Dying For Space

by S. J. Higbee

  But the General’s bearhug and initial grin soon turned to scowling moodiness after I tried on the luminous pink number at his urging. Cut on the bias, it clung to curves I didn’t have, with a plunging neckline which only too clearly revealed my non-existent cleavage.

  Puffing on one of his stinking cigars, he growled, “You’re too skinny, that’s the trouble.” He bellowed down his eardrop. “Fina! Yes, sweetheart. And I’m sorry for that. But I need you. In little Lizbeth’s room. Now.”

  “I’m looking forward to starting in Procurement,” I offered as he started pacing and muttering under his breath.

  His sudden smile was a relief. “You are such a good girl. Don’t you fret yourself about this glitch. We’ll get some flesh on those bones in no time flat.”

  I’m already heavier than I’ve ever been, so how much fatter will I have to be before he stops nagging me about my weight?

  Fina swept into the room, looking elegantly beautiful in a pale green silk negligee, trimmed with cream lace. Next to her, I felt like some simclown. She evidently thought so, too as she actually huffed in exasperation at him. “Oh, William! What did I tell you? These dresses simply don’t suit her. Why are you putting her through this?”

  “I didn’t call you in here to be nagged at, woman! I need your input on how we fix this.”

  Fina’s shrug was small.

  But Norman’s reaction wasn’t. “I’ve told you before, you up-swept piece, don’t you go looking down your haughty nose at me!”

  I froze, keeping my breathing shallow, a tactic I’d perfected when my parents fought.

  “It’s always the same. I come to you for help – and what do I get?” Norman’s bellow crashed around me, “Your prodding contempt! You high and mighty bitch!”

  Fina flicked an apologetic look in my direction, before spinning round and leaving with a silk swish and a waft of scent.

  Norman’s eyes bulged as he bawled curses after her, spittle flying from his mouth.

  I stared down at the carpet, wishing I had sufficient courage to race for the door and escape with her.

  “Lizbeth?” his voice dropped to a rumble. “Don’t look like that, sweetheart. I only want the best for you.” He engulfed me in one of his big hugs, then tilted my face up towards his burning gaze. “Now, are we prone – you and me?”

  “Of course.” I attempted a smile.

  “Don’t you worry about these dresses. We’ll get you fixed up, so that you look beautiful in them.” He was suddenly all business again as he made for the door.

  As it hissed shut behind him, I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror, wondering what ‘fixed up’ meant. Because I couldn’t see any way this dress was going to suit, short of me undergoing a major body sculpt, which I fiercely didn’t want.

  But if Norman demands you go through the procedure, what will you do, then?

  Seal it shut, why don’t you? I snarled at Jessica, as I ripped the flooding dress off and flung it on the floor.

  *

  “If you can be bothered to stir yourself, my dear. But you’ve gotten used to all of this, haven’t you?” Norman eyes glittered with malice as he leaned across the table towards Fina. “A long way from the putrid fleshpit where you were earning your keep on your back, isn’t it?”

  Silence screamed around the room as everyone bent over their plates. I looked at her beautiful, still figure exquisite in the dramatic evening gown she was wearing. Then back to Norman, whose face was twisted in a spiteful sneer.

  Doesn’t matter where he found her – she’s still worth ten of him. I put down my cutlery, tired of trying to pretend an appetite I didn’t have.

  “Lizbeth! You’re not eating.”

  “Forgive me, Father, but I’m not hungry.”

  Norman swung back to Fina with terrifying ferocity. “You see? This is your doing, you jealous hag…” He continued bawling foul insults at her, while Fina sat motionless, head bowed.

  You going to just sit there, Lizzy, while that bloated bully goes on abusing her?

  I drew breath to protest that Norman was being unfair. To ask him to consider that he’d asked Fina for help and that all she’d done was give her honest opinion…

  A hand gripped my right elbow. Rick Kelbee’s habitual grin was gone. I noticed his eyes were deep blue – like Wynn’s, but darker. His headshake was barely perceptible. “You’ll only make it worse for her,” he breathed.

