by Lara Morgan
Once out in the corridor she walked fast, not even sure which way she was going. She forgot that she was supposed to be getting water. There was a hard ball in her chest. Everything was suddenly too much, too hard, and she felt her control slipping. She stopped and put her hands against the hull, but it didn’t help. Her legs felt weak, like they wouldn’t support her. She began to shake and sat on the floor against the cold metal wall, trying to suck in air. It didn’t help – the tears came anyway. They burst out with a moan of pain that shocked and frightened her. But she couldn’t stop. She put her head in her hands and gave in, her whole body trembling as she sobbed so hard she thought she might break apart. It was Nerita who found her there in what felt like an hour later.
The pilot walked up the corridor and stopped nearby. Her expression was bland as she said, “Bad day?”
Rosie wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Bad week.” The storm of tears had abated, leaving her feeling drained and exhausted so she could barely lift her head.
Nerita was silent for a minute then surprised her by squatting down beside her. “I had a bad day once,” she said.
Rosie studied her profile. Was Nerita going to tell her that her problems were minuscule compared with other people’s?
The pilot turned to her. Her dark eyes skimmed over Rosie’s face, giving nothing away.
“Only once?” Rosie said.
Nerita’s expression didn’t change. “No one only has one.” She settled closer to the wall. “I used to have my own ship – a crew of three, a contract with the UEC out on Gliese transporting the exploratory scientists, providing earth to planet support.” She brushed a speck of dirt off the knee of her pants. “A trip went sour. A few UEC guard personnel took a dislike to each other and we had a hull breach between Gliese D and E. Too far to make it to the atmo and too much damage. She broke up. I managed to get into one of the spacewalk units and so did one of my crew, but the others didn’t make it.” Nerita eyed Rosie. “One of them was my lover, the other my friend. I didn’t give a damn about the UEC lot – they brought it on themselves – but the other one, who I got into a suit, was my sister and it didn’t have a full tank of air. We were stuck in the black for five hours before they got to us and by then it was too late. I watched her die. Never have forgotten how scared she looked. That was a bad day and my first scar, the one you get on your heart that never heals because someone you loved died due to your actions – or lack of.” Her voice was low, almost emotionless, but not quite. “But you go on, don’t you?”
“How long ago did it happen?” Rosie said.
“Twelve years.” She rose. “I’m going to see if your aunt wants to view the bridge, maybe copilot.”
She walked off. Rosie sat for a while longer thinking about what she’d said. It was a terrible story and it made her think of Juli. She didn’t like to think about her, or imagine what her last minutes might have been like, but Nerita’s words about watching her sister die brought an awful image to her mind of Juli being engulfed in the fire of the explosion at her house. What had she thought of in those last moments? It made Rosie sad all over again for her friend. She couldn’t face going back to see her dad – yet another person she loved who was suffering because of this mess.
She got up and went back to the galley instead.
Pip was there, sitting at a table staring at an empty cup. She stopped in the doorway.
“Need something?” he said without turning around.
She almost went out again, but where else was there to go? She pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him. He didn’t move, just kept staring at the cup.
“Pip,” she said.
“What?”
“Are you okay?”
His lips twisted in a sardonic smile and he watched his thumb tapping on the tabletop. “Yeah, sure, just perfect, how about you?”
“You look like you haven’t slept since we got on the ship.”
He stopped tapping and said in a low voice, “Rosie, I don’t want to talk about it.”
She hesitated. “It might help.”
“There’s nothing to help.”
“Pip–”
“I don’t feel anything, Rosie,” he interrupted her.
His gaze was so bleak, so empty it frightened her. “Nothing?” she said.
He shook his head. “I’m glad he’s dead.”
She reached for his hand but he pulled away.
“Don’t.” He pushed back his chair. “Just leave it, Rosie.” He walked out without looking back.
CHAPTER 43
They made planetfall forty hours later, just after midnight Earth time. Nerita uploaded a virus to the Senate’s surveillance system to scramble their whereabouts and landed at a derelict spaceport at the edge of the Old City.
