by S. J. Higbee
Stopping, she slowly shook her head. “It’ll just make him angrier.” Her smile was sad. “Keep safe, sweeting.”
The door swished shut behind her. Shivering, I stumbled across the room, coldly afraid. And did something I hadn’t done since Wynn’s death. I sank to my knees and prayed for her.
I hope that somewhere, Fina is safe and happy.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Once again, I glanced at my reflection, having taken extra care with my make-up and wig and started to work my way across the crowded room towards the door. Then stopped. I realised I could no more sit down at the same table and speak civilly to the bullying slimer than flap my arms and fly. So instead, I sent a short tab pleading a headache and went to bed.
Four hours later, I got up and pulled on my combat fatigues with shaking fingers, memories of Norman’s ferocious expression as he’d backhanded Fina swirling through my head. I needed something to take my mind off this bilge-crud. Before I went star-crazed. At least, there was plenty of work waiting for me. Always. Sitting at Elsbeth’s huge workdesk, I opened my Procurement file and started on the latest list. Half an hour and ten mistakes later I gave up, unable to focus.
Which was when I recalled Fina’s last conversation and it occurred to me that retrieving the thing she’d left me in her nightstand would be a solid move. When I arrived outside Fina’s room, her guards were gone so it was the work of a moment to gain access with a palm scan.
Locking the door after me, I muttered, “Lights on. Sleep mode.” And froze for several long minutes in shock. Even in the muted half-light, I could see that Fina’s beautiful, feminine space had been totally violated. Makeup and perfume were trampled into the lilac carpet, while the canopy surrounding her bed was a blackened, tattered ruin. Someone had used it as target practise.
Norman, of course. My mouth tasted bitter with fear and disgust. Her clothes had been hauled out of drawers and cupboards and ripped apart – mostly her underwear, I noticed.
That’s unlucky… I recall thinking, stepping over shards of mirrored glass littering the floor. The full-length curtains were the only things intact in the whole room. Their pristine state made the destruction seem worse. My fingers wound knots in the seams of my combat pants.
So even while he was smashing everything up, he must’ve realised that ripping the curtains down could be seen from outside. From the point of view of the P’s, I supposed the fact he was still thinking like a leader was a plus. But the calculated nature of this outburst had my skin crawling. I shivered, recalling Fina’s belief that he wouldn’t send anyone after her. Looking around, I wasn’t so sure.
Scrunching across the wrecked carpet while trying not to cough at the eye-watering mix of perfume and scorched material, I blinked away tears and made for her bedside cabinet. The drawers had been wrenched open and their auto-close option smashed. Their contents had been flung around the floor or scattered on the bed. Her collection of regolith glass ornaments had been smashed against the walls. I looked around for whatever it was that Fina had promised me. It had to be important for her to mention it just at that time when her head was full of leaving Norman. But there was nothing in amongst the ripped, shattered remains that looked like it was meant for me.
Leave it, Lizzy. If anyone finds you in here rootling through her things, you’ll be in a world of woe…
I let myself out of Fina’s room, wishing I’d never come and hoping that she fared better than her belongings.
*
Jessica believes in Fate, while I don’t. It’s one of the differences between us that causes so much chafing when sharing the same head-space. But over this business I’ll concede she might have a point.
The morning after Norman’s vandalism, Diana called me into Rick’s office, her brow wrinkled in distress. “I’ve been battling to get this file open, but Rick zipped it shut with a host of security answers and I can’t shake the notion that it’s mega-important. Can you have a go with it, before I turn it over to that uppity scuzzer in Security?”
My heart sinking, I over-enthusiastically nodded and opened my eardrop for the Upload. Once back at my desk, I pinched the bridge of my nose. All my pre-dawn alertness had long since fled, leaving my brain thicker than ʼcycler-soup. It wasn’t the best moment to attempt to out-think one of the smartest people I’d ever met.
