Under Falling Skies

by Kate MacLeod

  “—m’kay,” Scout mumbled, and she managed to wonder if her weariness were real or if she’d been drugged. What had been in that gun Viola had fired into all of them?

  Then sleep took her.

  14

  Scout woke to a low murmur of voices. She felt like she had only just shut her eyes—not a full night’s sleep by any means, but perhaps a decent, recharging sort of nap. The dogs were still out cold, both snuggled up close beside her. The air in the room felt colder than it had when she had laid down. She was used to that from nights when she slept outside. At least she wasn’t damp with dew.

  Warrior was still on the barstool, the featureless tablet again in her hands, although her thumbs were only occasionally poking at it. She tipped her head to glance back at Scout as she stirred.

  Liv had converted her hover bed back to a chair and was at the table. Either she had also brought a mug with her inside her chair or she had found one around the room, but either way she was taking long swallows of coffee between long murmuring exchanges with Ottilie. Ottilie wasn’t looking at her. She had moved from her spot on the floor to the bench at the table and was drinking coffee as well, but she never looked over at Liv even as she was obviously talking to her. Ebba and Clementine were still asleep against the far wall.

  Scout carefully extricated herself from the dogs, encouraging them to huddle together for warmth. Then she stretched out the kinks as she walked to the table.

  “Mugs are behind the bar,” Warrior whispered to her as she passed.

  “Thanks,” Scout whispered back, going to retrieve one of a mismatched set and bringing it to the samovar. She expected the conversation to die away as she approached, but even though Liv clearly saw her coming, she continued speaking in a low, earnest voice.

  “You don’t know what she did,” she was saying.

  “I know more than you,” Ottilie said, giving Scout the barest of glances. She hadn’t responded to Liv up until this point. Like she didn’t need to defend what Liv was attacking with unless there was someone else there to hear, and maybe to judge.

  So Liv was accusing Ebba again of poisoning them all.

  “I have as much reason as anyone to hate all Space Farers,” Scout said softly as she filled her mug from the samovar. “But not Ebba.”

  “You’ve known her less than a day,” Liv said.

  “Longer than you,” Scout said.

  “I know more than you think I do, both of you,” Liv said.

  “Is this like how you knew my parents?” Scout asked skeptically.

  “Yes,” she said, then shook her head. “No, actually. What I know about your parents, it’s just rumors and suspicions and a lot of things that would make so much sense if they were true. But this, I’ve seen proof with my own eyes.”

  “But you can’t show this proof to me,” Ottilie guessed.

  “Obviously not. I don’t have access to secure systems here. But I know I’ve seen her name in the Space Farer logs.”

  “She already told us she was in the military during the war,” Scout said. Then, “Wait—how do you have access to Space Farer logs?”

  “Some things have been . . . not exactly declassified but open to lower security levels than before for us here planetside. My department is trying to assemble an official record of what happened, a history of sorts.”

  “Her name is going to be historical?” Scout asked. Ottilie looked like she had wanted to ask as well, and she shot Scout a look of gratitude for not making her ask Liv herself.

  “Oh, yes. She was involved with many high-level ops.”

  “She was in communications,” Ottilie said despite herself.

  “Yes, she was,” Liv said, smiling almost too widely with glee. “She communicated a great many things. She was an intermediary between intelligence gathering and tactical decision making, and between tactics and the front line.”

  “What does that mean?” Scout asked, glancing at Ottilie, who shrugged.

  “Their chain of command is different than ours. I’ve never understood it, no matter how many times she’s tried to explain,” Ottilie admitted.

  “Her job was like the spinal cord in a mammal, carrying signals to and from the brain, which is tactical administration, right?” Liv said, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. “But say you touch something hot and jerk your hand away. You pull your hand away before you even really feel the pain, right? That response happens so fast because it doesn’t go all the way to your brain before you act. It goes just to the spinal cord, and the spinal cord sends the signal to pull away even before the brain processes the pain signals.”

