soul had fractured—the one person she wanted to save above all the others in the galaxies she’d never see again.
A pang shot through her chest. She’d take the poison before returning to Perileos any day.
Gemma pulled the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger, the new weight an encouraging reminder that revenge was close. “I’m ready.”