“That virus should last about twenty minutes.” Nerita glanced at Rosie in the copilot chair. “Should be enough time for you and me to get clear.”
“I hope so.” Rosie pushed off the chair restraints. “Thanks for helping us.”
“Hey, you did me a favour with the copiloting, but if you feel that way,” she slid a finger over a halo control, with a half smile on her face, “maybe I’ll see you in the skies one day and you can repay me then. Now hurry up, time’s wasting.”
Rosie ran to the lift.
“Good luck,” Nerita called. Rosie looked back but she was already deep into programming her navigation to leave.
Aunt Essie was waiting for her at the airlock in the cargo bay with Pip and her dad. Her dad was leaning on her aunt and didn’t look too great. He barely seemed aware of where they were, as if he was sleepwalking, but he smiled when he saw her. Together they got him off the ship and took shelter behind the crumbling wall of an old building as the Cosmic Mariner took off in a wave of heat and ion flare. Rosie watched as the brightness of it faded, leaving them with only faint moonlight to illuminate the surroundings.
“This way,” Pip said and headed towards a path through the trees.
Rosie could only just make him out by the white shirt. She put an arm around her dad and followed, Aunt Essie close behind. Everything smelled damp and the trees were grey shadows, the ground patterned with moonlight. The scrub was sparse and she could hear something rustling in the low bushes. Rats probably. She prayed there were no mosquitoes, but then wondered: had Pip’s blood made her immune to the MalX?
“How far is it to the Game Pit?” Aunt Essie asked Pip.
“It’s on the edge of the Western Rim, through the Banks.”
“How long will it take to get there?” Rosie said.
Pip glanced back at her struggling along with her dad. “Too long if he doesn’t move faster.” He went to her dad’s other side and put his arm around him. “Lean on me,” he said, and her dad obeyed, staring vacantly ahead at the ground.
“Thanks,” Rosie said softly, but Pip didn’t reply. Her aunt took her hand and gave it a squeeze and they followed them along the narrow path.
They reached the back streets of the Banks and moved through the quiet apartment blocks, keeping to the darker shadows. The shouts of drunks and the thump of music from the riverside bars and gaming hubs carried in the warm humid air. Occasionally, they passed a street humpy with refugees inside, high on euphorics or worse, but they were too wasted to notice them.
It was slow going as they had to check around every corner, but their caution paid off when, just inside the boundary of the Rim, they spotted a grunt.
Tall, muscular and dressed all in black, he was skulking around a row of closed shops.
“Get back,” Pip whispered. He drew back from the corner of the alley and flattened himself and her dad as best he could against the wall next to Rosie.
She took her dad’s arm, keeping him close as he glanced vaguely down at her, his eyes half closed. Thank goodness he wasn’t speaking.
Her heart thudding, she asked Pip, “How far is it to the Game Pit now?”
“A few blocks.” His blue eyes seemed almost bla
ck in the dim light. “But the best way is across this street.”
“We need a distraction,” Aunt Essie said.
With a leap of fear, Rosie gripped her arm. “You can’t.”
“Don’t worry.” Aunt Essie smiled. “I’m not up to tackling him.”
Pip staggered as Rosie’s dad suddenly drooped, his eyes fluttering and closing, his knees bowing.
“Dad,” Rosie whispered, shaking his arm. “Dad, wake up.”
He swung his head towards her, his eyes opening a little. “Rosie?” he said softly.
Pip was straining to keep him upright, staring at her to do something.
“Yeah, Dad, it’s me,” she whispered, terrified the grunt would hear them. “Stand up, can you?”
He smiled at her, one hand lifting to brush her face. “Okay.” With obvious effort he shuffled upwards, leaning on Pip who was breathing hard.
“We’ll have to go back,” Aunt Essie said.
“But don’t we need to get across this street?” Rosie asked Pip.
“We’ll just have to double back. What’s the grunt doing?”
