by S. J. Higbee
DYING FOR SPACE
SUNBLINDED: BOOK TWO
by
S. J. Higbee
Griffinwing Publishing
Published by Griffinwing Publishing
Copyright © 2017 S. J. Higbee
Sarah Jane Higbee asserts her moral right to be identified as the author of this book.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.
All characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-911139-04-1
Cover art by
Janet Sked
Griffinwing Publishing
www.sjhigbee.com
For Mhairi,
For your friendship and support –
this would be so much harder without you.
CHAPTER ONE
I didn’t enjoy that run at the best of times, but the spiteful easterly blowing the rain sideways made David’s broke-bot pace utter misery. Yellow Group’s tail-ender was steadily catching up. And if she did overhaul us, then Red Group – our team – would slide from second spot down to third.
Which absolutely mustn’t happen.
David was wheezing as he slipped on the muddy path in front of me and staggered drunkenly into the water. By rights he should’ve been in sick bay, but he didn’t want to let Red Group down.
Romeo, running at David’s shoulder, grabbed his arm. “No worries, pal. One foot in front of the other. Nearly there.”
On his other side, Irena danced on the spot, looking as fresh as when we’d set off. “That’s it. Keep going.”
I’d stationed myself behind him so if David collapsed, I could scoop him up before he hit the water. I gritted my teeth as our dawdling pace gave the icy water plenty of opportunity to plaster my pants to my legs and seep into my boots. Left to myself, I’d have blasted through the river, giving me a run at the muddy incline on the other side. But David had more chance of flapping his arms and flying up the hill than taking it at any kind of speed.
I reckon Sarge should’ve let him off this one, but Sarge didn’t do reasonable. This run was his idea of a relaxing end to a day that had started before dawn.
Halfway across the stream David stopped, all but hacking up his lungs. Allowing Raquel from the Yellows to finally stumble past us.
Romeo looked around, flexed his shoulders before turning back to David—
“Cadet Dain! You hoist your team-mate over your shoulder, you’ll be up on a charge. After carrying him up and down the hill for the next hour!” Sarge bellowed through my eardrop, as Romeo winced.
“Yes, Sarge!” called Romeo.
We all straightened to attention. Except David, still bent double and coughing into his hands.
“Cadet Freeman, you better take yourself off to sickbay and get that tickle in your throat seen to. Seeing as you can’t be bothered to finish,” snapped Sergeant Gently. “Which will cost Red Group three demerits.”
Three! That’ll put the Reds back into the middle of the Leaderboard. And we’ve sweated blood to get ourselves in the running for the Shield.
“Yes S-Sarge...” David wheezed. He turned to us, trying to apologise, still coughing.
I gave him a gentle push towards the bank. “Go. Talk tomorrow.” Straightening to attention again, I hollered into the drenching wind, “Permission to speak, Sarge!”
“What is it, Cadet?” he sounded tetchy in my ear.
“If the rest of us run the course a second time, could we nix those demerits, Sarge?”
The pause dragged on a long light year before he finally responded, “Seems like a reasonable deal to me, Cadet.” He never called me Norman, I noticed. “Whether your team-mates are up for it is another matter. Maybe you should’ve consulted them, first.”
“If Cadet Norman hadn’t suggested it, I was gonna, Sarge,” called Romeo.
“And me, Sarge,” added Irena.
My heart swelled at their support. This was the life I’d wanted ever since listening to Mum’s tales as an officer with Norman’s mercs. Don’t even know where she is, these days. Or the boys. I swallowed, pushing away memories of my lost family. Just now, I had more pressing concerns. Like getting around this course before I turned into an icicle. Like trying to keep Red Group in second spot.
The Sarge sounded even sourer than usual. “Just don’t take all night about it. I’ve better things to do than nannying you losers.”
“Yessarge!” we chorused.
“You heard the man.” Irena started running on the spot, doing warm-ups.
