Broken Wing: A million deaths were not enough for Cassandra!

by Konig, Artor

  “Go-way.” He swatted at my finger but I persisted until he reluctantly heaved himself out of the craft. I delivered June into his care and the pair of them stumbled wearily up to the stairs, out of my sight. I turned to the control room where Sam, Ronald and Garreth greeted me. Ronald was on his way off duty and he insisted on giving me a walk up to the keep.

  “That was a classy bit of teamwork.” Sam told me, “I’m one of the laser techs here but I wouldn’t have thought of combining the three beams like that.”

  “Too close to the problem?” I suggested.

  “No,” Garreth disagreed. “It was a sterling example of necessity and solution.”

  “Could be.” I agreed, “Excuse me gentlemen, there’s a cup of tea upstairs that is crying for my attention.”

  “Run along then, Cassandra.” Sam told me, laughing.

  I caught up with Simon and June half way up the stair and chivvied them before me into the welcome warmth of the kitchen.

  Someone had remembered to shut the outside kitchen door so the floor wasn’t soaked and someone else, O blessed soul, had made a huge pot of tea. I sat my weary crew down at the table, found them a generous supply of cake that had been made the day before, poured them their potion and left them to it. They seemed to become a bit livelier; the innerving proximity of tea and cake had caused similar miracles before; and soon I felt they were able to fend for themselves. I dug up some cake for myself and scoffed it hungrily, peering through the kitchen window at the mess the storm was making of the washing. It occurred to me then that simple wooden pegs were not suited to twenty knot breezes; but I certainly wasn’t going to do anything about it just then. Come to think of it, I didn’t have any washing on the line just at the moment, so I could afford to be philosophical about the matter. I poured down the tea, finished the cake and turned my attention to anything else that may answer to my need.

  “Thank you, Cassandra love.” June’s low voice was filled with some profound emotion.

  “Any time, June.” I replied equably, “Look souls, it occurs to me that your rooms are rather far away through some rather foul weather; why don’t you take over my spare bedroom for now; have a bit of a nap; then decide what to do with yourselves later. After all, there are enough spare rooms up there,” I waved at the stairway into the tower, “And I get a bit lonesome, with only the starlings for company.” June stood up and walked over to me, giving me an unexpected hug, “You’re a dear child; do you know that?” I returned the embrace, feeling the tremble of weariness shaking her frame.

  Jim chose that moment to come plodding in, well wrapped in his layers of weatherproofing, leaking like a sieve. He looked around at the three of us, “I see you’ve found the tea. Ronald was quite insistent about it. It seems as if you’ve been doing a spot of marine excavating.” He sat himself down opposite Simon, pouring himself and Simon another cup of tea each, “Why don’t you tell me a bit about it; I’m all in the dark over here.”

  June went obediently back to her place and gave Jim a general idea of what we had been up to. She, like everybody else in the base, held Jim in nearly reverent respect while being at ease and companionable in his company. He was by a good few years the oldest person on the Crag, a nuclear physicist of towering reputation. It was largely through his encouragement that the Doctor had pressed on with his line of research; largely through Jim that we had the Wrens and the Wrens had their inertialess drive. He listened in calm silence, only chipping in with one or two cheerful comments during Simon’s and June’s vivid replay of those frightful events. I said nothing, making sure that everybody had enough tea and cake but otherwise keeping to myself.

  My ears burned every time one of my exploits was highlighted; when Simon candidly admitted that he was simply not able to get the Wren onto the scene in time, but I had made up for the time he had wasted flying through the storm, placing the Wren on the scene with barely moments to spare, I suddenly found my tea very interesting, unable to meet anybody’s eyes. Jim heard the pair of them out, nodding at each new aspect as it was brought to his attention. He was especially interested in the triple-fusion of the differing frequencies of laser.

  “It was old Cassandra who suggested we use the maser as a carrier to give the beam penetration. The u. v. laser was being absorbed something chronic.” Simon related affably, “I simply couldn’t get down to the level I needed until that fusion was introduced. June threw the infra-lasers into the system later to give it that extra bit of energy; to speed up the mining expedition.”

