by S. J. Higbee
I sat up.
The General is capable of wasteful and messy – but not where his family is concerned. Surely?
A thought occurred to me. Elsbeth’s neglected appearance seemed completely out of character, even if she was struggling with her pregnancy. What if she was suicidal?
I recalled Mum’s desperate drinking jags when she was pregnant with the boys. I remembered she’d threatened to kill herself, so she didn’t have to go through the whole business of bringing another baby into the world she couldn’t care for. What if Elsbeth felt the same way? She said she’d rather die, didn’t she? And Norman mentioned she’d been mentally affected by the pregnancy. What if she couldn’t face the prospect of Norman getting his fat, stubby fingers on her baby?
“Lights.” I grabbed the coverlet, wrapping it around my shoulders and got up. There was no point in staring at the ceiling – the answers weren’t there. If they existed, they’d be in Elsbeth’s workdesk.
“Joe’s birthday present is the best of all. Not that I told Daddy Bear that. Did the flinging-my-arms-around-his-neck business while telling him the yacht was the best thing in the Universe. Like I’m going to be allowed to go travelling without him!” Elsbeth rolls her eyes. “He kept telling me all the alterations he’s had done to it. How much it cost. And how someone warned him that pink and silver as a colour scheme was far too expensive – but he went ahead, anyhow.”
Her face has filled out, and she is wearing her customary carefully applied make-up. She also looks happier than I’ve ever seen her. She holds up a holopic of a newborn baby slowly developing and changing as he grows. As the baby starts toddling, the pic flips back to the newborn stage, again.
I recognised it – the Cap had one commissioned when Mum was pregnant with Sammy. Not that she got particularly excited over it.
“Joe sent it. It’s a best-guess representation of how the baby will look once he’s born, based on our DNA. Our son…” her voice softens. “I’m counting the days till I can hold him in my arms and smell his hair. Look into his soft blue eyes and tell him how much I love him.” She laughs. “And Daddy Bear thinks that some made-over battle cruiser rigged up by his engineers to look like a proper yacht is going to compete with this?”
She never did get to hold her son. Three days later, Elsbeth is dead. Along with Joe, her husband, and her mother. And however it happened, after watching this final journal entry, I’d bet my last cred that she didn’t cause the crash.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Angry and sad, I drew breath to give the Off command-
Rick’s face appears.
Palms greasing, I rechecked the date – this entry was tabbed on the day he died.
“Elizabeth? Sorry to cut and run on you, my dear. But I’ve been royally reamed by you-know-who. One of his too-clever boys has been playing naughty games with my account.” His smile is more of a grimace. “Blast his black soul to Dante’s nine rings of Hell, is what I say.”
He looks around his office and lowers his voice, “Just think, when you hear the stories. I’ve been taking little slices here and there – which himself is aware of, I might add. Why would I be so crassly obvious as to dump thousands of creds into my account in one gigahit?”
I sagged in the chair, feeling gut-punched. He’s right! And I never questioned it – merely accepted the official version.
“I’m sending all this info to Elsbeth’s workdesk in StealthMode, so don’t worry about it being traced back to me. Bernal knows the coding for it and I’ve tabbed him to lose it in amongst the ite-codes for—”
There is a noise.
Rick’s face brightens, softens as he looks up. “Ah, dearest boy,” his voice is caressing. “I’m afraid we’re in something of a black hole. If we’re going to escape, we’ll have to move fast.”
Bernal is outside the scope of Rick’s workdesk cam, but he sounds a mess. “You said-you said there was nothing between you. Liar! Prodding liar!”
Rick jerks as a tab flies across the room, striking him in the chest. He catches it in one smooth motion before it hits the floor and gazes at it for a long minute.
Bernal is crying, still out of camshot.
As Rick looks down at the tab screen, his face hardens into a mask. “You can take the boy out of the gutter, but you can’t take the gutter out of the boy, can you, William?” He looks back up at Bernal. His eyes are pleading, although his voice remains level, “And if I give you my word of honour. Swear on my love for you that this is a sliming lie?” Rick throws the tab onto the desk, still gazing at Bernal.