The three of us stretched it out, running shoulder to shoulder. The hill – normally a looming misery when shepherding David – seemed almost flat as we charged up it at a steady jog. Back down the other side and instead of turning right, we swung round to the left and back into the woods to start the second lap. After crawling through the tunnel, I was properly warm despite being soaked to the skin and in no time flat we arrived at the scramble-nets. Gritting my teeth, I realised that coaxing David over normally took my mind off just how high I was climbing. Jumping back down, I landed awkwardly.
Judging by the spring in her step as she performed a textbook landing, Irena was still full of energy.
“Go on,” I gasped, as the planet seemed to gain a couple of gravity points. “Find out how fast you can go. I’ll be fine. No risk of not finishing. Just slower, is all.”
Still bouncing about like a combat avatar, Irena frowned. “For sure?”
“Go on.” I waved her away. “Watching you is making me dizzy.”
“See you, then,” she called over her shoulder, accelerating away into the gloom.
I gritted my teeth and put my head down. Then realised that Romeo was still squelching alongside in the growing darkness. “Not going ahead with Irena?”
“Nah. Figured maybe you might be up for a stop to get nekkid in the bushes.” Romeo winked at me.
I grinned in the gloom, aware that if I agreed, he’d be up for it, despite the rain and freezing temp. He was nicknamed Romeo for a solid reason. Not that I wanted to, as the man who’d revved my engines was dead and gone. Romeo’s steady pace beside me didn’t vary as we followed the narrower track snaking back down towards the river. From here, the going got really muddy.
“What about the Sarge?”
His head snapped around. “A threesome? That’s a peaking idea. But don’t reckon the Sarge—”
“No, you fuse-brain! He’d get a ringside seat – every inch of this ground is monitored.”
“Later, maybe?”
I shook my head.
“Ah, well. No harm in asking, again. As you’ve hit something of a dry spell…” Romeo’s persistence never wavered in the face of my many refusals.
“Thanks for the thought but I’ll cope.”
“If Mr Airhose can’t jack into your sweet little pac, maybe we should pick up the pace. Get warm and dry, eh?”
He’s outrageous! But I was too breathless to do more than roll my eyes at such a typical Romeo remark, before accelerating to catch him up.
Concentrating on crossing the river and slogging back up the hill, which had grown steeper since the last time around, I got to the top and looked across the rain-smudged landscape. From here was an uninterrupted view of the Peace and Prosperity HQ. Built by Soweto Services before General Norman got his hands on it, his famous base, Restormel, looked beautiful bathed in the Earth-blue floodlighting glowing through the rain. Not that I was wafting around admiring the view in this vile weather.
Once we’d completed the course, we had to wait for Sergeant Gently’s grumpy vocal clearan
ce before the guards checked us through the first perimeter. Then it was the usual routine; hand print, voice-check, retina and spit scan before we trudged along the paths to our Corps entrance, wet and muddy. The guards weren’t paying attention, though, busy chattering on their coms and clearly buzzed about something. Come to think of it, everyone was rushing around…
“What’s going on?” I swiped my muddy hand across my drenched jogging pants before pressing the palm scanner.
One of the guards finally turned to us. “The General is back! Landed less than half an hour ago with some guests.”
He’d been gone for nearly a year, engaged in dislodging a rival mercenary band from the planet Ceres. Last time I’d heard from him, he was expecting to be there at least till mid-summer.
I pasted a smile across my face, before someone noticed I was as happy as a butterfly in a black hole. “That’s stimming news!”
Romeo grinned at me. “I’m gonna catch me a shower. ’Less you want me to scrub you clean?”
“Nah. I’ll manage.” I couldn’t even summon up an eyeroll, too busy struggling to absorb the news of Norman’s arrival.
*
Irena perched on the bench, while I pulled my body vest over my head after a hurried shower. “There’s a Priority Incoming on your eardrop. Which you left on your bunk. Again.”