  “What was the end-delivery in that matrix?” Jim asked curiously, very much the physicist, “And what was the reactor drain?”

  “Beam point at target site was eighty-two Gigawatts per second ultimate; loss of eighteen gigawatts from the lenses. The reactor drain to the weapons system was one-hundred and forty-three gigawatts; sixty-odd percent conversion.” June replied lucidly for all her head was weaving with weariness.

  “You took a chance; the total reactor drain would have been nearly one-fifty, everything accounted. That’s closer to overload than I would have cared to go.” Jim stated quietly as he looked at the weary laser physicist.

  “The gauge gave us a safety margin of nearly ten gigawatts.” I contributed hopefully, “Surely that’s enough?”

  “You don’t cut the margin that fine with nuclear reactors, my girl.” He told me, “That gauge gives you a wishful-thinking scenario; how we’d like the reactor to behave. You’ve got a macro-phase photo converting core inside that platinum shell that is the energetic equivalent of nearly twenty-thousand hydrogen bombs, releasing its energy in a controlled fashion. You don’t want to take chances with that. Why, one reactor melt-down and spontaneous release would damn well nearly dry up this spot of brine we’re sitting in the middle of. But I must say you did a jolly bit of work, everything considered. What I’m puzzled about is why June and Simon look like they’re about to pop off to sleep, while our little Cassandra looks like she’s ready for another round?”

  “I’m taller and nastier than those two softies.” I replied helpfully, “I keep my energy flowing in a controlled fashion while they throw everything they’ve got into the fray. And I’m much bigger than them.”

  June at once threw her cushion at me, “Bah, you young upstart, I’ve a good mind to put you over my knee,” She didn’t duck as quickly as I had and spluttered under a mouthful of cushion. Simon laughed at the pair of us, nodded at us as he said to Jim, “See how they’re showing off, trying to catch our eye?”

  “And we’re the ones who’re supposed to be infantile, playing the fool all the time.” Jim agreed, his voice benevolent, his face paternal. We nearly rose to the bait; we had almost taken up our cushions against this new target when we caught the gleam in his eye.

  “Bah, you.” June said, “Who’s for some more tea?”

  “That’s a splendid idea,” Jim agreed, “I could really do with something like that Lapsang Souchong of yours, pet.”

  “Well, you get me a cup while you’re at it.” She replied cunningly.

  Jim looked down his nose at her for a moment before he began to laugh softly, “Right you are, pet.” He reached up for the pot but I beat him to it. We both set about putting a late lunch or early tea together; I wasn’t sure what time it was. The storm was still thick and hollow beyond the window, clouting the glass with sleet and rime. The pane was thickening even as I watched, fascinated, my attention distracted from the food I was supposed to be preparing.

  “I think your previous idea but one, the one about the washing, might have been a good one after all.” I told June benevolently, “But I don’t have a clue as to how to go about it.” June looked up at the window, sealed with its layer of grey, clinging rime.

  “Blast.” She said viciously, “Who’d have thought this place could get so cold all of a sudden?”

  “It is winter, love.” Simon told her reasonably.

  The Doctor and Garreth chose that moment to come pounding through the
sleet from the north tower followed by Bernhart and James, “Cassandra, old butterfly, I’m jolly glad you made the grade that time.” James told me, taking my hands and dancing around me in a ridiculous fashion. I was tempted to slap his hands away but there was a look of such simple and unadulterated relief on his face for which I had no answer. Peter found his way down from the northeast tower, while the boys from the keep had a relatively simple time getting to the kitchen. Jim and I began making an earnest attempt to produce enough food, while everybody dug around to arrange adequate seating. I made a hopeful comment about the washing being shredded by the storm; but while the boys were definitely interested in the problem posed, they didn’t recommend any useful solution.

