by Adam Carter
“You look all right to me,” he decided to go with.
Her deepening glower told him that had been the wrong answer. It was one of the reasons Hawthorn had never much liked women: he was never sure when they wanted complimenting and when they wanted men to tell them they looked like hell.
“I was kidnapped and tortured by a crazed killer robot,” Arowana said flatly. “It chased me down, knocked me out, sliced into me with a scalpel, cut off my finger, blasted me with missiles, chased me again and wanted me to teach it how to be a living being. It also wanted to know whether I’m in love.”
“Are you?”
“My finger, Gordon. It sliced off my finger!”
Hawthorn could tell their time spent on Valetudo was getting to her, but whatever she had been through, she obviously believed it, so he could not simply dismiss it out of hand. Besides, he hadn’t told her about the dragon yet, and he was still not too sure he believed that one himself.
“Let me take a look,” he said.
She held up her hand.
“And the other one?” he asked.
“Why would I hold up the other one? This is the one without the finger.”
Hawthorn looked at the hand. Beside him, Hart went to say something, but Hawthorn shook his head at her.
“What?” Arowana barked.
“Iris, count your fingers.”
“Oh for the love of … one, two … oh.”
“Waggle them.”
Arowana waggled them. “I swear one was missing,” she said.
“And the torture with the scalpel?” Hawthorn asked.
Arowana lifted her shirt and prodded her skin, but there was no sign of any injuries consistent with torture. “But I remember it,” she said, amazed.
“You do?”
“I … Actually, no. I remember that I was tortured, but I don’t recall the actual torture. It was like I saw it happen, or read about it somewhere.”
“Or maybe dreamed it?”
“I wasn’t dreaming. If I was dreaming, I’d dream about something else, like lying naked on a beach, sipping martinis.”
“To be fair, I have those dreams about you as well.”
That, it seemed, had also been the wrong thing to have said.
“Don’t worry, Iris,” Hart said. “I’m sure you’re not going mad.”
“I’m not going mad. I … Maybe I’m going mad.”
“Hey, enough of that,” Hawthorn said, looking at them both. “We have enough going on right now without that kind of talk. No one’s going mad, all right? Iris, you thought you’d been tortured but it turns out you were wrong. That’s great, yeah? It means you still have all your fingers.”
“I suppose.”
“And the robot?”
“The crazed killer robot.”
Hawthorn wondered why she kept repeating that. It was almost as though she wanted him to be impressed or something. “Yeah, the crazed killer robot. You’re the one who keeps telling me they don’t exist. If anyone should have run into one of those, it should have been me.”
“That’s true,” Hart said. “All we faced was a dragon.”
Hawthorn winced. He had not intended to mention the dragon just yet.
Thankfully, Arowana did not appear to have heard her, for she was still furious over anything which came out of Hawthorn’s mouth.
“I didn’t imagine being tortured,” she raged. “Twice. I have no idea where the scars have gone, but I am not insane. I’m not.”
“There could be a simple explanation,” Hart said. “Iris, have you eaten anything lately?”
“No.”
“Had any water?”
“Only what Borissa gave me.”
Hawthorn opened his mouth but wisely closed it before anything stupid could come out.
“Malnutrition,” Hart said, counting things off on her fingers, which was, to Hawthorn’s mind, pretty crass considering Arowana still wasn’t convinced she had all of her own. “Dehydration. Desperation at being trapped on this world. And possibly an unconscious desire to be closer to Gordon.”
Arowana did not respond in words but Hawthorn had the burning desire to find an air-raid shelter.
“Could I take a moment to recap?” Arowana asked sweetly. “You’re suggesting I secretly want to get back with Gordon and the only way my somewhat feeble mind can think to accomplish this is to put myself into a hellish situation where Gordon’s going to have to ride to my rescue?”
Hawthorn whispered, “Be very careful how you answer that, Beth.”
“Yup,” Hart said. “I like you, Iris, don’t get me wrong, but your social skills are worse than mine and relationships frighten you. You’re more at home with punching things because it fits into your ordered little concept of how the world should be. Love is not something that can be quantified or analysed, it’s not something science could ever explain – although, pity knows they’ve tried. So, yeah, I think you’re physically and mentally suffering and the fact you still have all your fingers proves it.”
Hawthorn waited anxiously for the first ever volcano to erupt upon Valetudo.
“You’re right,” Arowana said, sounding genuine. “How can you possibly be so wise?”
“I hang around my forge, Iris, but that doesn’t mean I don’t notice things.”
“Great,” Hawthorn said. “All friends again. Where’s the robot now?”
“I didn’t think you believed in it.”
“Strangely, up until a little while ago, I was the only one who did. I always said some mad scientist must have created one at some point and that killer robots had to be lurking in all the dark corners of the Jupiter system, just waiting for hapless travellers to wander by. But if there was one here, I think we would have seen it by now.”
“It fell into the trench.”
“Ah.”
