Chapter 208: That Day

Lounge, Montaparte

“What was the moment when you first got suspicious?” the engine caretaker asked with pride in his tone — he seemed incredibly pleased with how things were progressing. Montaparte could imagine he would; after all, she delivered an impeccable performance.

She met his gaze with a measured look. “It’s when Dema told me Kaylay had tried to reach out to her a couple of times after the murder, but Dema was too busy then. I was thinking: ‘What made Kaylay persevere through several rejections?’ Of course, Dema didn’t even perceive it as a rejection, she just bumbled along.”

The lounge was a bit thinner now. Raquina had left to check the storage, and Dema was escorting Kaylay and the stowaway to the accommodation chamber where they would be ejected from the train shortly. Everyone else was staying around at Montaparte’s behest so she could finish up the procedures. There was still time left that required spending.

“Well,” the caretaker responded, “I initially had my doubts about your work. But I am glad we came to an amicable conclusion, so we can finally put this entire debacle behind us. Disruptions in the train’s schedule are bad for everyone. Let’s not dwell; the culprit will be dealt with and we’ll set off to our next stop, shall we?”

“Sure,” Montaparte responded, “but first — I need us all here to have a bit of a get-together concerning security on this train. The truth is, this tragedy could have easily been avoided if just for a few small tweaks in the way the train operates. If you’ll indulge me?”

Montaparte smiled. Acting was fine for a while, but by now the exhaustion started to hit. 

What was the moment when you first got suspicious?

A good question indeed, answered with a lie, of course.

The true moment?

It was when the staff had evaded one of the simplest questions Montaparte could have asked. What happens if someone moves against the train?

Staff decrees are absolute.

A sentence spoken by those who relish in their power, rather than using it for good. For now, Montaparte had done all she could to provide an opening, it was upon others to make use of it. Because, sure, she’d laid bare the scheme toward the right people — but still, there was one nagging question left. 

What secrets could compel the staff to frame someone for murder?

Accomodation Chamber, Dema

“Sorry,” Dema said, placing a freshly brewed cup of warm and steaming blood plasma right into Kaylay’s shivering hands. “You look parched! Didn’t mean to scare you when I fetched you like that, but we had to put on a good show… I wish we could have warned you, but there was no time!”

Kaylay tugged the blanket closer around herself with her cute leech tentacles and sipped at the cup of blood. “I—I don’t understand what’s going on,” she said. “I didn’t kill anyone on the train.”

“I know!” Dema assented vigorously. She still felt bad for how it all went down. “We all know! I mean, Montaparte and I and Bun Bun and such, we know. But we had to make-believe to find the true culprit…”

“True culprit?” G’mina said with curiosity in their voice as they hopped around the chamber. “Also, what will happen to us now…?”

“Yep!” Dema confirmed. “Montaparte is still up there distracting them while Bun Bun searches the train… But, well, what will happen to you two is that the staff wants to kick you off, but of course, I’m not gonna let that happen! We’ll stay here in safety til Bun Bun comes to fetch us.”

“You gave Rita immortality?” Kaylay whimpered, her hands wrapped tight around her cup. “Was that the truth, or part of the ruse…?”

“Yep! Sure did. She doesn’t want it indefinitely, and I can reslot later, but I figured it’d help her get through the train with less stress. Cause you’re on your way to a place that can cure her, right?”

Kaylay nodded, letting out a sob. “Thank you.”

Engine Caretaker, Lounge

The caretaker was pleased. For the first time in a week, he smiled. Order could now return to the train.

People shuffled around him — the locomotive would have to acclimate to a new reality after the two troublemakers got kicked out; now, it was time to wait. Stragglers had stayed in their room, but stragglers always existed, the train would not be bothered.

And so, everything had found its place. The caretaker liked what Raquina had said earlier: “On this train, staff decrees are absolute.”

It had not always been that way, truth be told. There didn’t used to be a division. The train existed, and people would work together to go where they wanted. If someone new boarded, things would be explained to them so they could grant assistance, if they chose to.

A terrible system, for it bred chaos, and bad feelings. It was inefficient. Much better to have specific people in control of the experience.

Ulber slid a drink over the counter. The caretaker fetched it in his palm with an appreciative nod. She would learn, too. Soon, even. She’d done well on this train so far.

That thought soured his mood slightly, for it reminded him of Raquina. That woman… she understood the train, she accepted it. But she never was a fervent proponent. Perhaps something needed to be done about her soon. No matter how many times the caretaker explained things to her, all she did was nod and smile that weary smug smile of hers.

And if she went, maybe Alp could go too. Although the old doctor had always been content on the sidelines, not meddling.

The caretaker took a sip of the tangy ferment. All of this was so easy, and yet, every now and then, individuals felt the need to make things difficult.

People wanted to go places. That was the rule of the world. Sometimes, going places took resources and effort. And people did not want to spend resources and effort. They didn’t want to know the truth — that was why the Lavish worked so well. It was the fantasy they wanted to live in: they only wished to get from A to B. And so, the staff protected them from it. The sacrifices had to be made for them, out of view, out of mind, so everyone was happy.

Thus, the staff created an illusion. An illusion that the fuel leading everyone where they wanted to go was praise. That they didn’t need anything other than to be kind. It was a calming fabrication. Nobody would have to consider the things they didn’t want to think about, they just sat in the train and waited to arrive. 

And that illusion yet held.

It would always hold.

Poxie, Lounge

The fabric around Poxie’s eyes was still damp, the wood still swollen. She’d stopped crying, though — had to, to not disturb Montaparte’s act. She was sitting way in the back of the lounge with Log, who was hugging her close, her seawater scent a welcome reprieve from the too much that was going on around her, especially now that people had started chattering.

Omi was talking to Ulber, trying to figure out what should be ‘done’ to Kaylay aside from throwing her off the train; of course, Omi was just buying time too. 

For a long while, Poxie just sat there, gently brushing over the piece of fabric Omi had sewn onto the vulnerable spot for its protection, closely in accordance with Bell’s instructions. She’d spent her life worrying that she might suddenly end — now, at least, she had a defense. She had clarity. In a way, it pulled the rug from under her feet. A certain tomorrow. Log brushing her leg or pulling her closer — these touches had lost spice but gained comfort.

Poxie let out a sigh. Perhaps a mistake, for it made Log talk.

“You could have told us,” she muttered, quietly.

A shower of guilt washed down Poxie’s back. Her legs clonked against each other as she pulled them a little closer to herself.

“Whenever I told people, they would stop touching me,” Poxie said, as quietly as she could.

Log was silent for a while. Then, she carefully answered, “But how do you think Omi would have felt if she had accidentally killed you? Especially after what happened to Fen. Don’t keep things like that from us…”

Of course, Log was right, and Poxie nodded into her shoulder. “But… at least it looks like Fen might be okay… right?”

Log sighed, and let out a dissatisfied grunt. “Sure, but— I think, if she really got thrown out, she’s going to be upset when she returns…”

Ah. Poxie had not considered that. They’d been ready for the fallout, of course, when they decided to make the attempt at separating Omi from her. But who knew what Fentanyle was up to now.

Perhaps that was a new thing for Poxie to worry about. Bell wouldn’t always be there to protect her.