by Kate MacLeod
Scout had thought, as Viola apparently had, that one of the dogs had knocked the bottle to the floor, but that wasn’t what had happened. The broken pieces were all around Ottilie’s feet, Ottilie who had been cuffed in a chair nowhere near the bottle on the table. But somehow she had gotten it, smashed it, and cut both her wrists to pieces trying to get out of the chair.
“Ottilie!” Warrior yelled, grasping the older woman’s head and tipping it back to look into her face. Ottilie’s lips worked like she was trying to form words but nothing emerged. Scout squeezed between the front of the hover chair and the doorway to stand at Warrior’s side. Ottilie’s gaze moved from Warrior to Scout. She was pleading with her eyes, tears freely streaming as she struggled to speak. Warrior ripped off her own shirt to try to stop the bleeding, but Scout saw the life drain out of Ottilie’s eyes.
“Why did she do this?” Viola asked as she and Liv drew nearer.
“Guilt,” Liv said. “For killing her lover.”
“No,” Scout said. “She wouldn’t have done this.”
“She couldn’t have done this,” Warrior corrected, looking at the fragments of glass all around the chair. “She couldn’t have reached that bottle.”
“Maybe one of the dogs did knock it down,” Viola said.
“Right into her?” Scout said skeptically.
“Anything is possible,” Viola said.
“But not probable,” Warrior said.
“Why couldn’t she speak?” Scout asked. “She cut her wrists—why would that make her unable to talk?”
Warrior tipped Ottilie’s head back again, gently opening her mouth, but there was nothing visibly wrong with it. Warrior’s fingers probed every centimeter of Ottilie’s skull, but in the end she just shook her head.
“An effect of the poison, maybe?” Scout wondered.
“We all had the antidote,” Viola reminded her.
“Nobody could get in and out of here quick enough to do this,” Warrior said, looking around the room.
Scout looked over at Clementine, who was halfway through yet another of the ready-made meals. She gave Scout a little smile between bites, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Warrior stood back up, wiping the blood from her hands on her own shirt. She looked suddenly tired, the skin around the lenses over her eyes drawn tight. She put a hand to the back of her neck and stretched.
“You liked her,” Scout said.
“Respected her, I guess,” Warrior said. “Come on, help me carry her to be with Ebba.”
Scout helped Warrior cut the remains of the cord from around Ottilie’s tattered wrists, then Warrior bent and lifted her out of the chair, throwing her over one shoulder and heading for the lockers. Scout followed behind with the bloody chair and Warrior’s stained shirt. Warrior laid Ottilie on the bench next to Ebba’s, folded her hands onto her belly in the same pose as her lover’s, and draped another towel over her. Scout pressed a hand to her eyes, fighting back tears. No one was loudly grieving, and she wasn’t remembering her own loss, but seeing Ottilie there with no spark of life left in her felt like a great wrongness in the world.
To think, before she came here she’d never seen a dead body. Now she’d seen three. And her heart pounded away, unable to slow back to normal.
She was terrified there would be more.
Scout took a deep breath and forced herself to drop her hand. “She didn’t do this to herself,” she said.
“No, she didn’t,” Warrior agreed, washing her hands in one of the sinks, then taking her shirt from Scout and soaping it up as well. “Liv seems very good at talking people into things. She’s been trying to manipulate you since we got here.”
“I’m not going to off myself.”
“Ottilie didn’t either,” Warrior said. “As much as Liv may have wanted it, that’s not what happened. I don’t think that’s what Liv wants out of you anyway.”
“Why would she want anything out of me? She doesn’t even know me. And it’s not like I have a fully equipped waystation or ties to the Space Farers. I’m just a messenger, a delivery girl.”
Warrior turned the shirt over in her hands, finding another darkly stained patch to scrub at, but her head tipped as she glanced over at Scout. “Is that what you are?”
“Yeah,” Scout said warily.