“What – someone hired actors to look just like you and her? And… go at it, together? That’s the crud you’re feeding me, is it?” Bernal’s voice is a tear-cracked screech. “After finding you hugging her this afternoon – you expect me to believe that?”
That must be me Bernal’s yelling about. Which means there is a tab featuring a sex scene between me and Rick. I felt sick. Who has it now?
“Yes, my dear,” Rick speaks quietly. “Someone has also gone to the trouble of gifting my private account with over two hundred thousand creds that weren’t there yesterday.” He stands, holding out his arms entreatingly. “You’re beautiful and bright. Use that brain. Think! The timing is all too convenient. Don’t fall into his traps.”
No – don’t. Please… Although I knew what was coming next, I couldn’t look away.
Bernal finally comes into camshot, waving the knife around. “See this? I swear it – I’ll c-cut myself to p-prodding pieces if you don’t tell me the truth!”
I clapped my hands across my mouth, sobbing dryly.
Rick grabs Bernal’s knife hand. The boy braces himself, preparing for a struggle. Rick trips and twists, slumped across Bernal. Caught off-balance, Bernal stumbles, cursing. Until crimson liquid pumps across his hands… his clothes… splashes his face and he starts keening, “No, no, nooo…” A desolate wail of pure misery.
I shut it off. Shaking so hard my teeth chattered. Rick hadn’t been a cred-grabbing thief. Bernal hadn’t been a murderer. They’d lost their reputations and their lives. All because Norman decided they’d worn out their usefulness.
Stumbling back to bed, I still didn’t sleep.
*
The next morning felt as if I’d been overdoing QuickThink. My brain was itching inside my skull. Every sound seemed amped as I marched along the corridor to brekkie later than I’d intended, praying that Norman wouldn’t be there.
Responding to everyone’s nods and smiles was an effort. This friendliness is a holo-hoax. I could be dead tomorrow and everyone here would swallow whole any scuzzy story Norman came up with.
That notion did nothing for my appetite. However, I forced some toast down with a cup of coffee, keen to be gone before the General made an appearance.
Although, a couple of his aides made some smirking comments about how ‘the Boss’ wouldn’t be surfacing anytime soon.
I didn’t ask why. The guards’ constant black-clad presence and unswerving loyalty to Norman felt increasingly threatening. Especially this morning. I sneaked a look at the guard standing by the door while sipping my coffee. Were you the one who killed Violet? Did she open her eyes at the last minute to see you standing over her?
My toast threatened to reappear. I’ll go star-crazed if I keep thinking like this.
Fortunately, just then Finley tabbed me to say Mrs Heston and her party were due to land in two hours. I jumped up, relieved there was a stack of safe, everyday tasks needing my attention. Anything to stop thinking.
*
“And that’s for being a soft old General Bear.”
I nearly choked on my Yorkshire pudding as Kyreen leaned forward and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose, leaving a clown-like smear of lip-gloss. I held my breath, waiting for the explosion. Norman won’t put up with being made to look stupid in front of a visiting supplier. Will he?
But he just grinned at her. “Just your big old teddy, sweetheart…”
&nb
sp; Not daring to look in Mrs Heston’s direction to see just how this love-smuck was going down with her, I took a large gulp of wine.
“And how was your journey? Hope you found the ship comfortable?” George’s attempts at conversation were bordering on the desperate – he’d already asked Mrs Heston about her trip.
Admittedly, watching Kyreen lean her high-buffed bod against the General and kiss him between courses during the meal was distracting enough to cause the odd memory lapse. Launching into a discussion funny and sharp enough to take everyone’s attention off the disturbing spectacle of a lovestruck Norman was beyond me – indeed, I reckon it would have stretched Rick’s abilities… I knocked back the rest of the wine and signalled for a refill.
“You’re very quiet tonight, sweetheart.” The General peeled himself away from Kyreen’s all-too-evident charms to finally toss a comment in my direction.
“Mm.”
