by S. J. Higbee
I shifted, fiddling with the smooth skirt. That’s getting mighty close to criticising Norman. Is this some kind of test?
“And the way to get the evidence I need to haul Kelbee to a halt is to have someone on the inside, who can find out what goes on in Procurement.” He paused, looking at me.
He wants me to take the post in Procurement. That’s what the slimer is after. I’ve been set up. Does Norman know about this? Bet they’re in it together! My hands clenched into fists on my lap.
He hurried on, “I’ve read the reports of your Liveaction sortie. You may have made a misjudgement, but your battle instinct is sound. Hugo Gently was impressed by your courage under fire. He reported that you acquitted yourself well for a first time.”
My jaw grazed the ground. He did?
Much good that will do you. Cos there isn’t gonna be a second time, is there? These two are going to see to that. Jessica’s bitter comment bounced around my skull.
George hadn’t finished, “Probably shouldn’t be saying this to you. You’ve scarcely had time to draw breath since alighting at Restormel, let alone figure out the political infighting surrounding your father.”
Don’t reckon Norman would thank me for nosing into that stuff, given he reckons all I’m fit for is going shopping.
“We go back a long way, the three of us. Kelbee bankrolled William when he first expanded the Outfit.” George grimaced. “Even then, I wasn’t happy about the arrangement. And after the major quarrel we had while William was out’ve it, I can’t be the one to find any dirt on Rick. But if this carries on, our people are going to go on getting hurt – you’ve just seen what damage suit failures can do. It won’t be long before someone is going to die out there.” George’s tone was outright wheedling. “I know you want to serve. To make a difference. It mightn’t be what you figured on doing, but you could still save our people by taking the post.”
Looking down, I realised my fingers were tangling my skirt into a crumpled mess. The agony suffered by those three lazar-burned men flickered through my head. Of course, I want to stop that happening to anyone else. And if I don’t take the post in Procurement, what else can I do – other than go shopping? Norman isn’t going to let me see active service.
I tried to smooth my creased skirt over my knees, as I mumbled, “Okay, I’ll take the Procurement situation.”
Number Two’s delighted comments slid past me as I stood up and stumbled from the study. I thought I’d already come to terms with seeing my ambition flushed out of the airlock. I hadn’t.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Returning to the banqueting room was hard, as it took all my self-control not to bang my head against the nearest wall and howl like a lazar-grazed dog. And just when I thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, it did.
After the dinner gong bombinated around the room, Rick Kelbee approached me. “Ah, Elizabeth, there you are, my dear. May I claim the honour of escorting the most beautiful young woman in the room into dinner?” As I battled with my impulse to kick his shins, he tucked my arm under his. “I was delighted to discover that we’re seated next to each other during the meal.”
Flaming Mercury! I hoped my smile looked more convincing than it felt, as I mumbled polite nothings.
He swept me along the glittering banqueting table, seating me with a flourish more suited to the keenest young bravo, instead of a middle-aged bureaucrat. “You can tell me all about your exciting adventures in capturing those dreadful pirates. William tells me that you acquitted yourself with great courage.”
“Father tends to be too generous with his praise,” I muttered, wishing one of us was at the bottom of a black hole. And it wasn’t necessarily Kelbee.
“You prone, my dear? If I may say, you’re looking somewhat used up.” Now seated alongside, he didn’t actually nudge me but it was a close-run thing. “Too much of William’s excellent wine, perhaps?”
Anger flushed away my self-pitying misery. “You implying I’m drunk?”
“Please don’t take offence. William would just hate it if you were to cause him any embarrassment, my dear. I’m just looking out for you.” As he leaned towards me, he picked up the water carafe and offered it with raised eyebrows. It came to me that he was jabbing me, hoping I’d lose my temper and make a scene.