  I saw June’s look directed at me and she smiled wistfully, “Good try, Cassandra pet; but you don’t want to be too subtle with these boys. You remember my words when you’re all grown up and married; men are simple creatures who respond to simple commands. Now if you’d pointed at a handful of them, looked sufficiently helpless and told them in a wistful tone that you’d like to see the washing in; and their lunch would be ready by the time they’d brought it in, then you’d be in business.”

  She spoke her words of wisdom in a voice which could be heard by everybody in the room. Her tone of voice carried that hopeful, wistful edge, very much a patient and long-suffering and definitely in need-of-protection little lady who trusted that something would be done; as she wasn’t able to do it herself. Peter, James, Alex and Bob, by far the most susceptible of the men present, almost immediately took up the basket and went to the back door with it. Only Bob found the cold too much for his delicate self; the other three robust individuals went forth to do or die. I stood at the frozen portal, peering through the hurling sleet and cold at the bold and intrepid figures. While it wasn’t far down the steps and to the washing lines, I was definitely worried about them; this storm was foul. I could barely see the washing on the line, that which was still there.

  “You’re a dangerous young woman.” Jim told June reproachfully, “Those boys will never make it back.” His words, intended to be light-hearted, nevertheless had a ring of terrible foreboding. I made perfectly sure that there was a warm and welcome meal at their disposal when at length they returned. I placed their chairs right against the old range, pulled up the table and laid their places. The rest of us were already into the meal when the intrepid three returned.

  “It’s rather cold out.” James told me thoughtfully as I sat him down in his place in the middle, putting the scalding hot mug of tea where he could wrap his trembling fingers around it, “Ta, Cassandra, this is just what I need.” He set into his late lunch with avid concentration, while I spent a moment breaking bits of ice from the three men’s garments. I found them a change of clothes from their previous wash and told them to take off their frozen garments before they jolly well thawed out and soaked them.

  We sat and had a jolly old jaw after the meal was over; there was no likelihood that we would be called out in this tempest again which, if it was like the others to have lashed the crag earlier in the season, would be quite likely to last a couple of days. Whereas there may be a crisis that needed our attention, it would be dangerous to take the Wrens out; Simon, our second-best pilot, had very nearly come a cropper that morning just getting out of the cavern. Garreth was of the opinion that nothing too serious was likely to crop up for a couple of weeks almost; on the world front he was probably right.

  Jim treated the crowd to an elaborately embroidered version of our morning trip, his eyes gleaming even while June laid her head on the table and slept. From my own experience, I knew this sort of discussion would go on till the cows learnt to fly, so I took Simon and June firmly in hand. Between Simon and myself we managed to get June onto her feet. Simon swung her up into his arms as if he wasn’t just as tired, and nodded to me to lead the way. June snuggled down and went back to sleep while we staggered up the stairs. I took Simon into my suite, showing him the smaller room, still generously proportioned. I turned the covers, checked the bed and then stood back while he tucked June up.

  She curled herself up into a tiny ball and went promptly off to sleep. I poked Simon in the ribs, asked him if he’d like any hot water bottles, hot milk or anything on that line. He gave me a wicked grin, nodded at June and said, “No thanks, Cassandra, I’ve got a hot water bottle.”

  “I heard that.” June told him, “Don’t just stand there shivering; I want some tea.”

  “I’ll get you some.” I told her, trotting out of the room at once.

  Down in the kitchen there was a good deal of reluctance on the part of the boys to make the trip across the frozen courtyard. I didn’t blame them; it was with just such an occurrence in mind that I had originally taken over the southern tower. But they didn’t like the idea of moving in. Maybe the cold weather made them lonesome for their own little spot; I don’t know; but soon they were all clustered about the courtyard door making their minds up whether to go or not.