But Diana had been wobbling badly the last few days – something along the lines of, “My family are nagging that they never get to see me. There’s no end to all this work. At my time of life, I shouldn’t be putting my career ahead of my children and husband…”
Fervently wishing her selfish husband at the bottom of a supermassive black hole, I’d pointed out that if the P’s folded, he would be jobless with few prospects. That her children would not get the quality of schooling and medical care they now enjoyed and it was also likely her family would lose their home. I’d like to be able to admit I felt guilty as her face paled and her knuckles whitened. But I confess I merely registered relief that she’d finally realised just how high the stakes were and why we were all slogging ourselves into tight-wound shadows of our former selves.
And as she struggled to scramble over Rick’s mental hurdles, it seemed the least I could do was attempt to help whenever possible. Not that I expected to unpick this puzzle anytime soon. Except… I did. As I listened to the list of answers, I realised I knew the questions. And that the file had nothing to do with the P’s.
Glad to be able to reassure Diana, I stuck my head around her open door. “Please, don’t bother with that file, Diana. It’s private. Nothing we need bother about.”
Her smile actually reached her eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Oh, yes.”
She sighed with relief. “Thank Mother Earth we’ve got you alongside, Elizabeth. Don’t know how we’d have gotten through all of this without you.”
“It’s nothing,” I mumbled, knowing they’d have managed just fine. And that it was a chance fluke I’d managed to unlock Rick’s file.
But you’re not going to share that info-nugget with them, are you? Playing the ear-holing mess Elsbeth liked to call music, you came across all these wretched questions and answers as she chattered away like a chem-stimmed DJ between the vile-rave tracks. And that it was pure chance Rick decided to use these info-scraps as the security for this file.
Jessica wasn’t in the shiniest of moods that day. Or most other days, come to think of it.
Just like too many others around here… Norman’s snarl as he struck Fina zipped across my inscape. Gritting my teeth, I refocused on the next request on my ever-growing stack of recs.
When George politely requested my presence, I realised it was mid-afternoon and I’d missed lunch. As I pulled away from the colour-coded lists snaking across my screen, my stomach growled.
He was evidently waiting for me as I was waved straight into his office, only stopping for a quick spit-scan.
“Good afternoon, Elizabeth. You solid?” He looked gaunt against the garish clutter of the images roiling on the wall behind him.
What kind of lame-brained question is that? Of course not. “I’m fine, thank you.”
He picked up a souvenir plaque from the ornaments crowding his desk. “Thought you should know that the General is away for the next few days on a surprise inspection at Venture Base on Cerebus.”
A boulder rolled off my chest, knowing that I wouldn’t be facing him across the dinner table anytime soon. “Oh.” Maybe I looked too relieved.
George frowned slightly
“I hope the visit is a success,” I lied, not hoping anything of the sort. For starters, I didn’t
believe for a nanosec that Norman was on Venture. It was more probable that his yacht was lurking behind some moon while he hauled himself together.
The plaque in George’s hands kept flaring into life, then going dark. “I just wanted to reassure you that these episodes don’t happen often. But you must understand, William has the weight of all of th
is on his shoulders.” He flung his hands wide. As if it was only by Norman’s efforts that we existed.
“Of course. I fully realise that we have to forgive him most anything due to his position of responsibility!” Too late, I realised that my own temper hadn’t cooled in the slightest. I’d just coped with Norman’s attack on Fina by not thinking about it.
I took a breath, trying to haul my anger under control. Not his fault. And it’s shoddy of me to behave as if George and Norman were the same person. My fingers knotted in my lap. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I worry that I’ve inherited too much of my father’s temperament.” I tried for a grin, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat.
But George’s eyes were haunted as he leaned towards me. “For Mother Earth’s sake, keep it holstered around William. He cannot tolerate the women in his life defying him. Especially since Elsbeth…” his voice trailed away.
Silence thickened in the small room as I held my breath, waiting for George to say more. He didn’t. Just swallowed once, as parade-ground blankness dropped across his face like a mask. Avoiding my gaze, he straightened a slab of crystal and a Callistan snow scene. “Tell me, how are things down in Procurement?”