I’m not falling into your slimy trap! You must really think I’m a wet-brain. Which was when I realised that if his opinion of me was so poor, I could use it. Therefore, I let out a gusting sigh and leaned towards him. “Thank you. You’ve no idea how comforting it is to hear a kindly word from someone. So many people here seem so jealous and untrusting of me. And…” I allowed my voice to wobble, “I miss Mum.” I realised with distant horror, blinking my stinging eyes, it was true – I did miss her. And the boys.
“Oh, my dear! I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” He radiated sympathy.
“I’m really, really grateful to the General,” I gabbled, conscious that Kelbee would probably like nothing better than to stir up strife between us. “He took me away from a hard situation and gave me a home and a name. But.” I sighed. “I messed up bigtime over that business with the pirates. Didn’t follow orders. So they won’t let me go out on patrol, again.” I paused while a waiter ladled soup into my bowl.
Picking up his spoon, Kelbee said, “I saw the report.”
Did you now?
“Having to shoot the pirate like that – it must have been horrible. I have a young friend who joined the merc outfit and was totally traumatised by the experience.” He seemed genuinely upset. Not that it was easy to tell. I was finding him very difficult to read, though I wasn’t at my shiny best, just then. “Tell me, are you having nightmares or flashbacks? There’s meds for such problems, you know.”
“Oh no, it’s not that,” I blurted. “The scumsac deserved to die. He was lucky I finished him off so cleanly.”
“I see.” He stared at me for a long minute, before starting to consume his soup with precise, graceful movements.
Don’t be denser than a black hole, Lizzy! If he wants to peg you as some wafting female scared of a bit of blood, go with it why don’t you?
I hastily amended, “That’s what I keep telling myself, anyhow. I’m sure the General would want me to be brave.” I put my spoon down, unable to talk and cope with the soup without dribbling it down my chin, having a strong hunch Kelbee would probably be disgusted with poor table manners.
He raised his eyebrows. “Is the soup not to your liking, my dear?”
“It’s…” Pulped planets, why has he got such a kind voice? Despite the fact I knew it was a sleazy pretence, I still wanted to confide in him… to weep with the misery of losing my ambition… to have him continue murmuring soothing kindnesses at me. “I-I’m not very hungry.” I tried for a smile.
“Lizbeth! You’re not eating the soup!” the General was scowling.
Dinnertable chatter muted to loud silence.
“I had a snack while getting ready this evening, so I’m not hungry,” I lied.
“You and Rick are very chatty.” His glower didn’t lift.
You’re curious about our conversation and a bit jealous. Relief rolled through me that even though he was the most dangerous man I’d ever known, leastways I understood what ran him. If he was as opaque as Kelbee, life with him would be a full-on nightmare.
I grinned at him properly for the first time since I arrived back in Restormel. “It’s what we do at dinner, Father. We chat. That’s what you’ve taught me, isn’t it?”
His smile was like the sun coming out. “Of course it is, sweetheart.”
The atmosphere visibly lightened as the waiting staff hastened to clear away the soup bowls and serve large slabs of real meat coated in a rich sauce garnished with a few bits of salad. No doubt about it, Norman was a carnivore.
Kelbee delicately carved out a small square of steak. “I understand you worked in Procurement when serving on your stepfather’s trading vessel.”
It sounded weird, hearing the Cap being called my stepfather – I tended to think of him as a murdering scumsac. “That’s right, Mr Kelbee.”
His voice was heavy with sincerity. “Please, my dear, call me Rick and save Mr Kelbee for the formality of the office.” He paused, putting down his cutlery and looking serious. “I understand that William has already approached you about this matter, but I’d be delighted you’d consider taking a staff position in my Department.”
You agree to this thing, you’ll be forever turning your back on a career as a frontline officer, Lizzy. You sure about this?
Thank you for making this a hundred times harder, Jessica!
I raised my voice to drown her out. “Thank you, Rick. I’d like that very much.”
Once Rick announced that I’d agreed to work for him, Norman was delighted. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of loud toasts to my success in Procurement and fulsome compliments from Norman about my fine performance during Officer Training.
George nodded quietly in my direction when no one else was looking, which made the situation slightly less dreadful. Harold Gadenson’s amused smirk had me imagining only too clearly what he was thinking.
