Corky wrinkled her face in disgust and stormed silently out of the room.
Mission accomplished, Malory swung her legs around and dropped to the floor. Smiling brightly, she made tracks for her quarters to begin the menial task of unpacking her things.
03/07/02 - 1045 hours
The next two weeks passed quickly for Malory as she spent the time familiarizing herself with the staff, summoning a few each day and spending a few moments getting to know them and their assigned duties. She soon came to the conclusion that her position was pretty much a formality. The staff all knew their jobs and were dedicated enough that supervision really wasn’t required. That suited her just fine, the less she was needed the more time she would have for herself, and now was a good as time as any to indulge. She reached for the phone to summon the only person she hadn’t spoken to formally.
———
“I’m telling you, Corky,” Clovis said over his coffee cup. “She’s not as bad as you make her out to be.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I spoke to her for almost half an hour, she’s kinda nice,” Clovis admitted. “Not what I expected at all.”
“She’s an asshole,” Corky proclaimed, getting a laugh from her friend.
“You’re just mad because she’s got your number,” Clovis chuckled.
Corky frowned. “I am not.”
“You think she’s cute?” he asked mischievously.
The frowned deepened. “I think she’s an infuriating bitch.”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed. “Do you think she’s a cute infuriating bitch?”
She regarded him coolly and drew in a sharp breath.
“This is Lovecraft,” the intercom beckoned. “Dr. Rivers, would you report to my office, please?”
“Looks like the Commander saved me,” Clovis said cheerfully.
“You’re not off the hook, Stokes,” she grumbled. “I wonder if she’d be pissed if I didn’t show up?”
“Probably,” he predicted. “She’s called everyone in to talk to them. Hell Corky, everyone likes her but you.”
“Hmmm,” she grunted.
Clovis grinned. “Go see what she wants.”
“Oh, alright,” she sighed. “I hope I don’t regret this,” she mumbled as she rose to her feet and padded out the door.
Her thoughts were dark as she reluctantly made her way through the halls. She had gone to great lengths to avoid the maddening woman since their encounter in Medical. The bitch was an enigma to her, having never met anyone who took such an obvious delight in being irritating. The first words out of her mouth, and just about every word since, had been insulting. What was even more annoying was the fact that the woman had seemingly singled her out of the crowd and targeted her for torment. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.
As she approached her destination, she paused to school her features into a bored and indifferent expression. With a deep, calming breath, she traveled the last few feet and knocked on the doorframe.
“Ahh,” Malory said in delight. “Come in, Dr. Rivers. Have a seat.”
Corky entered warily and gently placed herself in the same chair in which she had received Larry’s final lecture. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, I did,” Malory confirmed cheerfully. “I’ve talked to everyone on the staff but you and I was hoping we could take this time to get past any differences you and I might have. After all, we’ll both be working together for quite sometime.”
Corky eyed the Commander suspiciously. “I wasn’t aware that I had done anything that might have given you offense?”
A chuckle. “It usually takes more than one day for someone to muster the nerve to call me a bitch to my face.”
“And I suppose you did nothing to warrant such an action?” Corky asked mildly.
“I, of course, admit nothing,” she replied with a disarming smile. “But I called you here with the intention of calming the waters.”
“How do you propose to accomplish that?” Corky asked trying not to smile at the charm the woman was displaying.
“I thought you might start by telling me what your problem is with the people in uniform?” she asked mildly.
Corky tensed.
“I had a chat with Mr. Daniels about you before he departed,” Malory continued, studying the woman carefully. “Don’t worry, he didn’t say anything he shouldn’t have.”
A relieved breath. “You won’t be offended if I say I don’t know you near well enough to have that conversation with you?”
“Of course not,” Malory said beaming her best smile. “I wouldn’t presume to put you in such an uncomfortable position.”
To Corky’s dismay, she couldn’t help but smile in response to the one being directed at her. “Then I don’t understand.”
“I have a solution,” Malory said brightly. “I was pretty sure you’d refuse to tell me, so I thought you might tell my Executive Officer?”
Corky gaped. “Huh?”
“Just try to keep an open mind, alright?” she asked hopefully.
“I don’t get it,” Corky admitted, wondering what the woman was up to.
“Just try,” she asked again sweetly, begging her with her eyes.
“Okay,” Corky relented. “I’ll try.”
“Great,” she exclaimed happily, suddenly bending over and digging in a desk drawer.
Corky watched in confusion, half of her curious to see what the woman was up to and the other half almost positive she was being set up for something. Her lips tightened into a thin line when a small tape recorder was placed on the desk in front of her. However, the stinging comment poised on the tip of her tongue died quickly and she lapsed into a furious trance when another item was placed on the desk. Her eyes focused in on the doll unbelievingly. Within arms reach sat a Chatty Kathy with a bad red dye job, clothed in a childish copy of a Naval uniform and complete with a little black sombrero.
“Now, I know what you’re probably thinking,” Malory said quickly. “But I’ve used this approach successfully many times in the past. I’ll just hit record and go find something to do for about an hour. Little Lovecraft is a good listener, feel free to tell her anything you want.”