  I wasn’t the only one who found Norman’s behaviour disgraceful. David’s expression was clenched and suffering as he darted flickering looks of apology in Fina’s direction. Coming from one of the more traditional English families, David would’ve been raised to honour and protect his womenfolk. Besides, he – along with most of the young men surrounding Norman – was more than half in love with Fina.

  It didn’t make for happy dining. I was cravenly grateful for the new dresses I’d bought in the mall with her, so I was able to wear something that wouldn’t spark yet another of Norman’s tantrums over my appearance. I was also thankful for Rick Kelbee’s ability to chatter amusingly, apparently oblivious to the poisonous atmosphere. And that he’d insisted on partnering me.

  By the time we rose from the table, I was also shakily grateful that I hadn’t been asked to sing and fled back to my room, where I locked my door. Though I was bleakly aware that if Norman wanted to enter, I had no way of preventing him. Sleep was a long time coming.

  *

  The following morning, I held Romeo’s hand, now pitifully soft and pale. “I’m going to be working in Procurement, starting next week. Alongside all the other button-jabbers.”

  He continued lying still, eyes shut, while the pump ticked as it steadily pushed blood around his prone body. I cast about for something else to say. Trying not to think about another beautiful man lying pale and still…

  The door hissed open to reveal David. On seeing me, he hesitated. I gestured for him to approach, relieved at the distraction.

  “Hallo, Elizabeth. No improvement yet.” David nodded at Romeo, while punching up a holocard on the already crowded wallboard alongside his bed.

  “Day off?” Not that I really cared one way or the other. It was just something to say.

  “Not a minute too soon.” David kicked moodily at a scuffmark on the gleaming floor.

  Shocked at his indiscretion, I jabbed his arm, looking towards the monitor, while loudly adding, “Any plans?”

  “Don’t be so paranoid. That monitor is just to make sure Romeo is alright.” His mouth twisted. “Anyway, Himself will be too busy this morning to bother with the likes of us. Word is, he and Fina are kissing and making up.” The savage misery on his face was hurtful to see. Even if David wasn’t my favourite person, he was still a team-mate.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He flicked away my consoling hand. “Don’t know how much more of this dross I can take.”

  My mouth dried. “Hold on, David! Just for a year or so. Then put in for a Transfer, if you must.” I whispered in a breathy gabble, “No one leaves Norman’s personal staff without him suggesting it. Not if they want to stay upright and breathing. Please. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “And sometimes staying around isn’t good for your health, either.” He jerked his head at Romeo. “Heard the rumour-wriggle?”

  I shrugged, hoping to give the impression the subject bored me.

  “It’s an FF, right?”

  “Yeah.” No more, David. Please…

  “Except no Friendly Fire Hearing in this case.”

  What! “But surely they know who pulled the trigger?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Romeo must have cozied up to somebody’s wife and her furious, high-up husband decided to get his revenge. “Oh, Romeo, you fool,” I breathed, looking down at the still figure on the bed, as the blue powder slowly writhed in his chest.

  When I looked up again, David was gone.

  I spent the rest of the day in my room, wading through weapons and
equipment lists. Which wasn’t as bad as it sounds, given that immersing myself in such details was a welcome escape from the dross surrounding me.

  *

  Fina had her head on one side, looking at my reflection and trying to decide what to do with the mess of pleats sagging around my midriff. I watched the expressions shift across her face, her green eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed, fascinated by her beauty. She was like some fairy queen. “What do you think, Tabytha? Reckon this one is a non-starter. It doesn’t remotely fit her and that colour – swear I’m going sunblinded.”

  It wasn’t that funny. But Tabytha, Fina’s seamstress, and me were helpless with drink-fuelled laughter as Fina started undoing the fastenings.

  “Sorry!” gasped Tabytha, tears pouring down her cheeks. “That yellow is a real shuttle-stopper.”

  Which had me struggling not to choke on the chocolate I’d just popped into my mouth.