Kelbee proposed that I should start work in a week’s time, to give me a chance to properly recover from my Liveaction sortie and prepare for my new role.
To give you an opportunity to cover up all your dirty little scams, more like. I leaned towards him. “May I just come down tomorrow morning for a couple of hours to accustom myself to your whereabouts and – you know – work out the best way of getting there?” Am I overdoing the fuse-brained act?
He seemed to swallow it whole. “Of course, my dear. Tell you what – I’ll send young Bernal to come and collect you. We’ll make it, er, twelve hundred hours and then you can have lunch with us.”
Allowing you a whole morning to hide your worst sins. There was no way to naysay his suggestion without coming across as an insubordinate waste of space, so I could only smile and nod my agreement.
Norman chipped in, “You see? No proning around in bed for my Lizbeth. Such a good girl! Even if she is overfond of her coffee…” He beamed around the table, as if all these people sitting here wanted to listen to yet another pointless detail about me.
Did Elsbeth prone around in bed? I found myself hoping she did.
It was a relief when Norman demanded that I sing for the company at the end of the meal. Leastways during my performance, he couldn’t continue boasting about my every shiny quality.
As I stood up to perform, I recalled my anger when the Cap used to introduce my brothers ahead of me, despite being the eldest. I was often blackly jealous of the attention showered on my brothers by merely being boys. I’m paying for it, now.
When I returned to my seat, after my performance, Rick Kelbee asked, “Have you ever considered taking your singing further?”
“It would be a waste of creds.”
Kelbee’s gaze seemed to bore into my soul, as he took a sip of coffee and made a disgusted face without taking his eyes off me.
That’s a neat trick. Wonder how he does it without pouring his drink down his shirt?
“Elsbeth used to sing. Did you know that?”
I know nothing about her. “No.”
“Oh yes. She had a team of singing coaches and regularly produced holos.” He raised his eyebrows. “What about you? Have you ever put your work out there?”
“No!” I pushed away a sudden memory of Wynn suggesting I produce a holo of my songs to help fund our new life together. “And Elsbeth, was she talented?” In addition to deflecting Kelbee’s nonsense about my singing, I found I really wanted to know more about my mysterious half-sister.
Kelbee’s eyes slid away in recall. “She had her own version of William’s charisma, so you found yourself watching her, anyway. But she wasn’t in your league, that’s for sure.”
“Bet her Daddy didn’t think so. Bet he praised her to the edge of the universe and back.” I gulped down my cooling coffee.
“Hm. He used to talk of Elsbeth’s warbling and though he’d have her sing after the meal, as you’ve done, he sometimes mocked her performance.” Kelbee’s expression was sad, as he added, “More than once she ran from this room in tears.”
Despite the coffee, my mouth dried at the stack of history between these people that I – the outsider – couldn’t begin to penetrate.
*
The following morning when Bernal arrived, I realised I’d already acquired an enemy before even setting foot in Procurement. We descended to the Basement level in space-cold silence and Bernal stiffly ushered me into a travellator seat and chose to sit in the unit behind. The travellator speed-lane scooped up the seats with a juddering thump that had me grabbing the sides in white-knuckled alarm. Bumpy rides had me twitched after the shuttle crash on Ceres, to Jessica’s disgust. Fortunately, the journey didn’t take long.
Bernal leapt from his seat with practised ease. He halted beside the guards, tapping his foot while I took my time getting out. So, you can jump out of a chair. Get over yourself.
After the guards opened the blast-doors to Procurement Admin, however, my hesitation wasn’t about annoying Bernal – it was solid surprise. Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. A corner of the brightly lit space stretching out around me hummed with quiet activity as half a dozen bods were working. But most of the area was deserted. If proof was needed this grand, pentagonal building was far too big for Norman’s needs, then here it was.
“Ah, Elizabeth. Lovely to see you again,” Rick managed to sound completely sincere as he emerged from his office and steered me along an empty corridor to another room.