  “And?” Ottilie said, growing impatient.

  “The same thing was true with your friend Ebba. Sometimes, time was short and she had to send out orders before hearing back from tactics.” Liv glanced over at where Ebba and Clementine slept on, and Scout wondered just how much brandy had been dribbled in that hot chocolate and if they both had drunk it. Then Liv leaned forward. “There were several key attacks where the decision to move forward originated from her, not her higher-ups.”

  “It was wartime,” Ottilie said dismissively.

  “She gave the orders that took out Wayfarer Crossroads.”

  Ottilie hissed and turned red, almost as if Liv had slapped her. “You lie,” she said, barely keeping her voice in check.

  “What’s Wayfarer Crossroads?” Scout asked. She had never heard of any such battle.

  “One of the first places to be taken out by an asteroid dropped from space,” Liv told her as Ottilie blinked back angry tears. “Some considered it a sort of proof of concept before the Space Farers started moving on to larger targets. Like the cities.”

  “Ebba did that?” Scout said doubtfully. “That doesn’t sound like a snap decision. Not like you just described it with the spinal cord and everything.”

  “There was an underground factory in Wayfarer Crossroads. It was where the big guns were put together. They were just finishing up a sixth gun when Space Farer intelligence discovered their location. Perhaps they felt it was aimed at them, I don’t know.” She smirked again. “You could ask her, I suppose.”

  “Damn you,” Ottilie growled.

  Scout frowned. Ottilie had said so many times that the war was in their past, and yet this new information seemed to burn her in a personal way.

  “Is that where your gun came from?” she asked.

  “The gun, but also Ottilie herself,” Liv said.

  Ottilie cursed, long and prolific but still under her breath.

  “How do you know this?” Scout demanded. “You whisper to me about my parents, you whisper to Ottilie about Ebba. All these accusations with no proof.”

  In the corner of her eye she saw Ebba stirring at the sound of her name, and she realized she had neglected to keep her voice down.

  “No proof? How do you think I know where you’re from?” Liv said to Ottilie. Ebba was sitting up now, blinking sleepily at the three of them clustered at the table.

  “My tattoo gives my squad,” Ottilie said. “We were pretty much all from Wayfarer Crossroads. Not much of a stretch to guess I’d be from there too.”

  “True enough,” Liv allowed, looking over at Ebba and the slowly waking Clementine. “So, if you don’t believe me, ask her.”

  “Ask me what?” Ebba asked anxiously. Ottilie’s red face had deepened to scarlet and Scout worried for the mug clutched so tightly in those scarred, muscled hands. But she did not speak. “Ottilie?” Ebba said.

  “I told her about Wayfarer Crossroads. Apparently you never had,” Liv said. “Just like a Space Farer to weasel in under cover of lies.”

  “You can’t prove anything,” Scout said hotly, but she fell silent at the look on Ebba’s face. She had already been pale, but now she had gone paper-white. “Ebba?”

  “What good does it do to rehash this now? The war is over,” Ebba said to Liv. She rested her hands on Ottilie’s shoulders, but Ottilie flinched away.

  “Is wh
at she’s saying true?” she demanded.

  “Ottilie, we agreed. The war is in the past,” Ebba said desperately, reaching for her again.

  Ottilie jumped to her feet to put space between them. “Yes, it’s in the past, but it’s not the furthest thing in the past.” Ebba looked confused. “You knew when you dropped that rock that my entire family was there. You knew that was where I was from.”

  “Yes, of course I did,” Ebba said, turning her hands palms up. “But you know—you’ve always known—it was a military target. It was a time of war. I know you understand this. The gun you fired—it could have struck one of the stations where my family lived as well. We knew that could happen. We always knew—” But her voice broke and she could say no more.

  Ottilie was unmoved. “You knew my family was there. You knew I might be there as well.” Ebba looked away, too quickly. “Didn’t you? Or did you know I wasn’t?”