Don’t let it be Norman. “I’ll be along directly. You don’t have to wait.” I hauled on my jacket, hoping she’d take the hint and give me some free air.
But Irena didn’t do subtle. “It’s probably Him. You better hurry. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Wriggling into my combat pants, I hunted for my boots. “I know.”
“Your other boot is here. Better pick up the pace, somewhat.” She handed it to me.
“Thank you.” My fingers were trembling as I fumbled with the easi-snug catch.
“You’re not even the littlest bit excited about seeing Him, are you?” her voice was accusing as we marched out of the changing rooms, through the scanner and down the corridor. Irena had qualified for Officer Training after serving in Norman’s merc force since she was sixteen. To her, he was one step up from God.
“Yeah, ʼcourse I am,” I lied. “But I’m still chewing mud after that run. And I’ve got my kit to sort for tomorrow’s inspection.”
Her snort was derisive. “If you reckon Sarge is gonna flush you outta the Corps just cos your buttons need polishing, you been proning around the fifth dimension.”
“And if you think Norman is gonna pat me on the head and say, ‘No worries,’ when the Sarge tells him that I’m a mucky loser cos my gear is blixed, then you’re the one in the wrong dimension!”
Irena scowled, before storming off ahead.
Need to calm down – not Irena’s fault that I don’t know how to cope with Norman. I jogged up alongside her. “Sorry. I’m a bit knocked out’ve orbit at his turning up before I’ve managed to prove myself.”
She stopped. “That’s what’s twitching you, is it? You’re scared he’ll think you’re not good enough.”
“Yeah.” I was scared, alright.
His wife, pregnant daughter and son-in-law had died in a shuttle crash nearly two years ago. I, the bastard daughter he’d never acknowledged till ten months ago, was their replacement. A big ask for a skinny girl with a talent for annoying authority figures. And Norman hadn’t become the most powerful mercenary warlord in Sector Two by being brimful of patient understanding. Not just scared – I’m terrified. Which is seriously bad around Norman, whose talent for sniffing out fear is as sharp as a shark’s for scenting blood.
Before we even filed through the scanner, I could hear my eardrop’s beeping alarm. As I entered our room, everyone turned toward me. “Sorry for the noise, ladies,” I raised my voice over the piercing note, fumbling for Mute mode. Silence blanketed the room as I hastily fitted the device into my ear with everyone’s attention still stapled onto me. Expecting the usual smart-mouthed responses, this wide-eyed stillness from everyone was unnerving. And they were no longer looking at me, were they? They were focused on something behind me.
I swung round.
Straight into the arms of Norman, who enfolded me in a crushing embrace that smelt of cigars and his soap. “Lizzy, my darling girl!” his voice rumbled through the rough fabric of his uniform grazing my face.
I hugged him back, glad of a few seconds to recover. Norman’s huge presence always left me panting for air.
“Mother Earth – but I’ve missed you!” Continuing to grip my shoulders, his eyes were wet while he was laughing and shaking his head.
“Hi, General Big Bear…” Is that alright? Do I seem cold and uncaring? Or too afraid?
His rumbling laughter boomed off the walls as he swung me round like a small kid. I laughed back, relieved that I’d got it right after all.
His arm still around me, he beamed at the shock-struck girls scattered around the long, narrow dormitory. “A thousand pardons for having crashed in upon your privacy, ladies.” His grin was confiding. “But this soft old father couldn’t wait another minute longer to see his daughter.”
His eyes stroked me as he squeezed my shoulder. “Would you introduce me, sweetheart? I would dearly like to meet your training companions.”
“Of course, Father.” The title fell off my tongue, unfamiliar and odd.
Irena didn’t genuflect but it was close, as he recalled her father’s name and asked after him. Norman was in major charm mode as he asked each girl questions about their training and listened as if their responses really mattered to him.
Is this all a big act? Like the time he insisted I sit next to him during a formal meal, talking to me in just the same way. Before forcing me to disrespect my captain and father in front of everyone. I bit my lip at the recollection.