Kyreen threw a challenging glance in my direction, before squashing her generous chest against Norman to whisper something in his ear. His response was a bellow of laughter as he hugged her even more tightly. Watching her cleavage strain against the scraps of material keeping it restrained, I wondered what would happen if the laws of gravity prevailed and she burst out of the dress she was nearly wearing.
Perhaps this slo-mo misery would finally end. Flicking a look around the room, I noticed that David and George, along with a couple of aides, were rigidly blank-faced, along with his Shadows. But most of Norman’s entourage were openly grinning their encouragement at ‘General Bear’. While Mrs Heston and her techs watched wide-eyed as Kyreen continued to smear herself across the General.
I wanted to kick the prodding table as I watched our efforts – mine and George’s – unravel. We’ve talked our tongues dry trying to persuade this lady that we are a respectable outfit. That the shoddy reports she’s heard were spread by our enemies. And now Norman is displaying the manners of some chem-stimmed merc thug, thanks to this trouser-twitching piece!
The realisation that I sounded like one of the shipboard nannies from Shooting a Star on a bad day didn’t help my mood.
“Kyreen reckons you could do with a man in your life, sweetheart. Maybe then, you’d look less sour.” His glittering grin told me that Norman was up to his old tricks. Dross-stirring to see what would float to the surface.
I should’ve stayed silent, but the recollection of Rick’s death was the final push into the black hole. “And maybe Kyreen’s mouth should stick to smearing her lip-gloss across your face and stop flapping about stuff that’s none of her affair.” My best imitation of the Cap in wither mode was reasonably successful, judging by the hectic flush crossing her face and the gasps and sniggers pattering around the room.
Norman’s grin morphed into a snarl. “You apologise to Kyreen. Now!”
And I nearly did – I swear to Mother Earth. I actually drew breath to say, ‘Sorry’ – till I saw the triumphant smirk on the prod-bunny’s face. Light-headed with sudden fury, I snapped, “Of course! I’m sorrier than I can say that I’ve had to sit here and watch her drape herself all over you throughout this meal. I’m sorry and ashamed that our guests have had to witness her absence of manners—”
“Don’t look down your pointy nose at me, you upswept little bitch!” Kyreen screeched.
Mrs Heston stood up, quickly followed by her two techs. “If you’ll excuse us, I think we’ll retire to our rooms.”
Everyone rose around the table in automatic – and very belated – deference to our guests.
David moved towards them, somehow managing a graceful bow at the same time. “It would be my honour to escort you, ma’am.”
“Oh, thank you!” Mrs Heston took his offered arm as if it was an airline.
Norman flicked an eyebrow at the Shadow standing at the door, who loped after the retreating guests. As the door shut, the General turned on me. “Hope you’re happy now, you miserable waste of air! Your prink-mouthed hypocrisy has likely cost us a credible alternative to Gadenson’s shields. And your sour little face makes me sick to my stomach. Here I am – happy for the first time in a long light year. And all you do is try and flush my joy out’ve the airlock, you jealous little piece!” Busy working himself up, the veins in his forehead started to bulge as his face reddened.
George was at his side, with his hand on Norman’s shoulder, “Now William, this mess isn’t completely down to Elizabeth…”
Thank you so much for the overwhelming support, Number Two!
Not that it did him any good.
With a bellow, Norman flung George away from him. “Enough! You can space yourself with your hypnosis bilgescum to keep my temper caged. Seeing as you’re getting all cosy with her.” He jabbed his finger in the air at me. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing! Sliming your way into my organisation with your, ‘Alright Father, I’ll take over Procurement for you!’” His lisping imitation of me was a cracked falsetto that had Kyreen giggling. “While getting your sorry self all primed to take over from me. Oh, yes! I’ve watched you in action.”
What!
His face was a contorted mask as he bellowed, “After all I’ve done for you – this is how you repay me!”
I laughed. Threw back my head and howled hysterically at the notion. “You’re star-crazed!” I gurgled. “Why would I want this? I’ve seen what it’s done to you. Daddy Bear!”
Everyone watched in shock-struck silence. Even the General paused in mid-rant.