Rosie peeped out around the corner. “I can’t see him,” she said.
Pip swore softly and then they all froze as the sound of a booted footstep echoed in the silent street. It was way too close for comfort.
Pip got a tight hold on her dad and pushed Rosie ahead of him back down the alley, gesturing wildly to her to get moving. As quietly as they could, they all sped back the way they had come, keeping close to the wall. Rosie prayed the grunt didn’t look down the alley; there was no way he could miss them.
“Left,” Pip whispered at the end of the alley and they headed along the back of the building, moving parallel to the street where the grunt had been.
Rosie wondered if he had any idea where they were or if Helios had just sent out a heap of scouts all over the city looking for them.
They walked in fearful silence for another ten minutes before they risked heading back towards the main street. Rosie went ahead and checked the corner. “Looks clear,” she said, but Pip didn’t look confident.
“He’s probably lying low. They’ve got heat sensor equipment. Short range but he could have clocked us already and is just waiting for the right place to jump us.” Getting her aunt to hold onto her dad, Pip leaned in close and looked out into the street. The collar of his shirt brushed her face and Rosie felt his warmth and smelled his faint dusty scent. It seemed like he stayed there longer than he needed to.
“Guess we got no choice,” he said, looking at her.
For a moment it felt like it had back at the Enclave, like they were in this together. But she was wrong; there was still a vast distance in his eyes. She turned away.
“Is Dad okay?” she whispered to her aunt.
“I think so but it’d be better if he was lying down.”
“Let’s go then.” Pip put an arm around his waist and they moved across the street as quickly as they could. Rosie kept thinking she heard soft footsteps behind them but whenever she turned around could see nothing. She hoped it was just her imagination.
The Game Pit’s entrance was almost hidden by the jutting wall of a building, and the only people in there were the barman and a drunk who glanced at them through bleary eyes then went back to his drink.
The Pit was dark, dirty and smelled like rancid oil. The barman gave Pip a curt nod as they came in the door. Rosie watched Pip lower her dad onto a grubby lounge in an alcove and noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the weary slope of his shoulders; he was exhausted.
“Thanks,” she said as Pip straightened, wincing slightly.
“No worries,” he said and went over to talk to the barman, gesturing at the ancient-looking comnet in the far corner.
Aunt Essie went to the bathroom while Rosie checked on her dad. He didn’t look good; he was much too pale and although the rash was fading, he was still feverish.
Pip came back. “Mack said you can use the com whenever you want.”
“He a friend of yours?”
“Not particularly, but he hates Helios.”
Well that was something. Rosie took the pendant from her shirt and took a step towards the com but Pip grabbed her arm.
“Rosie, wait. Your dad …”
She spun around. His eyes were closed and he’d become even paler. Fear shot through her. “Dad?” He was barely breathing. “Dad?” she repeated, her voice rising in panic.
“Rosie.” Pip was behind her. “I think …”
But he didn’t have time to finish. The door suddenly opened and the grunt appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Hey, Feral.” He called to Pip. “Long time no see.” He rested one large hand on the butt of a gun at his waist and from the corner of her eye, Rosie saw the barman reach below the counter. Faster than she could track, the grunt had the gun out and aimed at him.
“Don’t be stupid, barfly,” he said. “I don’t like cleaning messes.”
The barman froze and backed away, his hands up.
Rosie stared at the enormous man. Pip had been right; he’d just been waiting to corner them. She scanned the room, wondering if there was another way out.
The grunt chuckled as he came down the stairs. The drunk didn’t appear to have even noticed he was there.
“Got yourself a girlfriend,” the grunt said. “Help you escape, did she? Poor little Pippie can’t get away on his own.”
“At least I can get girls,” Pip said. “What was your last girlfriend, a nice little pleasure bot?”
The grunt grinned nastily at him. “Always the smart-arse. Don’t you remember what that got you?”
“Yeah, I remember. Real brave, aren’t you?”
Rosie saw the fear in Pip’s eyes. But there was also something else: a desperation to do something stupid.