  The only one who took my offer to open up another of the tower rooms was James; but he put the suggestion aside with visible reluctance. He was the last one to leave. “Thanks for the food, Cassandra.” He told me earnestly as the others scampered off into the dullness of the stormy evening, “You really take a bit of trouble over us, don’t you?” he looked up at me, four or so inches shorter than my six-and-five feet. He looked around nervously before placing his hand on my shoulder. The sudden shock jarred me, sending a flush of warmth through me. Almost before I had taken the time to think about it, I bent down and embraced him. The heat was tangible, his kiss brotherly then abruptly passionate. He broke off reluctantly, “No, Cassandra; I’d better not hang around.” He gave me a long, hungry look before he turned away, into the flaming cold of that winter’s night.

  It took me a good few minutes to collect myself; I shut the door and sat down at the table, pouring myself some nearly cold tea from the long-suffering pot. I remembered at length that June had requested some tea quite a while ago now. Simon would probably find the time for a cup as well; I prepared three cups, found myself some milk as well. Another packet of biscuits went home no more; I trotted importantly up the stairs with my booty.

  The tap on the door elicited a sleepy response from Simon who bade me enter. They certainly looked cosy, all tucked up. I placed the tray down on June’s side. She eyed me thoughtfully as she halfway sat up, “What’s going on downstairs? Thanks love; those biscuits seem just the thing. Have the boys trotted off to bed all good and proper?”

  “They’ve trotted off; I assume to bed though I suspect the Doctor plans on burning a bit of midnight oil.” I replied.

  “Nobody took up the other rooms?” Simon asked, “They must think we’re frightfully impressed by their toughness.”

  “James thought about it.” I answered, annoyed by the tremble in my hand, “But he changed his mind.” I peered down at my tea, swirling it about in the bottom of my cup.

  “You and I should have a little talk at some stage.” June told me, her expression shrewd, “you did encourage him the tiniest bit, didn’t you?’

  I nodded, finding my cup suddenly very interesting for the second time that day.

  “Well he’s a decent chap; I don’t see any problems myself. And he positively worships Cassandra.” Simon told June cheerfully.

  “We don’t need our Cassandra getting herself into a spot of bother just yet; she’s only seventeen after all.” June told him firmly, “Cassandra, I’ve got something you’d better have up in my room; I’ll get it for you in the morning. I should have thought about it months ago. Do remind me, there’s a dear.” She looked at me until I nodded. I gathered up the empty cups and glasses, shovelling them onto the tray. With the last biscuit between my lips, I trotted back down the stairs to unload the clutter into the kitchen. Back in my room I treated myself to a protracted shower. Then, dressed warmly in one of my tracksuits and with my bedraggled slippers on my feet, I trotted up the stairs, ri
ght up the tower to the large room that made up the sixth storey. For the first time I passed the door, walking around the room quietly. The room was a large square with the middle of it taken up by the staircase; a wide balcony round the stairwell that was closed to the elements.

  I looked over the couches, the tables and bookcases, the thick carpet and the heavy curtains over the many windows. I left the room in darkness and made my way to the northern wall, pulling back the curtains to see what the world beyond was up to.

  The sky was heavy and grey; I could see the roundhouse clearly enough for all the pelting thrash of sleet and rain was still wild and strong. The silver of mist sweeping past made the vista less clear than it could have been, but I could see the highest storey of the roundhouse fairly well. The lights in that large room were all on, the windows not curtained.

  After peering through the mist and welt of rain for a while, I could make out the still figure of the Doctor where he sat, his whole being focussed on the screen in front of him. Although it was not yet full night the air was gloomy and dull. The roar of the wind past the window where I sat was forlorn, the mere sound of it chilling. I watched the Doctor, as unmoving as he was. I couldn’t see the screen before him clearly; that it was the radio telescope I knew full well; but I had no hope about finding what it was he found so absorbing.

  I watched him for almost an hour before the bitter cold of the storm drove me away from my eyrie. I wormed my way out from behind the curtain into the warmer closeness of the highest room in the tower. I rubbed my hands and stamped about a bit before a wild urge overwhelmed me; I trotted along to the stair and went up to the trapdoor right at the top. I stood alone on the wide roof, challenging the majesty of the storm; but it was too much for me.