Medvedev returned to her desk and lowered herself into her chair. “Please. If that press conference was any indication, he is a shameless charlatan. And that, after all those foolish lies out of Ceres. I simply cannot believe that you would stand behind such falsehoods, Abigail.”
Abigail stamped her foot. The sound reverberated through the house. “How dare you! I was there too. We raided a uranium enrichment facility, tracked down the bomb, and flew it into orbit. I was the one that let off the detonator, risking life and limb to dispose of it. We saved thousands of lives!”
“I see he left the most dangerous task to you, my dear.”
Abigail took a deep breath. “Never mind. This is a waste of both of our time. I’m sorry you’re a bitter old woman. I’m sorry you can’t accept that there are decent people out there beyond the grasp of your greedy fingers. But I’m finished with you. I’m grateful for what you did for me in the past, but we’re done.”
Something like madness settled behind Medvedev’s eyes. “Yes, I believe we are. If you ever come again to this place, I shall have you removed with force.”
“Believe me. I won’t give you that pleasure.” She spun on her heels, vaguely aware that she hadn’t even accomplished what she’d come here to do. She caught Milena’s eyes on the way out the door. Both shared wordless apologies in the space of a heartbeat.
Half an hour later, Milena found her sitting on the front steps of the manor. “I suppose you’d better come back to my place tonight.”
“Sorry.” Abigail leaned back to look up at the stars. She could only see a few over the glow of the city. Low near the tops of the building, Earth shone a pale blue. It would dip beneath the horizon as the night wore on. She was already in a bad enough mood tonight, and the sight of that planet only made things worse.
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Milena said. “She’s had it coming for years. I hear you aren’t the only one to have read her her rights on the way out the door.”
“Actually I was apologizing for not telling her about the guild. I promised I would.”
“I took care of it. She called me a traitor and a dozen other horrible names, but what’s she going to do? If what you say is true, and guild members are in high demand, she’ll quietly accept it. She won’t throw me out. She never gets rid of any of the women that work for her, despite the abuse she hurls at the underperformers. And I’ll keep working for her. The old hag is my broker because she’s good at what she does, not because she’s pleasant to have tea with. The day she loses her golden touch is the day I find a new broker.”
Abigail shook her head. “Your patience is inhuman. What happened to her, anyway? Why is she like that? I used to think she was mildly misandristic, but clearly she’s a full-blown misanthrope.”
Milena stood and gestured to her van. “You don’t really want to know. But come on, if you insist, I’ll tell you on the way home.”
Abigail glanced back at the dark building. No light escaped from any of the windows and she was glad to turn her back on it.
MISTRESS TATYANA MEDVEDEV sat up long into the night, her work of managing a dozen business empires entirely forgotten. She pushed her papers away with trembling hands.
“How dare she. How dare she.”
Abigail had been her pride and joy. Her star freelancer. When she found the twenty-three-year-old woman, lost and without a friend on Mars, she had recognized the potential. Her miraculous armor had been a taboo subject from the beginning, but Tatyana could respect secrets, though her curiosity gnawed at her. She’d taken Abigail in, taught her the profession of freelancing. Even had men train her to fight and think like a warrior. And Abigail had ended up spitting in her face.
Tatyana had always taken it for granted, that someday her wayward tendencies would be slaked. It was madness to think otherwise. And she had been patient. Oh, so very patient as the months had turned into years. There was nothing that vile man could offer her precious Abigail. It had not entered her darkest dreams that one of her daughters could be so ungrateful.
“They always leave,” whispered the empty room.
Milena, would, of course, be given more chances. What did it matter if she were a member of some frivolous organization if she were still in Tatyana’s tender care? If future chastisement were necessary, it would be dealt with at the appropriate time. Milena would not leave her.