  When she’d arrived for the grand try-on, trundling behind Fina was a trolleybot full of canapés, chocolates and champagne. It probably wasn’t the best drink for the middle of the day, as Tabytha had even less of a head for champagne than Aunty Sosha. But, of course, it was a typically Fina-inspired genius idea. After all the tension the General had created around these wretched dresses, it would’ve been a dire task to undertake space-cold sober. And all these years later, whenever I recall that mad day it still makes me grin. As well as being beautiful and clever, Fina had a knack of turning the boring and everyday into fun. Small wonder Norman had snagged her for his own. That man always had an eye for the best.

  Once I’d stumbled free of the glowing yellow froth of pleats, Fina tossed it onto the largest mound – the pile of gowns we’d decided were unwearable. The next stack was those garments that Tabytha reckoned she could take apart and remodel to suit me. And the smallest heap held those dresses only needing a few minor alterations.

  I hauled on the next creation – a more restrained affair in a deep purple, edged with gold. The cut was simple, with the gown fell in billowing folds from the bust. The catch was, of course, that the girl wearing this thing had to have something in the bust department for it to hang properly.

  Tabytha rootled in her flyer-sized bag and came out with a box. Mumbling apologies, she opened it up. Inside was a pair of topline breast-boosters. Once I popped them down the front of the dress, the difference was impressive. They moulded themselves around my own small offerings and blended with my skin-tone. When I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t tell them from the real thing and the dress suddenly looked special.

  Tabytha fidgeted when she mentioned an eye-watering price, adding that they were the latest thing in ani-modelling. Fina waved away the cost as if it was nothing. I’m afraid to say after that, things degenerated into major silliness. I blame the champagne. When the two-tone chimed, I was trying to balance one breast-booster on my nose while wearing the other on my head. Fina was rocking with laughter and mopping her eyes with a lacy nosewipe, as Tabytha slid onto the floor and squealed for me to stop before she ruptured something.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” Norman’s voice boomed into the room, cutting through our hysteria like a lazar slicing through spongeweed. “Can a grumpy old General Bear please come in for a nanosec?”

  I scrambled to hide the breasts, while Fina winked at me and answered, “Oh yes. But he mustn’t be grumpy today, or he can’t have any chocolate or champagne.”

  I held my breath. But as the door slid open and Norman strode into the room, his face was split into a beaming grin. Trailing behind him were two of his aides, one being David, laden with parch-wrapped packages.

  As Norman’s arm closed around Fina’s waist, dragging her towards him for an indecently long kiss, I saw David’s face spasm.

  It seemed a light year before they finally came up for air.

  “For that, General Bear, you can have a chocolate.” Laughing up at him, Fina popped a sweet into his mouth. As if everything was fine. As if he’d never screamed abuse in her face just a couple of days earlier.

  Maybe it’s the champagne. Or maybe she loves him enough to overlook his rages. I shivered, wondering how long I’d have to live alongside him before I could cope with his vile temper in the same way.

  “This General Bear comes bearing gifts for my bevy of beauties.” Norman bowed at us, so a now-upright but swaying Tabytha turned a hectic shade of red and giggled into her hands.

  “I hear that you ladies are working hard at turning my favourite cygnet into a beautiful swan. So…” Turning towards the aides, he presented us each with a big box. Also, with another sweeping bow, he gave Tabytha a smaller version, “For you, Miss Starseeker, with my humble gratitude for all your hard work.”

  “Oh… General…” Tabytha fluttered like Aunty Sosha as she fumbled with the ribbons and parch.

  “Lizbeth. You opening your gift anytime soon?” he prompted.

  I giggled as the ribbons tangled in my efforts to unwrap the present. Inside the box was a vivi-bear, who grinned, growled, walked and talked. Like the other two gifts. Exclaiming over their cleverness, we watched the bears march around the room, jerkily avoiding the dress mountains. And when the three of them started singing ‘The Teddy Bears’ Picnic’ together, we all applauded.

  He might not say it, but he’s truly sorry that he caused all that upset. And this is his way of making it alright. I felt an uprush of affection for him. The Cap never apologised, either. But mega-difference was that he never acted as if he was sorry. Running to Norman, I flung my arms around his neck and kissed his bristled cheek. “Thank you, Father. I’m going to call my bear, General.”