“Ah? Ah, meaning you think it’s convenient that you two can’t see it because I destroyed it?”
Hawthorn shrugged and left it to Hart to say something wise and wonderful.
Hart said nothing.
“I’m going back to the cabin,” Arowana said, still aggressive but too tired to continue the fight. “I need to sleep.”
“Slight problem there, Iris.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. But the cabin was, sort of, destroyed. By a dragon.”
Arowana blinked, looked to Hart, back to Hawthorn and said, “A dragon?”
“Yeah. Strange that, since they don’t exist, either.”
“Chinese or western?”
“Western.”
“Wings and fire?”
“Uh huh.”
Arowana shook her head. She was exhausted, it was true, but it seemed she was willing to get back into the fight. “So, crazed killer robots don’t exist, even though you’ve always insisted otherwise, but dragons do?”
“We were nearly killed by one.”
“Just like I was nearly killed by a CKR. Beth, did you see this dragon, too?”
“I did.”
“Which means we might all be going mad.”
Hawthorn laughed, then frowned. “What if that’s true?” he asked. “It could be the water, making us see things which aren’t there. Dragons don’t exist, nor do CKRs, yet in the space of a day we’ve seen both. If not the water, the air? Some kind of gas?”
“It can’t be,” Arowana said. “We went through a whole hallucinatory episode back on the Glory and were inoculated. Whatever’s happening here has to be real. Or else, we’re all going insane.”
The three of them looked to one another, none of them willing to veer towards either conclusion.
“I’ll prove it to you,” Arowana said.
“You want to descend the trench?” Hawthorn asked tentatively.
“No. That robot came down in a pod. A massive round thing. I think it was an escape pod. It had all these panels in the walls where a lot of stuff was stored. Food, water, medical supplies, benches. Torture equipment.”
“I’m sure I can find it. The engines were destroyed, so we won’t be able to use it to fly off this rock, but at least it’ll shelter us from when the storm gets bad again.”
“Whenever that’ll be,” Hawthorn said, glancing at the reasonably clear skies.
“About thirty seconds.”
Hawthorn chose not to reply to that. “Did it have communications equipment?” he asked instead.
“I don’t know. It had a computer, but it … it was broken when I found it.”
Hawthorn had the distinct impression that it had not been broken when she’d found it but that she had wanted to access it and prove herself better than Hawthorn and Hart at that sort of thing. However, he knew better than to say so aloud.
“You mean,” Hart said aloud, “it was working when you found it and you broke it because you were trying to prove yourself better than the two of us with that sort of thing.”
“Yes,” Arowana said and stormed off.
Speaking of storms, thunder cracked overhead a few seconds later and the winds kicked in. Hawthorn had no idea how Arowana had done that, but then there were a lot of things he did not understand about her.
They walked for only a few minutes before he heard a familiar cry. Looking up, he saw a massive, dark shape moving through the sky, heedless of the storm. It flew over their heads and Hawthorn ducked, even though ducking was hardly going to do them any good. He noted Hart was doing exactly the same thing, although Arowana marched on regardless.
“Iris,” Hawthorn hissed. “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“The dragon.”
“Where?”
He pointed upwards.
Arowana looked. “There’s nothing there.”
“Not now, no. It’s passed on.”
“Then why are you still whispering? And why are you crouching?”
Hawthorn stood straight and cleared his throat. “You know, I have the strangest feeling you’re going to get eaten by a dragon and Beth and I are going to be shot by a CKR, and we’re all going to be lying there in our final moments looking at each other, saying I told you so.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Because if I’ve been eaten by a dragon, I’m not going to be lying on the floor dying.”
Arowana resumed walking.
Hart shrugged. “She’s right.”
“She’s always right,” Hawthorn grumbled. “It’s one of the main reasons we broke up.”
CHAPTER TEN
They found the escape pod. It should have been a happy moment, for it was solid proof that Arowana was not going mad, that she had not imagined the robot thing. It should have united Arowana and Hawthorn, they should both have apologised and got back together there and then. Instead, Arowana had lifted her chin haughtily, Hawthorn had grunted something as he looked around the pod, and Hart was left feeling like bashing their heads together.
Bethany Hart had been through a lot, but she had never been looking for sympathy. Her mistakes in life were her own and it had taken a great deal of care and understanding for Hawthorn to make her see that she was not solely to blame for the sorry state of her life. She had killed and she would have to live with that guilt for the rest of her life. Hawthorn had a way of making her see herself in a different light. He looked at her as a victim, not as a former pirate, and Hart was at last beginning to think that if he felt so strongly about her being a good person, there had to be something to it.
She had decided to give it a go, to try to live a normal life. If she could change, she could see no reason for Hawthorn and Arowana to continue being so obstinate.
It was, of course, nothing to do with her.