Corky could only stare, all traces of color gone from her face.
Trying to keep a straight face until she was out of the room, Malory turned the recorder on and made a hasty exit.
It took almost five full minutes for a nonviolent thought to penetrate Corky’s consciousness. The bitch suckered me right in! And to think for a second there I thought she was charming! Why me? What the fuck is her malfunction?
She was suddenly aware that her hands hurt and she dropped her gaze from the doll to find her knuckles white from the death grip she had on the arms of her chair. Fingers uncurled themselves gingerly and she grimaced slightly as circulation reasserted itself. When she had regained some feeling, her eyes again traveled back to the idiotic doll, noting the little cord dangling from her neck. Do I dare?
She debated carefully, but in the end she couldn’t help herself. Knowing she was going to regret it, she reached out and pulled the string.
———
Malory watched from her hiding place, amusement so apparent on her face a blind man could see it, as the doctor stormed out of her office and stomped off down the hallway. She made herself wait until the woman disappeared before she practically ran back to her office, laughing delightedly when she found Little Lovecraft in the garbage can and both lying across the room. As hoped, Corky had forgotten about the recorder. She picked it up excitedly to rewind it and plopped down in her chair to listen.
“Roses are red. Violets are blue. Don’t you just hate it when I fuck with you,” came the childishly sung tease.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” Corky said angrily.
A pregnant pause and then. “I know you are but what am I?”
The final taunt was followed immediately by the sound of Little Lovecraft landing violently in the trashcan and t
hen the thud and crash as both were obviously kicked across the room.
Malory fell back in her chair, laughing uproariously.
03/29/02 - 1130 hours
The next few weeks passed slowly and life for the Commander had become exceedingly dull. She was rarely sought out for anything other than the most trivial of things and to make matters worse, Dr. Rivers had successfully managed to avoid any contact with her. Leaving the mess every time she entered, whether she was done with her meal or not, and taking the precaution of slipping on a pair of earmuffs so she couldn’t listen to her the one time she had approached her in Medical. Among other things, Malory decided, the woman was a poor sport.
She was in the midst of another losing hand of computer Solitaire when DeSoto appeared in the doorway.
“Commander,” he said in greeting.
“What’s up?” she asked distractedly.
“External communications are down,” he reported. “I’d like permission to go outside and clear the dome?”
Malory perked up. “Alone?”
“No, I was gonna take Butler with me.”
“Cut him loose, I’ll go,” she said, happy to have a project.
“Very well, Commander,” he said warily. “It’s quite a hike and the weather is pretty ugly.”
“Looking forward to it,” she said cheerfully, hopping up from her chair. “Give me a few minutes, please.”
“Alright, I’ll be in Receiving when you’re ready.”
“Meet you there.”
Ten minutes later, she arrived at the platform, feeling burdened under the weight of all her arctic clothing. She was curious and excited to see what the outside looked like in the winter.
“Ready, Commander?” DeSoto asked.
“Yep, lead the way.”
“I kinda thought we’d drive, Commander,” he said confusedly.
“Huh?”
“The silo is about a mile away,” he explained.
“I thought you said it was a hike.”
“It will be going up,” he clarified.
She chuckled. “Okay, give me the scoop.”
He pointed to a distant door in the ice. “We take a snowmobile down that corridor to the silo. Once there we climb to the surface where the dome is situated.”
“Ahh, so who’s driving?” she asked with a smile.
“You’re the Commander,” he said wryly.
“That I am. Show me to my chariot,” she commanded the dark featured young man.
Several minutes later, his arms were clinging desperately around her waist as they rocketed down the narrow passageway at a blistering pace. His mind conjuring up images of what he would look like if they crashed, picturing his body a mass of compound fractures lying at the end of a long bloodstain that stood out sharply in the snow. He was immeasurably relieved when they got to the end of the corridor still intact.
Malory hopped off the snowmobile and turned on the flashlight that DeSoto had given her, curiously investigating her surroundings. A few yards away was a ladder that climbed upwards through a circular hole in the ice, the temperature was bitter, even under all of her gear.
“How far up?” she asked.
“About a quarter of a mile,” DeSoto answered. “Don’t let any exposed skin touch the metal of the ladder.”
“So it would be a bad idea to lick one of the rungs?”
He chuckled. “Only if you have the desire to have your tongue amputated.”
“Think I’ll pass,” she grinned. “Want me to carry any of the gear?”
“I got it.”
“You’re the boss, lead the way.”
A few minutes into the climb, she was beginning to think she would’ve been better off bored in her office. It was frightfully cold and her hands were starting to hurt, the chill of the metal ladder effortlessly penetrating the insulation of her gloves. In addition, it was creepy in the dark and the atmosphere was claustrophobic within the confines of the tunnel. When they finally reached the top, she decided that DeSoto had been correct; it was indeed quite a hike.
They emerged into a small, but thankfully much warmer room filled with a variety of cabling and electronic equipment. She noticed that space heaters were installed within the walls and she turned to DeSoto.