“Well, that’s what you told me, and I have no reason to doubt you. But just as a general-purpose warning: You say you have nothing. Okay, I understand. You’ve lost your family, it’s reasonable to feel that way. But given that, I would expect Liv to try to make you feel like you do have something. She needs you to believe that in order to manipulate you.”
“What do you mean?” Scout asked.
“She can’t convince a messenger and delivery girl that she ought to be helping Liv with whatever her game is. And believe me, she has a game,” Warrior added. “But if she can convince you you’re really something else. Well.”
Scout’s scowl deepened. She didn’t like where this conversation was going. She didn’t have to search her mind long to find a different tack. “Everyone was right there with us, everyone except Clementine,” Scout said, then bit her lip anxiously. Warrior just kept scrubbing at the shirt and Scout wondered if she had even heard.
“I think this increases the possibility that we aren’t alone,” she said at last, shaking out the shirt. The water droplets sprayed everywhere, but after four good thwacks she slipped it back on. It wasn’t as white as it had been, but it was quite dry.
“Clementine was right there with her,” Scout said.
“I was watching out of the corner of my eye. I admit I looked away for a moment, but just a moment. I thought I saw something on one of the monitors . . . at any rate, it wasn’t nearly enough time for Clementine to get up from the table, do that much damage, and sit back down again.”
“It’s more likely someone traveled from further outside the room and then disappeared again?” Scout asked.
“It’s problematic,” Warrior admitted. “I don’t know what we’re dealing with here. But do some investigative work on your own. Clementine doesn’t have a drop of blood on her. If she did that to Ottilie, how’d she move so fast and stay so clean?”
Scout fell into a sullen silence. She could see the logic, but she couldn’t bring her gut to believe it.
When they came back out into the main room, Liv was watching Clementine closely as she sipped at a mug and ignored the dog still intently growling at her. Scout shot Warrior a glance, and Warrior gave a conceding tip of her head, accepting Girl’s perpetual distrust of Clementine as another piece of information but not the conclusion. Scout sat down at the table where Ottilie and Ebba had sat the night before, eyes scouring every inch of Clementine even as her hand reached down to quiet the growling Girl.
Viola emerged from the kitchen with the samovar once more full of fresh coffee. She also had the last of the bread from the night before, some sort of nut paste darker than any Scout had tried before, and a little pot of honey. Scout’s stomach rumbled loudly and she eagerly reached for a piece.
“What happens now?” Viola asked, slumping into one of the chairs. Warrior had gone behind the bar for more mugs. Someone had cleaned up the mess—glass, bourbon, blood, and all—leaving a large wet patch on the concrete floor. No one was sitting too close to that. Warrior filled a mug of coffee for herself and sat down between Viola and Scout.
“We need to conduct a search. We can work together on that,” Warrior said, taking a sip of the hot coffee. The rich, roasted smell filled Scout’s sinuses, hinting at the full alertness that was waiting for her. She gripped her pasted and honeyed bread between her teeth as she reached for a mug of her own. Liv gave her a disapproving look, but Scout didn’t care about being unmannerly.
“I don’t want to start poking around the whole place,” Viola said. “I’m allergic to the dust.”
“You sure leave a lot of it around for that to be the case,” Liv said, wrinkling her nose as she looked around
the room. And she hadn’t even seen the state of the hangar.
“I leave it around because I flare up when I try to get rid of it,” Viola snapped, rubbing at her temples as if Liv were giving her a headache.
“You don’t have to poke around, I’ll do that,” Warrior said, taking another huge gulp of coffee as if the heat didn’t bother her and the taste didn’t interest her. She just needed to get the caffeine in her. “I want you on the cameras, in contact with me. If you don’t have radios or comms, I have a work-around.”
“I have comms,” Viola said, looking around at the shelves as if she weren’t quite sure where.
Scout took a cautious sip of the too-hot coffee, then quickly took a bite out of the crust of bread before the honey could drip onto the table. The dogs were watching her intently, anxious for any crumbs that might drop. Clementine was watching her just as closely, her hands folded neatly on her lap, as she had apparently finally finished eating.