  “I knew you weren’t,” Ebba said, so low they could barely hear her. “I always, always, always knew where you were. I lived every day in fear of having to give an order that would put you in danger, and every night I thanked all the powers that be in the universe that that day hadn’t been such a day.”

  “But my family. Collateral damage? Acceptable civilian casualties?”

  Scout hugged herself tight. Those words—did the Space Farers use those words up in space to describe her family as well?

  “Ottilie,” Ebba pleaded, but Ottilie flinched at the sound of her own name. The sight of her recoiling made Ebba gasp. Then she turned and fled, the doorway flashing orange as she ran toward the showers.

  “Viola didn’t arm that one, I guess,” Warrior said calmly as she watched Ebba disappear down the far end of the storage room.

  “The bathrooms are down that way,” Scout said. “Nice of her to leave us access without actually telling us.”

  “We’re better off with her far away,” Liv said.

  Ottilie shot her a look of pure hate.

  “If anyone wants my opinion, I think it’s extremely unlikely that Ebba was out to harm anyone,” Warrior said. “The war has scarred her; I guess now we know why. But she had put it in the past. You digging things up was a bit pointless. She wasn’t the poisoner.”

  “We can’t trust Space Farers,” Liv said simply. “Never could, but now that the war is ramping up again we definitely can’t.”

  “I don’t need you telling me who to trust,” Scout said. “I know what my gut tells me, and I trust her a lot farther than I trust you.”

  She took a drink of coffee, looking over the rim at Clementine still sleeping near the wall. Liv seemed like a muck-stirrer of the first order. What had she said to Clementine? Had it been so insidious the girl would poison them all because of it? If only she’d gotten a little closer, a little sooner, and actually heard something.

  Ottilie was taking long, slow breaths, moving step by step closer to Scout, away from Liv. Scout tried to give her an encouraging smile, but clearly what was troubling her soul was beyond such meager comforts.

  “She probably shouldn’t be wandering the place alone,” Warrior said, getting up from the barstool and putting the tablet away. “Viola’s safeguards, the possibility of another intruder lurking, just general mental well-being. We should find her.”

  “We?” Ottilie said weakly.

  “You, me, Scout and the dogs. I’m thinking you should be there but maybe not alone. In case she’s upset. When we find her, maybe Scout and I can head back while the two of you take a moment. But we’ll see where she’s at when we find her.”

  “Thank you,” Ottilie said.

  “The doorways,” Scout said with a vague wave of her hand.

  “I’ll scan each before we go through, just keep your dogs close to you. A leash or two might not be a bad idea.”

  Scout looked around at the shelves, found one with stacks of coiled rope, and used the knife from her back pocket to cut off two lengths into makeshift leashes. Shadow had been leash-trained, although it had been a few years since he had worn one; the training would come back to him. Girl, on the other hand, was deeply confused and prone to lunging forward to half strangle herself.

  “She’ll get the hang of it,” Scout said to Warrior, or perhaps mostly to herself.

  Warrior just nodded and led the way through the first door, through the narrow storage room to the locker room and showers beyond. Ottilie followed, head down as if her thoughts were too heavy for her neck to support.

  Scout looked back over her shoulder one last time. Clementine was still sitting on the floor, somewhere between asleep and awake, but Liv was already moving toward her in that silent hover chair, sliding into a position that blocked Clementine from Scout’s view.

  Scout just knew she was about to miss another mysterious conversation. She wished they had woken Viola to chaperone those two while they found Ebba.

  Did Liv have information about Clementine’s past as well?

  15

  The doorway between the second storage room and the locker room also flashed orange when they passed through it but didn’t stop them in any way. Scout supposed that somewhere Viola was getting an alert every time they moved and knew exactly how many were in each room, and probably exactly who as well. She hadn’t gotten even the smallest glimpse past the door to Viola’s private rooms, but there must be a console or something in there with her and Tubbins.

  The dogs saw the soiled pad still on the floor near the toilets and pulled toward it. She headed that way to let them do their business. Warrior walked along the far side of the room, looking between the rows of lockers. Ottilie hovered near the doorway uncertainly.