Perhaps she would feel better after a few hours of sleep. Yes. That would help her stomach the betrayal or at least put some distance between herself and the horrible pain. She raised her hand to turn off the lamp but stared at her fingers. Oh, that horrendous shake, the way the tremors took them. She reached for the lamp but knocked it off the desk when she missed the switch. It fell clattering to the ground, the bulb shattering with a pop and flash of light. Then all was darkness.
It closed on her, like wraiths in the night, and she laid her head on her desk.
Sometime later, she heard her door open, and a beam of light spilled in from outside. “Mistress? I heard a sound. Are you alright?”
Dear Natalya. She had not left her, not yet anyway. But that day would come. They always leave.
Tatyana stood to her feet. “I was clumsy, child. I fear I won’t be able to grasp my cane. Help me to my room.”
Her stewardess walked beside her through the dark halls, a hand at her back to keep her steady. Her mind quieted. She was a forgiving woman, and as such, was prone to being taken advantage of. Once, she had tried to force Abigail to see the error of her ways, but she was fixated on that man. And so Tatiyana had deemed patience the kindest of routes. But kindness is not always a virtue.
It was time to be firm with her wayward daughter.
Wormwood: Part 1
I.
TATYANA MEDVEDEV WAS the tallest female student enrolled at the University of Ganymede. At just over two meters, she towered head and shoulders over the other women, let alone most of the men. She could thank her father for the height, or so she’d heard. She only knew the man through vague descriptions from her heartbroken mother. “They always leave,” was the lesson her mother had taught her.
During her first term, heads tended to follow Tatyana as she passed through the quads on the way to her next class. She pretended to ignore them, but in truth, noticed every stare and remembered each of them. Such was the curse of near-eidetic memory, that each painful encounter be catalogued in excruciating detail. By the end of her second term, she had memorized the name of every student and faculty member, from the chancellor to the janitors, and off-hand could relay personal information she had heard on half of them.
She kept this little detail from the few acquaintances she made, thinking it would do little to further her social status, but her professors noticed strange patterns on her exams. When analytical thinking was required, she was a bright if not quite brilliant student. But when knowledge and memorization was an asset, Tatyana’s marks were perfect.
It wasn’t until her second year that she found her life’s one true friend. One afternoon, Tatyana was studying for a statistics class on the grounds beneath a gnarled old beech tree when she was approached by a fellow student. Her eyes flicked up at the intruder that cast a shadow on her work. “Yes, do you need something?”
Mara Jane, a fellow Martian, stood before her. “Hi. Tatyana, right? I’m in charge of putting together the student-faculty basketball game this year, and I was wondering if you could be talked into joining the student team.”
Because she was tall and obviously all tall people were athletic. Lovely. “I’ve never played basketball in my life nor do I have any desire to do so,” she said.
“Most of us haven’t, but school tradition and all.”
“I have a test I’m studying for.” The message was clear and any socially astute adult should have picked up on her cues. Buzz off.
“Oh? What class is it?”
Tatyana eyed her, not quite able to believe that Mara hadn’t gotten the clue. “Statistics.”
>
Mara crept around beside her to look over her shoulder. “Maybe I can help. I’ve taken several stat classes.”
“No thank you, Mara.”
The girl paused and eyed her. “I didn’t realize you knew my name.”
Tatyana sighed. This was beginning to turn into a conversation, something she had been trying to avoid. “I know everyone’s name. Now if you’ll—”
“You calculated the standard deviation wrong.” Tatyana looked at her tablet. Mara leaned over her shoulder and tapped a set of numbers. “Right there. Check your work at this stage and then work it forward. Everything else past that is correct, based on wrong numbers, of course.”
How had she even had time to read the problem, let alone work it out in her head? “Thanks. I think.”
“Anytime. So you’ll help us beat the faculty this year?”
Despite her exceptional memory, Tatyana must have agreed to it, because despite having no memory of agreeing to play in the game, a week later she was on the team that got soundly trounced by the profs.
II.