“What?” Scout snapped at her. Viola and Warrior had pushed away from the table to find the comms and Liv was working the controls of her hover chair to follow them. Clementine didn’t say anything, of course, just summoned another of those unconvincing smiles.
“What’s your story?” Scout asked, moving her chair closer to Clementine. Girl gave a warning growl but was distracted by a corner of the bread that Scout tore off and dropped. She had to give another to Shadow before she could meet Clementine’s blue eyes again. “I don’t think Ruth knew the first thing about you. She was just room and board for you.”
Clementine slowly blinked, but if that was meant to be an answer, Scout didn’t know what that answer was.
“You’re hardly the only war orphan wandering the streets of the cities. Most of us found jobs of one sort or another, helping out on farms or in factories, doing whatever little tasks we can until we’re big enough for proper work. I’ve been biking messages and packages between the cities since the asteroid fell on my parents. If Ruth really was upset about the plight of all of us, why did she take just one of us in? Why not six, or eight? Why not do something actually helpful for all of us, or at least prompt her father to? A boarding school or something just to start. Why just acquire you like an accessory?”
Scout wasn’t sure, but she thought the corners of Clementine’s mouth were just beginning to crease, the start of a more genuine sort of smile.
Then Scout saw it: the light spray of blood that was still drying across the face of the cartoon character on Clementine’s T-shirt. She leaned forward to get a better look and Clementine recoiled, trying to cross her arms over herself.
She was going to obliterate the evidence! Scout leapt to her feet, catching Clementine’s wrists in her hands and pulling them well away from her body. Clementine stumbled back, knocking her chair over and nearly striking Shadow with it. Scout let the momentum of Clementine’s struggles pull her to her own feet. Scout was only a little bit taller, and Clementine was surprisingly strong given the bony spindliness of her arms.
“Scout!” Warrior commanded, and Clementine took advantage of Scout’s momentary distraction to pull herself free. She straightened, giving Scout a look of pure victory, which lasted for all of a half of a second. Then she was on the ground, Girl’s paws planted on her chest, the dog’s snarling jaws closing on the girl’s exposed neck.
19
“Scout!” Warrior shouted again.
“Girl, down!” Scout shouted louder still, and Girl looked up at her. Scout caught her collar to pull her off of Clementine, but it was too late. Her paws had wiped away every drop of blood.
“I expected better from you,” Warrior said to Scout, extending a hand to help Clementine to her feet. “What’d you put in the coffee, testosterone?” she snapped at Viola.
“It’s just coffee, and I’ve had more of it than any of you,” Viola said. “You don’t see me flipping out and attacking people.”
“I wasn’t attacking her,” Scout said.
“Girl certainly did,” Warrior said.
“Girl hasn’t been drinking the coffee,” Viola said.
“You said to investigate, I was investigating,” Scout said. “She had blood on her shirt. It’s gone now, but it was there. I was trying to keep her from wiping it away.”
Warrior looked at Clementine, but the fine spray was quite gone. Ruth had clearly given her the best stain-resistant clothing if even blood could be simply wiped away.
“It was there,” Scout said miserably.
“I believe you,” Warrior said. “But Scout, she was closer to Ottilie than any of us. And those were arteries that were cut. Severed, to be more precise. It’s not inconceivable that she got some on her quite innocently.”
“Well, then, what?” Scout said, irritated to find herself once more blinking back tears. “If nobody can prove anything, then what?”
“Oh, I think one of us can prove something,” Liv said, and her hover chair hummed closer. Apparently she had joined in the search for comms, but what she had instead was a small metal container, the sort used to store ammunition rounds.
“Was that in Ottilie’s bag?” Scout asked. She had seen several similar containers in the rover, stacked around the table and in the unused bunk.
“No, it was just over there, under the blanket of dust,” Liv said, hoisting it off her lap and onto the table. She grunted, laboring to move the container even with her well-muscled arms. Whatever was inside was quite heavy.