The sign on the door said it was the Procurement Staff Canteen, but I’m sure the name was Rick’s idea of a joke. It didn’t look like any canteen I’d ever eaten in and with Mum’s lack of cooking skills, I was a veteran of mass-produced meals. It more closely resembled Norman’s ostentatious banqueting room, except the food was tastier and better cooked. The watercress soup; stuffed chicken breasts served on a bed of wilted spinach and spring onions, with crushed sweet potato cakes; followed by a fresh strawberry pavlova still makes my mouth water when thinking about it. Indeed, the food I ate while working in Procurement is among the best I’ve ever tasted. I sometimes still dream about it.
However, for all the excellence of the food, it was a difficult meal. Rick Kelbee was on top form, smoothly talking over any possible conversational gaps left by Bernal’s smouldering silence and my greedy enjoyment of the cuisine. After eating far too much, I was escorted with impeccable courtesy by Rick to his office. The thick carpeting, real wood furniture and paintings on the walls wouldn’t have disgraced Norman’s workspace. In fact, I would’ve bet my last credstack that the exquisite sculpture adorning the rosewood coffee table was an original Corrales.
I found myself sitting on a curvy, three-legged chair moulded in real wood. Devoid of vibro-cushioning or snug-fit options, it wasn’t comfortable. But as I fidgeted, it came to me that the design resembled Lnard’s favourite antique period. Art Deco, or was it Art Nouveau? I was hazy over which was which, just that Lnard drooled over anything resembling these designs, reckoning the period was the pinnacle of the Consumerist Era. He wasn’t the only one – all such stuff was highly collectable. Even if this was just a good copy, it probably cost a lot more than Norman usually allocated for office furnishing. Bet this kind of luxury goes down with George like a cup of cold sick.
“Bernal, a pot of coffee. Oh, and make sure it’s the arabica freshground, if you please,” said Rick.
Lnard calls arabica coffee beans brown gold.
“The building is a wonderful piece of architecture, is it not? No wonder your father chose the name Restormel for such an amazing place. I’ve made it my business to delve into its history. Did you know that there was an identical building on Earth? They called it the Pentagon…” Whatever his talents in Procurement, Rick Kelbee’s ability with small talk was
impressive.
But once Bernal brought the coffee in, I found it difficult to concentrate on Rick’s commentary. The large bowl-shaped cup was awkward to hold as there were no elbow rests on this oh-so-expensive chair. Neither could I see a side-table option. But when I sipped the beautifully smooth liquid, I found I didn’t really care.
On our way out of Procurement, Bernal indicated my allocated workstation. While it wasn’t on the outer edges of the occupied space, I noticed several empty workstations much closer to Kelbee’s office and Bernal’s desk.
I’d half expected him to introduce me to the rest of the staff, but with a face darker than a black hole, he strode towards the blast doors without bothering to see if I was keeping up. As I clambered back into the travellator, I realised my ploy to wrong-foot Rick Kelbee had failed. All I’d discovered was that he was an excellent host and I really liked the taste of fresh strawberries and arabica coffee.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wandering around my new quarters, I realised there was sufficient floorspace for a BalanceJoust fight-pad. They do a domestic model, don’t they? Maybe I’ll mention it to the General. He’s always asking if I want anything. It’ll stop two air leaks with one patch. I’ll be able to work out whenever I want, otherwise I’ll probably end up the size of an asteroid if lunches like the one I’ve just eaten are part of my new routine. And a BalanceJoust will make it homelier. Star has cargoholds with less free space.
However, my room wasn’t so emptily tidy some four hours later, after Norman arrived with a trolleybot laden with dresses – proper ballgowns, evidently from the same place as the burgundy creation I’d been given the night of Norman’s homecoming. The colours were stunning in every sense of the word. The fluorescent yellow number, trimmed with blue and silver, could’ve doubled as a stellar beacon. Each one was carefully swathed in Dustpruf and came complete with wig, matching jewellery and shoes, which now fitted.