THERE WAS LITTLE DOUBT post-graduation, that Tatyana and Mara, now inseparable friends, would go into business together. One had the memory for retaining and sorting information, the other an inscrutable ability to crunch numbers. Their first endeavor was an operations consulting company run out of Freeport 11 in orbit over Mars. It was nothing short of a runaway success, and soon they had contracts with half the major Martian corporations. By year’s end, they had over a dozen employees and a sleek office in the station’s commercial district.
Everything was going quite well until a serial killer struck the station. That one of their analysts was among the victims was extraordinarily unlucky. Mara ran the numbers.
She spun her chair around and threw a foam ball at the small basketball goal on the wall of their shared office. Tatyana scowled at her “Can you for once in your life take something seriously for more than five consecutive minutes?”
“What do you expect me to do?” Mara asked. She tossed another ball into the goal. “Nothing we can do will bring Eric back. That’s the end of the story.” She picked up a third ball. “It’s called stress relief. You should try it sometime.”
“I refuse to believe that we are helpless. The only helpless are the ones that do nothing.” Tatyana muttered. “Losing an analyst and replacing him will be costly enough. The bad publicity of an active killer will drive business away from Freeport 11 before long.”
“Real sympathetic there, Tatyana,” Mara said. “The police have their detectives on it.”
“They’ve been on it for months.”
“And with each kill, they’re drawing closer. I hope.”
Tatyana had her doubts. A thought came to her mind. She spun back to her computer and ran her fingers across the keyboard. “Perhaps we should consider hiring a private investigator. That would accomplish justice for Eric and solve the business problem.”
Mara tapped a pen against the desk. “You want an investigator to come to Freeport 11? You’re looking for a freelancer.”
Tatyana coughed out a short laugh. “We’re looking for a skilled professional, not a mercenary.”
“No, really,” Mara said. “They all have specializations. We just need to find the right one. This is probably one of the few good ideas you’ve ever had.”
She gave her business partner a critical glare. “You’re serious about this?”
“Sure. We can afford it. Worst case scenario, we spend a little money trying to avenge Eric. It’s the least we can do and no harm can come from it.”
“And in the best case we put a killer away,” Tatyana said. “Which wouldn’t be bad publicity, either. Very well. Hire a freelancer. I’ll leave it to you, though. I don’t want this becoming a distraction.”
Mara rubbed her hands together. “This’ll be fun.”
Tatyana went back to her reports from Emcom Mining. Someone had to keep a level head around here and keep the business running. That someone would never be Mara.
III.
THE FREELANCER’S NAME was Liam McCarthy, and he was undoubtedly an attractive man. Tall, well built, and even better dressed. For three weeks, he was in and out of the office, making reports to Mara on his investigation. Tatyana never once bothered to introduce herself as the inquiry wasn’t her business. Still, she was curious and kept half an ear open when he was around. It was obvious that Liam deserved his reputation because in just a few days he was making headway. The Freeport 11 police were even cooperating with him in the hopes of bringing the killer down.
At the end of the third week, he introduced himself to her, despite her best efforts at avoiding his doing so. “Liam McCarty. Freelancer, but you already knew that with the eavesdropping you’ve been doing.”
Tatyana averted her eyes. “Yes, you’re so observant. I’m sure you’re very pleased with yourself. I’m Ms. Jane’s partner and I’d be a fool not to pay attention, else her whims might drag us both under.”
“Right. The icy Ms. Medvedev. Mara warned me you had a few sharp spines.”
“Is that so,” she said, making no effort to hide the irritation in her voice. “I’m curious what we’re paying you for. I wasn’t aware that sitting around the office and harassing your employer was part of your contract.”
Liam smiled. “These things take time. But I always get my prey.” He winked and left the office without another word.
The next week, Mara and Tatyana received a threatening message. “Call off your bloodhound, or you’ll be the next to die.”
Liam’s smiles faded at that. “I got cocky,” he admitted, “and the killer knows I’m on to him. You two need to move somewhere safe till this is over.”