The color drained from Viola’s face, but she just sank to the table, reaching for the coffee with a sigh.
“What is this, Viola?” Warrior asked.
“More of Liv’s accusations,” Viola said. “It’s Space Farer credits.”
“They deal in physical currency?” Warrior said, sliding back the lid of the container. Scout leaned in to see stacks of gold coins gleaming inside.
“Mostly for off-the-book payoffs,” Liv said smugly.
“And quite useless here on the surface,” Viola said. “This was nothing more than a symbolic gesture. It doesn’t mean anything, just leave it alone.”
Like Liv was ever going to do that. She looked over at Scout and raised an eyebrow, as if the two were sharing a moment. Scout just scowled. “The coins have dates stamped on them. Some of these are wartime vintage. Tell me, did you get paid to look away when the asteroids fell?”
Viola flushed a deep crimson.
“Enough,” Warrior said wearily.
“All your talk of not being able to save the little people. This is blood money, isn’t it, Viola?” Liv asked, her voice saccharine sweet.
“I said enough!” Warrior yelled. “You”—she jabbed at finger at Liv—“stop talking. And you,” she said, jabbing the finger in Viola’s direction, “give me the codes for the door to the kitchen. We need something more calming than coffee.”
“I’ll fetch it,” Viola said, getting up from the table. She hadn’t yet defended herself from Liv’s latest accusation but her hands were shaking as she placed them on the table to push herself to her feet. She crossed to the kitchen door and appeared to whisper something to the wall. This doorway was not just protected by her security systems, it also had a heavy hatch she could slam shut and seal herself inside if she were so inclined. Warrior saw it too. She started to step through the doorway.
“No, the girls can get it,” Warrior said, taking a seat at the table and motioning Viola to sit back down in the chair across from her. Liv was parked at the head of the table again, hands steepled as she watched the others move around her.
“I don’t want to go in there with her,” Scout said, glaring at Clementine.
“You’re going to keep an eye on each other. Make us all some tea and find some soothing sort of snack. Girl can stay here with me,” Warrior said, extending a hand to the dog until she crept over to sit at her side and keeping her there by feeding her little crumbs from the tabletop. Shadow followed Scout towards the kitchen. He didn’t growl at Clementine, but he didn’t take his wary eye
s off her either. “And take your time,” Warrior added.
Scout paused to give a sharp nod, then followed Clementine into the kitchen.
Clementine opened all the cupboards, her gaze sweeping over all the contents before she started selecting items. Scout filled the kettle from the sink, watching Clementine out of the corner of her eye as the girl opened box after box of crackers, cookies, and hard biscuits, arranging a few of each into an elaborate pinwheel pattern on a large serving platter.
“Nice,” Scout said, not as sarcastically as she had meant to. “This is the sort of skill one acquires when living with the governor’s daughter, I suppose. High-level entertaining.”
Clementine gave a little shrug, the closest Scout had yet seen her come to actually communicating. She carried on arranging her tray as Scout spooned loose-leaf tea into another samovar and waited for the kettle to come to a boil.
“So these are gifts?” she heard Warrior asking in the other room.
“Yes, but not for me,” Viola said. “I just gather them up when they fall from orbit and store them here.”
“For whom?” Liv asked.
“For no one, really,” Viola said.
Clementine caught Scout’s eye and smirked, just a little uplift of one corner of her mouth. Scout gave a little nod; yes, Viola was being maddeningly evasive.
“Spill it, Viola,” Warrior said, apparently thinking much the same.
“They were for my mother,” Viola said in a rush. “She’s been dead and gone for decades, happily married for decades before that. But when she was young she went to the capital on a purchasing trip and met a Space Farer who fell for her hard. He never had a chance with her, she had already met my father, but that never stopped him from sending her all these gifts. The coins, the bourbon—anything here that’s not from here is from him.”
“Who is he?” Liv asked.
“I don’t know,” Viola said. “He signs the cards ‘your lover who dwells above,’ but I don’t know his real name.”