The ship lurched making Myleen’s image wobble in the small mirror bolted to the wall. In minutes they would dock in Lushthyme City, and she would have to leave her cabin for the first time since setting sail. Since she saw the military contingent that boarded at the last minute. Any one of them could be working for him. If they saw her? She hated to think what might happen. Being one of the Disappeared would be the best of it. Her fake identification wouldn’t matter. Not if they already knew her from the program.
Myleen locked herself in her cabin. Only opened the door to the porter who had shown her there firstly. The stress and the rolling of the ship churned her stomach so she vomited most of what she ate. The constant nausea and frequent vomiting had taken a toll. Her albino complexion was waxy making her golden-green eyes brighter. But it wasn’t her eyes that worried her. It was her hair. Brown would draw attention she didn’t want, but it wasn’t just brown anymore. Her hair had turned bright violet at the roots, and changed like the veining of leaves to deep green at the tips. She had covered it to board, and kept it covered when she opened the door. The color had only gotten brighter in the time on the ship.
A loud horn sent her hands over her ears, and tears from her eyes. How was she going to get off the ship unseen? She hugged her stole to her stomach and prayed. A knock sounded on the door, and the voice of the porter called out the time until docking. Myleen grabbed a thin towel and wrapped her head, then she opened the door and called the young man back to her.
“I think I’ve ruined everything I brought with me. Being sick,” she said, and placed her fingers over her mouth. “Is there anything I could put on over my soiled clothes? Anything at all?”
The porter looked at her with sympathy. He had felt bad for how sick she had been throughout the trip. Ocean travel wasn’t for everybody. “I have a spare rain coat and hat.”
“I could pay you for them,” Myleen said. “I would be so grateful.”
The porter shook his head. “No. No need. I’m just glad the trip is over for you. I’ll be right back with them.” The porter smiled a sad smile and bobbed his head before walking away.
Myleen rushed to pack everything she wanted to keep in a small shoulder bag. When the porter knocked she had everything ready.
“I need to get back to my rounds. I hope you feel better once you’re back on dry land.”
Myleen thanked the retreating back, and pulled the door to her cabin shut. She shouldered the bag and pulled the bulky coat on over all. She re-wrapped her hair tighter and put the hat on. It slid down nearly over her eyes. A gentle tremor shook the ship as it bumped into the dock. She took a deep breath and went out to make her way to the deck.
Myleen, dipped her head and pulled the oiled shawk skin hat further down. The calf length overcoat hid her form, and she limped and bobbed in her gate. The throng of passengers trying to disembark into the bustle of the Lushthyme City docks bumped and jostled her, but she refused to change her pace. She didn’t dare to look around for the military. The image of the faceless hand she feared would cease her twisted her innards. Her breath came shallow and fast.
The gangplank bounced and wobbled pitching her to and fro. She stood still only a moment on the dock to get her balance back before moving on. She heard a military order to come to attention. Myleen turned away from the voice calling orders and moved into the crowd.
Merchants hawked their wares. Fishermen shouted the day’s catch. People long separated came back together. Myleen moved from the main dock into smaller, quieter streets, the looming towers of metal and glass guiding her path. The smell of fish and oil and ocean carried on the wind, but military voices were gone. The press of people became less. The streets turned and splintered. Mayleen moved always toward the shine of the Ghost Sector.
The noise died away. The stone streets gave way to glassy tiles under foot. Myleen felt her shoulders hunch. Paranoia caused her to look back often. She walked faster, and pulled the hat down further. Her ears strained for the sound of someone, anyone, following her. She ran her hand along the glass surface of the nearest tower looking for a door. The great towers cast her into deep shadow. Turning a corner she stopped and waited. No sound followed. She gazed into a shadow reflection of the street she had just left. Nothing moved.
Myleen walked the maze of towers, bare feet making little sound. The wind whined through the towers. Myleen’s shadow reflection stared back from dozens of dark glass surfaces. No light came from within the towers. She jumped often as another shadow of herself gave her a start. She stopped often to listen, but only heard the wind. Looking up she saw multiple enclosed walkway connections between towers. The whole Ghost Sector was connected.
Countless turns brought her to a covered entry way. The large rotating entry door moved under Myleen’s light touch. She stepped into the moving space with a deep breath. The door turned, the seal thwumped, air blew, and a purple light glowed soft. The purple light traveled the length of her form. The door stopped its rotation. The air became stale and hot. Myleen pushed one way then the other. She leaned into the center between the glass wall spokes, and tilted her head back. Her breathing became ragged and harsh. She shed the coat and hat, and sunk to the floor. She pulled the towel from her head.
“Better dead here, than . . .”
A series of clicks and whistles drown Myleen’s words. The purple light flowed over her again. She turned golden-green eyes to look into the light source. A low hum ran into the depths of the building. Myleen stood and tried to see through the darkness within. She put her hand on the glass to lean closer. The door turned again.
The air in the lobby was cool and still. Very little light came from the outside. Myleen moved forward. The floor was cool under her feet. “Now what?” she asked the darkness around her. A series of small lights ran along the base of a wall down a hallway. Myleen moved slowly the way the lights were flowing.
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