“Nonsense,” Tatyana said. “I have obligations to fulfill. Clients that expect my full attention on their projects. Pray tell me how I am to remain ahead of my workload out of the office?”
Mara quietly put a hand on her arm. “Please. Can you for once in your life not be stubborn? We can stay with my folks in Arizona for a few days.”
Tatyana threw her off. “I will not be intimidated.”
Her partner left that evening on the last shuttle out. Liam continued to stop by the office supposedly to make reports, but Tatyana knew he was actually there to check on her safety. It both irked and pleased her. “I can take care of myself,” she said and slammed the door in his face. But she did not mind that he kept an eye on things.
A few days later, she went on her nightly walk through Freeport 11’s public park. A narrow strip of greenery roughly thirty meters wide and two hundred meters long at the center of the station, it had a beautiful view of Mars through its transparent canopy. She had a faint notion that it was quieter than normal, and a warning buzzed through the back of her mind. But Tatyana Medvedev did not give in to fear, and she kept her steady pace.
Suddenly, the sound of scuffle broke out behind her. She turned to see Liam tackle a man to the ground and a moment later wrestle him into binders. The man thrashed and screeched like an animal, but Liam held him firm and gagged him.
“There now,” he said. “I believe Freeport 11 will be safer after this. Though I wish you hadn’t decided to play live bait for a serial killer.”
Tatyana looked at the face of the killer, the man that had stalked Freeport 11 for months and killed one of her most favored employees. Through sheer force of will, she resisted the impulse to shiver. “You seem to have had things in hand,” she finally said to Liam.
Liam jerked the man to his feet. “I didn’t think you had that much faith in me.”
She’d walked into that one. “Just enough, it seems. You are to be commended for a job well done.”
He winked on his way by. “Maybe you can tell me about it over dinner.”
“I will do no such thing,” she said, but she did give him a small smile and a nod. After all, he had saved her life.
IV.
AS THE YEARS PASSED, the business grew beyond consulting. They
began to make acquisitions and expanded into other fields, forming their very own empire. By the time they hit their thirties, Tatyana Medvedev and Mara Jane were among the wealthiest women in the solar system. They left Freeport 11’s commercial district and returned to Tatyana’s home colony of Doch Rossiya.
Liam always dropped by whenever he was in town, much to Tatyana’s annoyance and secret pleasure.
“Well look who it is, fresh off the job,” Mara said. “Our favorite freelancer.”
“Mighty sweet of you,” he said, leaning against the door jamb of their office “It just so happens that the two of you are my favorite clients.”
Tatyana didn’t look up from her work. “Flattery is for the simple and weak of mind. If you are here for a social call, you will be sorely disappointed. We are, as always, busy.”
“Be polite,” Mara said. “An evening off for an old friend wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve already cleared the schedule.”
“Awfully convenient,” Liam said.
Tatyana looked back and forth between them and sighed. “If I am the victim of a conspiracy, then let us get it over with.”
“I have reservations to treat you both at a nice steakhouse,” he said. Tatyana raised an eyebrow at him. Real ranch-raised meat was outside the budget of most freelancers. He shrugged. “Business has been good.”
“Oh dear,” Mara said, clapping a hand dramatically over her mouth. “I’m a vegetarian. I guess I’ll have to pass.”
The plan was suddenly laid bare to Tatyana. “Since when are you a vegetarian?”
The other woman shrugged and gave an impish grin. “Yesterday? But you two go on. No use wasting a good reservation.”
Tatyana straightened her back and nearly refused outright on principle. But Liam was as attractive a man as they came, and he had been rather persistent these last several years. And besides, he had once saved her life. Perhaps it wouldn’t be an unpleasant evening to give in just this once. “Very well. I have been tricked and betrayed, but I accept being outsmarted for the time being.” She stood from her desk and offered her arm to Liam. “Come. Let’s get this over with.”
After Moses: Wormwood Page 14