“Don’t,” she whispered, but his attention was only on the grunt.
“Good dog, come to take me back, eh?” he said and the man lost his smile. “Yuang’s dead, you know,” Pip continued. “Whose leg you going to hump now?”
Rosie’s heart plummeted and at the same moment, Aunt Essie came out of the bathroom. The door banged behind her and Pip ran towards the grunt.
“No!” Rosie screamed as the grunt raised his weapon but the barman shot first. A loud concussive boom hit the grunt full in the chest and knocked him to the floor.
“Rosie!” Her aunt lunged for her, pushing her to the floor as Pip picked up the grunt’s weapon and ran for the door.
But the grunt wasn’t dead. He was getting up and Rosie watched in terrified amazement as he stumbled to his knees, then to his feet and took off after Pip. Within moments the door had slammed shut behind them. Trembling, she got to her feet.
The barman was still holding his gun. “Goddamn Helios maggots,” he said. “You okay?”
She nodded. “How did he get up?”
Her aunt answered. “Body armour and enhancers, not much stops those.”
Rosie felt sick with fear for Pip. Could he outrun the grunt? Would he?
Aunt Essie was the first to get herself together. “Where there’s one, there’s more. We’ve got to get those files into that com. Pip can only buy us so much time.”
Yes, the files. Rosie went to the comnet and pulled the pendant off. Pushing the disc into the slot, she dialled in to find the news agency addresses. She found five and just hoped someone would believe her. She uploaded the files along with a note that it was not a hoax and to check the real story behind the Enclave explosion.
“Done?” Aunt Essie was crouched next to her dad, worry clear on her face.
“Done.”
“Good,” her aunt said. “Now call the medivacs. Your dad’s unconscious.”
The hoppers arrived within ten minutes and within twenty Rosie’s dad was on life support. He’d stopped breathing in the hopper and the only thing keeping him alive was a machine. The MalX was back in his veins.
Rosie stared at him through the clear
glass of the intensive care MalX unit at the hospital. She was too shocked to cry and barely felt her aunt’s hand on her shoulder. She pressed a hand to the glass, listening to the muffled beeps of the monitors. It felt like everything, all of their sacrifices – Juli’s death, Riley, Pip – had been for nothing. She was going to lose him anyway.
“Come on,” Aunt Essie said gently. “Let’s get something to eat.”
Rosie let herself be guided to a seat in the small waiting room. She watched listlessly while her aunt swiped a card through the credit reader of a food dispenser.
“No drinks,” her aunt said.
“I saw a machine down the hall.” She got up. “I’ll go.”
It was very quiet on the MalX floor. You had to give the parasite that, Rosie thought; it didn’t make a fuss, just got on with it. Knock them out, suck them dry. There was no one around as she approached the drink dispenser and pushed the buttons for two waters. She was crouching down to retrieve them when a pair of grubby boots appeared in her vision.
“Rosie?”
She looked up and slowly got to her feet. Pip. Her pulse sped up, relief flooding her. His shirt was ripped and covered in dirt and there were scratches on his face, but he was alive. She wanted to fling her arms around him, and he took a step back from her as if sensing her intention.
“What happened?” she said.
His eyes were huge and he looked down at his hand. She saw a smear of blood on his knuckle. “I couldn’t go back, Rosie.” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t let him take me.”
He’d killed the grunt. She felt cold. What was Helios turning him into? She wanted to tell him it was all right but the words wouldn’t come.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. But he shook his head and met her eyes and she was shocked to see tears and such a depth of pain, of desperation. He was broken. She stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck, clutching him tight. After a second’s hesitation he hugged her back, lifting her off the floor and holding on so tight, she could barely breathe. He buried his face in her shoulder and she held him while he cried. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually he loosened his grip. No one passed them while they were locked together. Maybe they saw their grief and went another way, Rosie wasn’t sure, but for that at least, she was glad. She knew he hated her seeing him break down like that, much less anyone else.