As if he registered my mood change Norman suddenly turned to me, his hand clutching my shoulder painfully. “I have some important guests, sweetheart. And during the tedious journey back home, they have heard far too much about my beautiful daughter. So I’d like you to attend the banquet, tonight. If that isn’t too much trouble?”
Oh, Holed Heavens! I knew better than to say it aloud. “Of course, F-Father.” Need to work on that. He won’t like me stammering in front of his grand guests. My palms greased at the very thought.
He spun round, heading for the door.
Irena caught my eye and frantically mouthed something I couldn’t catch. She was miming a woman’s curving body, when he swung back. “I nearly forgot—”
Irena, in mid-gesture, reddened.
Norman dropped his friendliness in an eyeblink. “And what – exactly – are you doing, Cadet?”
“Sorry, General...” Irena faltered, “I was trying to remind Elizabeth to ask you... about... wh-what she should wear. Whether it was dress uniform, or- or...”
“Ah, a very good question.” His smile flicked back in place as he clicked his fingers and an aide appeared from outside the door carrying a large, wrapped box, marched up to me and presented it with a little bow.
I stared down at the box conscious of everyone’s pent attention.
Norman said, “Open it, why don’t you?”
I started teasing at the brightly coloured parch. Although the wrapping-parch looked to be in one piece, it came off the box in sections before morphing into pre-folded origami figures.
“You used to collect these, did you not? I remember you never managed to get the complete family,” he murmured.
The parch sprang into a baby in my hand. Blinking rapidly, I continued to carefully pull the parch sections free until all ten members of the origami family were scattered over my bed. I arranged them in a circle together – something the seven-year-old me had prayed for, nightly.
Till my brother, Eddy, got hold of the five I’d collected.
I didn’t know that Norman was aware of my collection. Though he was the one who gave me the last two figures, wasn’t he? I’d forgotten that.
&n
bsp; He leaned forward and pulled the lid off the box.
“Oh...” my gasp was echoed by the other girls as they edged forward, greedy for a closer look.
It was a dress. Pleats, folds and swathes of rich, plum-coloured material billowed in the box. Even a nix-trender like me knew a wonderful garment when I saw it. Twitching it free of the flims-wrap, I swung it through the air. Rustling expensively, it flowed into a long swirling skirt and artfully cut folds that promised to hug and flatter the figure. Everyone was transfixed. I sucked up their stunned admiration for a long, warm moment…
“Mother Earth above...”
“What a dress!”
“It’s peaking…”
After carefully laying it back in the box, I launched myself at the man responsible for this wonder. “Thank you! For this wonderful dress…” I hugged him, muttering into his chest, “and the origami family. You remembered. Thank you for that most of all.”
His beaming grin lit the room as he gazed down on me. “It’s nothing. A small token to show my love for you.”
He went to the trouble of finding this beautiful dress. And the parch family. Just for me! I’m a fuse-brain for worrying so. I wish to be his loving daughter, and he is my Big General Bear who wants to spoil me a little. We’re going to be just fine, he and I. We really are.
CHAPTER TWO
Norman produced yet another box of ‘bits you might need, Lizbeth’ containing matching high-heeled shoes – half a size too small – and a trendedge wig of piled, dark hair cascading with ringlets.
“Thank you, Father…” Chilly realisation slithered up my spine. I can’t just fling on this purple creation and set off for the meal, can I?
“My pleasure, darling girl. Oh – and make sure you’re in the Banqueting Hall by 2000 hrs, sharp.” With that command ringing round the room, he left.
“What’m I gonna do?” I whimpered to the room.
Norman clearly expected a vision of loveliness at his banquet. Pointless to pretend I was up to producing said vision. By now we all knew who had the best taste in clothes and make-up and who didn’t, so it was no secret that I was only on nodding terms with the occasional swipe of lipstick.