“We’re managing. Just.” I recalled sitting here and listening to Harold Gadenson and Rick another lifetime ago. I’d been thinking my world was coming to an end, because I wasn’t permitted to serve as a front-line officer. Now, further down the line I fervently wished I could travel back to that point in time. Because if I’d known then what I know now, I’d rage and sulk and throw things around until Norman gave in and allowed me to serve alongside the troops. Or request to train as a medi, maybe… Anything to avoid being sucked into this toxic mess.
“Elizabeth, is there a problem?”
“Yes.” I blurted, for a mad nanosec tempted to spill my feelings to him.
Nooo…
I pasted a smile across my face, not needing Jessica’s howl to know that treating George as a trustfast friend wasn’t the way to go. For all his kindness, he always had Norman’s back. And whatever the General was, he was not remotely trustfast – so neither was George.
“Just feel like I’ve been spat out’ve a black hole. It’s been a hard few weeks.”
“I’ve been hearing nothing but good things about you. And can I just say how very grateful we are for all your unstinting effort?” his voice was heavy with sincerity.
But we both know that Norman isn’t feeling a nanospeck of gratitude – he’s still breathing rocket fuel because I sold Elsbeth’s dresses.
“Thank you.”
My next stop had to be to the medicentre. Although I’d asked for immediate notification if Romeo came around, I hadn’t received any further medi-updates on his status, so needed to check up on his progress now that he’d finally received his new heart.
It wasn’t until I saw him still lying on the bed, pale and immobile, that I realised just how much I’d banked on the new heart fixing him. I wasn’t the only one.
His girlie jumped up the minute she caught sight of me. “Hi Elizabeth! It’s so great, isn’t it? To see the improvement in him? The meditech reckons he should pull out’ve the coma within the next day. I got the time off, so I’ll be here the minute he surfaces.”
“That’s great,” I muttered, searching for any sign of this improvement she was babbling about, because hard as I looked, I could see nothing that indicated he was on the verge of regaining consciousness. Suddenly I couldn’t do this anymore. I gave her my holocard. “Can you put that up for me? I… gotta see some patients in a neighbouring ward.”
“Oh, for sure. I’ll let him know when he comes to that you’ve been visiting,” she said, her grin lighting up her face, allowing me to see why he’d soft-talked her into his bed in the first place.
Meantime, I scurried back to the Burns Ward, where there was a new intake of lazar-grazed troops. The latest upload of the Zippo League results and a couple of games I’d prepared for Romeo wouldn’t be wasted. And the patients I’d be visiting with these gifts would be sitting up, able to smile, or scowl… or anything really. Other than lie statue-still, while flooding birds tweeted in the background.
I was right. There were eight newly admitted mercs, all but one confined to bed and bored out’ve their skulls while waiting for the synthskin grafts to bond. All profusely grateful for new dripware and gossip to while away the time. While I escaped the heartbreaking sight of Romeo lying as still and helpless as Wynn that last time I’d seen him…
*
“The scumsac is driving me star-crazed. One minute, he wants me here, hanging off his shoulder and available at all hours of the day and night. And the next, he’s publicly mouthwhacking me for not having a job and – ‘grazing off the blood our boys have shed.’” Elsbeth’s pin-sharp mimicry of Norman had me grinning.
As I’d thought, Rick’s hidden file was all about my dead half-sister. When I got back to Elsbeth’s room, far too wired to settle down to sleep, I started to run through it. Somehow, he’d scooped up her personal journals and the series of answers and questions were the security coding he used to keep them ringfenced. He must’ve realised that listening to her music, I’d eventually stumble across the key. So Rick intended me to see these entries.
The first thing that knocked me out of orbit, was just how similar our voices sounded. For all her slack morals, Elsbeth must’ve been brought up in English surroundings. Under the merc slang, she had all the cadences that brought memories of New London rolling back to engulf me. It was weird to hear someone I’d never met, talking in my voice.
