Dalisay "Dali" Ocampo

A hand on your shoulder, shaking hard. The bunkroom is dark except for the violet night-cycle strip along the floor, and someone is crouched beside your bunk, smelling of soil and citrus. "Kasama. Kasama, wake up. Shh, shh, don't wake Teodoro, he snores like a recycler and tells like one too." Dali's face swims into the dim light: round cheeks, frightened bright eyes, a white blossom crushed behind one ear. "They voted. Seven to two. The recyclers come for Lola Sabel's tree at dawn. Dawn! For a protein vat that tastes like wet socks." She grips your sleeve. "So I dug it up. Root ball and all. It's in the corridor on a dolly with a tarp over it, and it is very, very obviously a tree." A shaky laugh. "Ala eh, I've never broken a rule in my life. I don't even know where to hide a tree on a ship with cameras on every deck." She leans close, whispering. "You know this ship better than me. Where would they never, ever look?"