“These heaters run on a timer?” she asked curiously.
“Yes,” he replied, shedding his backpack. “They run just enough to keep the equipment from freezing over.”
“All of this powered from our own generators?”
“Yes.”
“Why so far away from the main compound?”
“Because we needed an outside landscape that could camouflage our equipment,” he explained. “The area above the compound is flat ice, hard to hide the dome.”
She looked to the ceiling. “Are you telling me we’re standing under a glass roof?”
“A special kind of glass, yes. You wouldn’t be able see this place from the outside unless you stepped on it.”
“Wow, you guys really went all out here,” she commented. “So, what do we need to do?”
“Unfortunately, we have to go outside and shovel the snow off the dome.”
“That sounds like fun,” she said dryly, she was still cold. “How much snow?”
“Depends,” he shrugged. “It’s not really snow, we don’t get a lot of that here. Winds from the coast blow ice into the interior, so the landscape is always changing. Maybe four feet, might be a little less.”
“Great,” she said grumpily, now certain that she should have stayed in her office.
“Well, we get Mexican tonight for dinner,” he offered happily. “Dr. Rivers makes a mean plate.”
“Excuse me?” she asked curiously. “Dr. Rivers is making dinner?”
“Sure,” the man shrugged. “Usually once a week, a couple of people give the kitchen staff a night off. Dr. Rivers always does Mexican.”
“Really?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Yep.”
“Hmmm, well let’s get after it.”
She tried to hide her frown when he handed her a shovel.
———
Malory trudged back to her quarters and flopped face down onto her cot in all of her clothes, immediately covering herself with blankets. She had never been so cold in all of her life. It had taken most of the day to clear the snow from the dome, due largely in part to the fact that they had to work in shifts. Not being able to endure the weather for more than ten minutes at a time, it had been pitch black outside and the wind could only be described as evil. She knew for a fact that she would not be volunteering herself for another project, no matter how bored she might become.
She peeked out from under the covers to glance at the clock, a little grin twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Almost dinner time,” she whispered nefariously.
———
Corky stood behind the counter jovially filling the passing trays with food. This was one of her favorite activities; she loved to cook and enjoyed the friendly banter of her colleagues. Being the chef also provided the benefit of indulging her ego and she gleefully soaked up the compliments she received for her culinary efforts.
In fact, now that Larry was gone, she had grudgingly decided that things weren’t as bad as she had predicted them to be. It had taken a lot of effort, but she was finally able to admit, despite her personal feelings for the insufferable Commander, that everyone seemed to genuinely like the woman. She didn’t intrude, was easygoing, and pretty much let everyone do their own thing.
Her own feelings, however, contrasted starkly against public opinion. She hated, or more accurately, she loathed the bitch to the point of being unable to devise a death for the redheaded slag that would be suitably tortuous. Even more maddening was the fact that she couldn’t figure out why the woman would go to such great lengths to torment her. She would probably like the woman her coworkers described, but she had yet to see that person and it didn’t make her feel special to be singularly chosen for such abuse.
The whole thing both pissed her off and perplexed her.
“Uh oh, Corky,” Clovis said coming up from behind to deliver another platter of food from the kitchen. “Word of your table has reached the ears of the Commander,” he whispered conspiratorially.
“Huh?” Corky asked looking over her shoulder at the man.
“Here she comes,” Clovis gestured with a nod.
Corky looked over to see that the Commander had entered the mess hall and she tensed. Trapped! She couldn’t very well storm out while serving the food she had prepared for everyone. Her eyes narrowed as it occurred to her that the bitch probably knew this as well and was using it to her advantage.
She tracked the woman covertly as she made her way towards the counter, scoffing internally at the way the she was dressed. What a slob. Her boots were untied, the laces dragging behind her on the floor. The blue fatigue pants half tucked into one boot as if she were too lazy to bother and she wore a gray Annapolis sweatshirt that was covered liberally with white paint stains. Even her hair gave the impression of slothfulness, being tied up but falling out all over the place. It secretly chapped Corky’s ass that the woman was pretty enough to get away with looking so slovenly. It bothered her even more that her appearance probably did nothing but endear her to the male population. God I hate her!
She hastily summoned her most impassive expression as the woman grabbed a tray and sauntered forward.
“Good evening, Dr. Rivers,” Malory said cheerfully. “Be generous with the grub, I worked up an appetite today.”
Corky snatched Malory’s tray silently and handed it to Clovis to fill.
“I heard you went outside with DeSoto today,” Clovis asked conversationally. “How was it?”
“Cold,” Malory replied with a shudder.
“I’ll bet,” he chuckled, handing her a tray filled to the brim.
Malory’s eyes fell to the food in front of her, painfully aware of the brown eyes watching her intently. “What’s this?” she asked.
“An assortment of Mexican dishes,” Corky said stiffly before Clovis could answer.
Malory eyed her tray suspiciously. “It looks like Pancho Villa puked in my plate.”
Icehole Page 3