“And when I do try to do something, like working for Rick down in Procurement, he’s constantly crashing in with a face like a black hole. Jabbing at my reading skills. And yet when Mum used to tell him that I needed help, he used to shrug it off. Said I was Daddy Bear’s little cub, cos he’d also found school a sliming waste.” Elsbeth blinked and she swallowed hard. “Back then, he truly loved me…”
Some loose ends clicked into place. Norman’s effusive praise whenever he looked at my school work on his regular visits to my parents, for instance. He was comparing me with Elsbeth, even back then. My skin pimpled. Don’t think he’s ever really loved me for myself. Only ever as a reflection of Elsbeth.
Elsbeth blew her nose. “Prod it! I’m done snivelling over the prodding zilcher. Don’t care, anymore. Why should I? It’s like he’s always comparing me to some shoddy ideal and I come up short. And then, he turns on me like-like he hates me. That’s not love, that’s sodding tyranny, is what that is. When I have children, I’ll just love them for who they are – not what I want them to be, that’s for sure—”
My finger stabbed at the Stop button. It was suddenly too cold in here. I couldn’t seem to stop shivering. What if I hadn’t existed? Would Norman have been content with Elsbeth as she was? My gaze wandered around her room, crammed with her possessions and still smelling of her perfume.
I’ve no business being here… I’d resented this dead half-sister of mine. Hating it when people around me spoke of her with fondness… Feeling a smug stab of satisfaction whenever Norman compared me favourably to her… Whereas, in truth, it should’ve been the other way around. If her dead spirit lingered here at all, she had every right to be furious that I’d slipped into her place.
I looked around. “Sorry, girl. I wished we could’ve met. Talked. Compared our lives. Maybe, been friends…”
Hah – like Daddy Bear would’ve let that happen! He’d have had us at each other’s throats in no time flat…
Chilly ripples crawled up my spine as I froze. “Jessica – that you?”
But there was only the hum of Elsbeth’s workdesk and her scent wafting around the room, as I shut down her journal with trembling fingers.
*
When my door alarm sounded, I rolled out of bed and fumbled for my combats, once more wishing it was Fido waking me up. “Yeah, yeah… I’m on it.”
Chris, the guard outside my door, announced, “Sorry
to disturb you, miss. But word from the medicentre is there’s a critical situation regarding Officer Dain. They’re requesting your immediate presence.”
Which was when I finally registered that it was something after 0300 hrs. “Stat,” I croaked, a blast of adrenaline flushing the sleep-sogginess away, leaving me a lot sharper. And shakily afraid. Because I couldn’t think of a single positive scenario requiring my presence by Romeo’s bedside at this time of night.
Sometimes it’s putrid to be proved right. As I entered Ward 16, I just had to look at the waiting medic’s face to know a pile of bilgescum was about to engulf me.
“Thank you for arriving so promptly, Miss Norman. We got a situation here, unfortunately.” He steered me down the corridor into another room, where another desperately ill man was lying, swathed in synthskin, apart from his chest, where an open wound oozed, covered by the all-too familiar blue powder. “Private Pitt has sustained a potentially fatal injury to his heart. Normally the prognosis would be bleak. But there is a heart that could be available for him and if we transplant it immediately, his chances of recovery are very good. But the heart we’re considering belongs to you, so we need your permission to relocate it.”
I swiped my hands down the sides of my trousers, feeling sick. Wanting this whole vile situation to be some whacked-out dream. “The heart you reckon would help this Private Pitt is the one you put inside Ro- Officer Dain yesterday?”
The sympathy in the medic’s expression made me flinch as he replied, “I’m afraid so. We’ve been carefully monitoring Dain’s progress and while the heart is functioning, the secondary infection isn’t responding to treatment and he is now losing kidney function.”
“What are the chances he could still pull through?”
The medic hesitated. “His team think he probably won’t recover without an immediate full regen.”
Don’t know why you lot ever mention that option, given there isn’t any full regen facilities here on Restormel. “What about Private Pitt? If he doesn’t get this heart now, what are his chances?”