The three of them were presently inside the pod, mainly because the weather outside was not too good. Hart was attempting to fix the console which had mysteriously broken, Arowana was exploring all the different hidden compartments and Hawthorn had gathered whatever food was in those secret places and was busy making them something to eat. They had already shared some of the water they had found, along with some orange juice which was perfectly preserved. She had paid little attention to what food there was on offer, for repairing the broken console was proving a time-consuming project indeed. However, the variety of smells coming from Hawthorn’s work was wonderful and she looked forward to taking a break that she might still her grumbling stomach.
“I found something,” Arowana said. She had removed some paperwork from inside one of the pod’s hidden compartments and was flicking through the pages. “Looks like a manual for something.”
It took Hart a few moments to realise she was talking to her, which meant Arowana and Hawthorn really weren’t on speaking terms.
Hart paused in her work to look, mainly because Arowana was shoving it in her face. She cast a glance over it and said, “I don’t speak French.”
“It could be an indication of where the pod came from,” Arowana said.
“France?”
“Cute.”
“Iris, French is one of the most widespread languages. All the large moons have French-speaking countries on them, and I’m sure a couple of the smaller moons are filled with nothing else. It doesn’t narrow it down much.”
“It’s a start.”
“What does it say?”
“Uh, it’s says … Oh. It’s a manual on how to boil eggs.”
“Who needs a manual on how to boil eggs?”
“Someone who speaks French, apparently.”
“What else have you found?”
“Aside from the food, water and medical supplies, nothing useful.”
“Have you found any eggs?”
“No.”
“So the manual’s just something random. Maybe this pod was stolen and filled with stolen property.”
“Someone stole a manual on how to boil eggs?”
“Maybe they couldn’t read French. Why don’t you take it to Gordon?”
“I think Gordon knows how to boil eggs.”
“It’d break the ice.”
“Only if they’re severely hard-boiled.”
“Would you please stop bothering me? This is the longest conversation I’ve had in quite a while and it’s making me uncomfortable. Besides, I have to go back to fixing this console you broke because you didn’t want to admit there’s something you can’t do.”
Arowana muttered something and walked off, shoving the French manual in a secret compartment as she did so.
It had indeed been a long three months, but the pod was the first real chance for them to end their nightmare and Hart did not want to lose the opportunity just because her two friends were having a pre-marital breakup.
“Beth,” Hawthorn called, “chow’s ready.”
Setting down her tools and leaving the wires dangling, Hart wiped greasy hands down her trousers and strolled back to where Hawthorn and Arowana were sitting. Hawthorn was on the floor, leaning against the wall, although Arowana had pulled out a bench. She appeared to have discovered a lot about the pod’s workings but did not have the inclination to share.
The food was far better than they had been used to and Hart sat cross-legged on the floor as Hawthorn spooned some into a bowl for her. The broth heated the bowl so thoroughly it warmed her hands that Hart was glad of it purely for this reason alone. There were chunks of meat in the stew which she imagined were not rat, and, in addition to the sliced carrots she was used to, there were peas and cauliflower and even some dumplings. It was all seasoned with a sprinkle of delightfully smelling herbs and Hart did not believe she had ever known a stew so fine.
Spooning a great heap into her mouth, she closed her eyes and tasted all the distinctive flavours. She may have made some strange noises as well, because when she opened her eyes aga
in both her friends were looking at her.
“This is great,” she said, holding up her spoon as though she was giving it a culinary thumbs-up. “I wish I could cook like this.”
“My father was head chef in a restaurant,” Hawthorn said.
“Really?” she asked, taking a second spoonful. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”
“It’s where he met my mum. She was a waitress.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“Not really. They worked for different restaurants. When the owners of both places found out they were secretly seeing each other, they told them to break it off, threatened to fire them both otherwise. I was raised in a very closed community where food is an art form. Their bosses were afraid they were passing along family secrets.”
“I take it their bosses were also their family?”
Hawthorn nodded while he himself ate. He did not seem to be enjoying the food as much as Hart was. “Of course, it didn’t help that my folks actually were passing family secrets to each other. They were like love notes. You know, a show of intimacy.”
“I take it they got caught?”
“Dishes from my mum’s family started turning up in my dad’s place and vice versa. The heads of each family went to war over it. Blood on the streets and everything. Giving away family secrets was a betrayal of the lineage and both sides wanted to wipe the memory of those recipes from the other restaurant. My parents did the smart thing: they ran away. Left with nothing but my dad’s shirt on my mum’s back.”
“Don’t you mean they left with nothing but the shirts on their backs?”
“No. When the fighting broke out, they were … well, shirtless. They didn’t have time to pack and my dad grabbed his shirt on the way out but did the chivalrous thing and gave it to my mum to wear.” He paused. “I never asked whether either of them was wearing trousers.” He shook his head, deciding he did not want to know. “Anyway, they hitched rides across the country and went into hiding as soon as they could. They never went back home although lived in constant fear their families were going to come after them.”
Hart continued to eat her stew. “Is any of that true?”
“Why would I make up something like that?”