Free Fierce September by Fleur Beale Page B

were meant to put on some of the skinny garments we’d discarded as useless. We rummaged through the piles for another look.
    The time zapped past, so that we jumped when Fergus gave us a five-minute warning. He made us show him what we’d chosen. ‘To make sure nobody takes more than they should, but also to make sure what you’ve got won’t make you stand out from the local people.’
    None of us had taken more than we should – we people of Taris were compliant, but we were also used to living with the good of all in mind. Fergus shook his head over a shirt of bright pink zebra stripes Biddo had chosen. ‘No self-respecting citizen would wear that.’ He dropped it on the floor and grinned at Biddo. ‘Go and find something … calmer.’
    The rest of us stared after him as he ambled back to the shelves. That was so unlike the Biddo we thought we knew! He was the boy all us girls hoped we wouldn’t end up having to marry – he was nice enough, but so staid, so boring, so only interested in machinery and technology.
    I took in at the rest of the stuff he’d chosen. A fluoro jacket, jeans with a splash of glitter across the pockets …
    Fergus went over, picked out a plain grey sweater and handed it to him. ‘For the occasions when you might find it useful to blend into the background.’
    Biddo shrugged. ‘Okay. Thanks.’
    We went back upstairs, well pleased with our haul.
    ‘Come to my place,’ Silvern said to the rest of us girls. ‘Let’s try it all on.’
    When our stomachs reminded us it was time to eat again, we changed into our jeans, packed up the rest of our gear and returned to the dining room where chatter and excitement greeted every new arrival. Mother was wearing jeans and a jumper made of fluffy pale green wool. ‘Wow! You look so stylish!’ She looked happy too. Dad had gone for a plain look in shades of brown, but he looked good as well. Hera was the only one of us not in trousers. She kept pirouetting to make her blue skirt flare out and sparkle.
    The clothes took our minds off the events of the early morning, but once we’d finished the meal and Willem was ready to speak to us, we could no longer ignore what had happened. Why had those people tried to harm us? We hoped Willem had some answers.
    ‘Good evening, everyone.’ He paused, waiting for our murmurs of greeting to fade. ‘This morning’s events … I can only apologise.’ He checked his watch. ‘The news will be on shortly, and that will make interesting viewing, but briefly this is the situation as we understand it so far.’
    He gave us the bare outline – the group who had targeted us were determined to keep refugees out of Aotearoa. ‘We had a big influx after the fourth pandemic. We took in as many as we could. Some said it was too many. Others asked how we could turn away the desperate. There were problems, of course. Many of the refugees came from very different cultures.’
    Oban asked, ‘Did this group – the ones who tried to kill us – come into being after that?’
    Willem nodded. ‘After that pandemic, people who thought like that began to get themselves organised.’
    ‘And have been a thorn in the flesh of all the rest of the country ever since,’ Malia added.
    Willem managed a brief smile. ‘Indeed they have, which is why we took such care to keep the details of your arrival secret. We were not careful enough, as it turned out.’ He signalled to Leng. ‘News time.’
    She pressed a control which unfurled a big screen on the back wall. ‘Just a word of warning – some of the images you’re about to see are holograms. They might be frightening for the younger ones, but at this time of day only benign images are shown.’
    That made us sit up. I glanced at Biddo, sitting pretty in his fluoro jacket and glittery jeans. As I thought, he was much more focused on the possibilities of holograms than he had been on the clothes.
    The newscast began with shots of the explosion. We saw the blast punch into