“All I wanted… was to make you proud.” Another whoop convulsed me. “Wanted to be a serving officer,” I gasped, wiping away tears of mirth, “Like Mum. I… ended up in Procurement… cos you asked…” I was too busy riding another storm of cackling laughter, so I didn’t see or hear the General’s command.
But I felt the result, solidly enough.
The Shadow’s hand connected with my cheek heavily enough to knock me to the floor. That stopped my amusement. Leaving me fizzing with adrenaline and cold, clear purpose.
All the wet-headed confusion of the last year dropped away.
I surged to my feet, my knife in my hands. “You touch me again, you demon-damned spacespawn, you better make a proper job of it. Like you did Violet. Or I’ll cut your prodding heart out!”
George’s yelp was anguished, “Oh, Elizabeth!”
Norman rounded on him. Despite his bulk, he was a blur. And when he stopped moving, he had his Number Two in a chokehold and was squeezing the life out of him.
“You and her, George? Is that how it is, eh? She warming your bed, is she?”
“You can take the boy out’ve the gutter, but you can’t take the gutter out’ve the boy,” my voice rang around the room. “Know who said that about you? Rick on the day he died. He’s right. What makes you think any of this is about sex? Only thing I had in common with him was that we both loved you.” I jerked my head in George’s direction, but didn’t take my eyes from the General’s face.
Because if I watch Number Two gasping for air as Norman slowly kills him, I’ll buckle. Which won’t help either of us. Norman will listen just so long as he thinks it’s worth his while and I stay strong.
Although his blotched complexion and heavy breathing denoted that the General was still angry, he was fully in control. “So… Violet, sweetheart. How did you find out about that sad little soul, eh?”
Without taking my gaze off Norman, I nodded to George. “Better let him go. Strangling your Number Two in front of the hired help lacks class.”
Norman let out a shout of laughter as he released him. George scrambled out of his reach, sucking down noisy lungfuls of air.
“I truly never know what is going to drop out of your mouth next. But to business – Violet. You were going to tell me about her.” He actually smiled at me. As if less than five minutes ago he hadn’t been screaming that I was plotting against him.
“My half-sister. A clone made up of Elsbeth’s and my DNA. You tried tampering with the attributes and your
bio-engineer blixed it up.” Despite my best efforts, my voice wobbled, “She ended up a drooling idiot. Till Elsbeth discovered her. And she died.” I glanced around the tense black figures ranged around the table, some with weapons trained on me. Norman’s elite Shadows, who’d all vowed to lay down their lives for him. “So, which one of you upstanding articles squeezed the life out of a ten-year-old child in the middle of the night? Or maybe poisoned her supper?”
The scumsac who’d struck me lunged in my direction. Easily avoiding his clumsy grab, I dropped into a fighting crouch. “Too used to dealing with helpless girlies and soft-handed adminites? You’ve become slow.”
The Shadows were all in lightweight armour without helms, so I saw the snarl on the bodyguard’s face. Even so, he looked across at his master, like the well-trained dog he was. Who waved him away, still favouring me with the full weight of his attention.
Looking back, I suppose I should’ve been terrified. But I’d grown up not to show any sign of fear in these kinds of situation, and anyhow my disgust and anger at his treatment of Rick and Violet smothered my fright. Elsbeth had been right, he was a monster. And I didn’t know a lot about a lot – but I knew about monsters.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Eyes glowing, Norman’s stare devoured me. “So, Lizbeth. Who’s been filling your head with all this poisonous crud, eh?”
“Which part is crud? Violet surely lived – I saw the footage.” I took hold of the back of the chair, while tightening my grip on the knife. If the Shadows rushed me, I’d take at least one of them out.
He fumbled in his pocket. I thought he was reaching for a cigar. Until he pulled out a tab and flicked it on. “Here’s some footage. You’ll be telling me that this is crud, also.” He grinned.
This is meat and air to you, isn’t it? Jabbing till you draw blood. Icy calm poured through me like healing balm as I raised my eyebrows. “And you’ve just proved my hunch. You were the one who dumped all those creds into Rick’s account, weren’t you?”
Norman’s expression darkened.