  Yeah. I know. Very soppy. But please remember that I was half-drunk at the time. And so very relieved that everyone around me was laughing and happy.

  I even believed it could stay that way.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lester stared down from the staging with wide eyes, clinging onto the doctor.

  The medic extended her other hand, pasting a grin onto her face, “Good morning, Miss Norman. Thank you for agreeing to this rehearsal.”

  “No problem.” I knelt at Leyster’s level. “Hallo sweet.”

  While he was clean and the cuts had healed, little Lester seemed just as stressed as the day we’d rescued him from the slimers who’d tortured and killed his family.

  The medic’s glance at the boy was worried. “I understand General Norman’s reasons for making this a high profile occasion, but it isn’t the best thing for Lester.”

  I bit my lip. “I did try to persuade him not to do this.”

  Ha! Is that what you call it? Jessica mimicry was savage. “Don’t you think it’d be better for the poor little scrap if we turned him over to his aunt and uncle in private, Father?”

  And when General Grumpy rumbled on about not being able to miss opportunities to make the journos eat their vile, lying words about the Pees, you didn’t exactly wear your mouth out on the fact that a little boy is being traumatised in the middle of this publicity circus. Did you?

  I winced at her scathing tone and tried to put it right. Making eye contact with the child, I gestured at the workers putting out chairs, running through lighting and wallvu cues. They all seemed to be making enough noise to wake the dead. Except for Jessica, of course, who doesn’t ever stay decently quiet.

  “These folks won’t be crashing around and shouting to each other, tonight. It’ll be dark down there and lots of people will be sitting in the chairs…” I was wasting my breath. Lester was too frightened to take this in. Recalling Luke, I had an idea. “Want to meet my friend, Fingers? But, he gets very shy. Promise you won’t scare him?”

  Lester stirred slightly. His huge eyes flickered.

  Folding a nosewipe around my hand behind my back, I brought it forward, “Fingers, this is Lester. Say hallo. No? Why not? Because you’re shy? Lester won’t hurt you. Come on. Just say, hallo…”

  By the time Fingers had finished, Lester was talking back. Not exactly chat
tering his head off, but admitting that he, too, was a bit scared. And he seemed to be listening when Fingers promised that no one would hurt him and that he was going to be famous, with his pic all over the journos. Which was where we left it when the doctor led him away to have some lunch, muttering that he still wasn’t eating enough.

  *

  I hadn’t realised the firefight with the pirates had been recorded. That evening, it didn’t make for comfortable viewing, sitting up there on the stage in front of an audience while I watched myself weave and dodge the short distance to pick up a screaming Lester. Pulped planets – is that all? I thought I’d run at least the length of a bullring…

  Lester’s hand started trembling in mine as on the film, his high voice could be heard calling for his Mum. Inwardly cursing Norman for omitting to mention this vid when fast-talking me into participating in this publicity stunt, I lifted Lester onto my knee and produced Fingers.

  Lester wasn’t the only one who’d called out in the middle of all the chaos, weapons’ fire and emotion. “Luke! Sweetheart, don’t you worry. It’s solid, Lizzy’s here,” my voice crooned to the terrified child on the vid.

  But it isn’t solid. It’ll never be solid. Lester wasn’t screaming for me. He wanted his dead Mum. And it isn’t solid for Luke, either. Because he’s somewhere on Earth and I’ll never… Fingers decided to be very cheeky, spending the rest of the vid tickling Lester, while I tried to control him. Leastways Fingers stopped both of us watching the wretched vid. The bonus was the child giggled once or twice at my efforts. After the vid was over, Lester’s aunt and uncle were escorted onto the stage.

  “Mum?” Lester’s incredulous look of longing was enough to make stones weep.

  His aunt scooped him up. “Hallo sweeting. Oh, don’t you look like her?” She hugged him to her as if she never wanted to let him go, while Lester put his arms around her neck, and relaxed, clearly boneless with relief that he’d finally found safety.