  “Ebba?” Warrior called.

  “I’m here,” Ebba said. Scout had expected to find her in tears, but her voice gave no hint of it. “Come look at this.”

  Warrior waved for Ottilie to follow, then disappeared behind the last row of lockers. Scout decided to use the toilet herself while she waited for the dogs to finish. This necessitated dropping their leashes, but they didn’t seem likely to dart off anywhere except possibly toward the litter box. When she was done she disposed of the dogs’ mess, washed her hands, and went to see what the other three were up to huddled in the back corner of the room.

  Scout hadn’t gone this far into the room the night before and was surprised to find the three of them clustered around a door standing ajar. It wasn’t a full-sized door; even she would have to stoop to get through it.

  “What’s that?” she asked, holding the leashes more tightly as the dogs sniffed the air.

  “Maintenance door,” Warrior said, putting something back on her belt. “It doesn’t seem to be locked or guarded in any way. But Viola must know it’s here.”

  “It was open when I came back here,” Ebba said. “Not all the way, just exactly as it is now. Only I thought I heard something moving around on the other side. I’ve been listening, but I haven’t heard it again. Maybe I imagined it.”

  “Maybe,” Warrior said, but she didn’t sound like she believed it. She took the light off her belt and flashed it through the gap in the door. “There’s a space inside the wall between this room and the next, and then another door. That one’s open too. If someone is sneaking around the place, why are they being so careless?”

  “Maybe it’s not a person,” Scout said. “Tubbins might not be the only cat. If Viola is worried about rodents, she might leave this open to let the cat hunt.”

  “Maybe,” Warrior said, but again she didn’t sound like she really believed it.

  “Ebba,” Ottilie started to say.

  “I’m not ready to talk to you,” Ebba said, an edge of hurt and anger to her voice that made Ottilie flinch away. “Should we check this out?” she asked Warrior.

  “It’s dark in there,” Warrior said. “It’s going to be hard to search if we can’t find some lights. Hold on.” She bent down to step through the door. The top of the doorframe caught the edge of her hat, pushing it back to dangle from wh
ere it was tied around her neck. She took another step, the door on the other side scraping loudly across the floor as she pushed it wider open.

  “That might explain why it was left that way,” Scout said. “Did you hear somebody leaving this room or just moving around on the other side?”

  “Just movement,” Ebba said. “Just for a moment. A kind of skitter, but I swear it was bigger than a cat.”

  They all bent and peered through the two doors to where Warrior’s legs were visible, taking little steps as she turned in place, shining her light all around her.

  “What is it?” Scout asked when she could no longer stand not knowing.

  “A hangar,” Warrior said. “Or it used to be. It looks like people kept abandoning things here until they choked up all the space. But it’s huge. Huge and cluttered. It’s going to be tough to search.”

  “Should we get the others?” Ottilie asked.

  Warrior dropped to one knee to look back at them, her lenses more like inky pools in the darkness, barely reflecting. “No,” she said at last. “It would be awkward for Liv to get in here, I’m not sure what use Clementine would be when she can’t call out to the rest of us, and Viola . . . well, I’m not sure how we’d get her attention just now.”

  “Do you have flashlights in your bag from the rover?” Scout asked.

  “No. There must be some here in one of those crates,” Ottilie said, looking back the way they had come.

  “I don’t want to waste time digging. We can split into two groups. I can see well enough in the dark. The other group can take my light.”

  “I’ll go with Warrior,” Ebba said before Scout could speak. She took the light from Warrior’s hand and gave it to Scout, not even looking at Ottilie.

  “Okay then,” Scout said.

  “We’ll head to the left, you two go right. Give a whistle if you find anything. And keep the dogs close to you. If it is another cat—”

  “Got it,” Scout said, double-wrapping the ends of the ropes around her hand and grasping them firmly. She handed the light to Ottilie, who followed Ebba through the doorway. Scout came last, herding the dogs through ahead of her.