The Apocalypse Ocean by Tobias S. Buckell, Pablo Defendini Page A

all so quickly in the night that it didn’t reassure him much at all.
    “Okay, for tonight your room is upstairs,” Kay said. “Let me show you.”
    They followed her up the polished wooden steps, Tiago not daring to touch the fine brass guardrail in case he left fingerprints or dirt on it, to the large double doors at the top of the stairs.
    With a flourish Kay opened them.
    Tiago stood at the threshold, something in him unwilling to take another step. There were two beds on each side of the room, plump with soft mattresses and pillows, draped with flowing sheets. The small couch under the window looked more comfortable than anything he’d ever sat on in his life.
    A pitcher of water and several glasses sweated cold condensation on a corner board, and there were even expensive looking books on shelves on the left hand side.
    Kay beckoned them into the room, and they both stepped into it as if it were a dream. “There’s a bathroom around the corner. A change of clothes for each of you. Clean yourselves up, I’ll have the steward come in with something to eat. You’re safe here. Rest. Both of you. And I will see you later.”
    Some people lived every day like this, Tiago thought, as he stepped onto a purple rug with diamond patterns in the center of the room.
    It smelled of flowers.
    Kay swept past them and out the doors. They thudded shut behind her, and that was followed by the sound of a lock creaking as they were both locked in.
    Tiago walked over to the doors and tugged at the handle. It didn’t budge.
    He could see June stagger over to the foot of one of the beds and slump to the floor, curled into a ball and crying silently to himself. 
    Tiago prowled around the massive room. For one, as much as he was awed by the carpet and furniture, the massive beds, he couldn’t help shaking a feeling that there was so much wasted space. Why not cut the room into four little ones? Keep the luxurious comforts, but did there need to be all this wasted space between everything?
    Maybe that was the point, he thought, as he looked into the bathroom.
    No door out of that. No window either.
    The only window was behind the couch. It had metal bars over it, but they were locked to each other and hinged, so that they could open. They were to guard against people trying to get in, not out.
    Someone started unlocking the large doors, and Tiago slumped to sit on the couch casually. A tall man came in with fresh juices and cold meat sandwiches.
    He seemed to expect Tiago to choose a few off the platter he held, but Tiago took the platter out of his hands and put it on the couch. “Thank you!” he said brightly.
    The tall man stared at Tiago, and Tiago stared at the tall man until he finally relented and turned around and left, locking the doors again behind him.
    Tiago took the platter over to June, still at the foot of the bed. “Eat,” Tiago insisted. “You’ll feel better.”
    June wiped his cheeks with the cuff of his grimy shirt. “I’m sorry,” he said, deepening his voice and pulling himself together. “It all happened so fast.”
    “I know,” Tiago muttered.
    They ripped into the cold meat sandwiches with a brief sort of ferocity, and then drank. Then came in for more.
    June paused after swallowing. “Do you trust her?”
    Tiago looked up and wanted to say he did, but the words caught in his mouth. “Kay? You don’t trust her. You do what she says or you’ll pay. That’s how I understand it. You should too. You’re important to her, but she will hurt you to get her way. I’ve seen it. You understand? This is Placa del Fuego, not Palentar, or some poofy Xenowealth world.” Tiago waved around at the luxurious room.
    June put the remains of his sandwich down, appetite apparently lost. “But, she’s just a girl …”
    “All this, this is her doing,” Tiago said. “You’ll see, soon enough.”
    “I don’t want to have anything to do with her,” he said. “I’ve had enough. I just want to go back to