Terson sucked a great lungful of air from the shrinking pocket over his head and dove, abandoning the spacer to save his own life. He tugged at the seats jamming his escape, but could not find the leverage he needed to shift them. The urge to breathe overwhelmed him and he exhaled, giving up what air remained in his lungs.
The pod rolled again, and the wreckage blocking his path rushed toward him. A piece of debris tore the mask from his face. Seawater rushed into his eyes, but not before he’d seen what lay beyond the hatch—water. The pod had sunk, carrying Terson down with it.
Virene watched in horror as the pod went under. She stared at the spot it once occupied while the gentle swell of the ocean erased the ripples it left behind.
The comprehension of what had happened struck her heart an agonizing blow. Virene raised her fists to her temples and uttered a ragged, grieving wail. She turned a slow circle, searching the empty ocean for some sign she was not alone. Huge bubbles burst from the depths, carrying up scraps of padding and insulation. A moment later the body of another spacer bobbed to the surface, Terson’s muscular arm hooked in its life jacket.
Virene snatched a dock bumper and dove in, cutting through the water like an eel. She pulled his face out of the water and lodged the bumper under his armpits. Supporting his head with her hands in front of her, she used both thumbs to pinch his nose shut, clamped her mouth over his and blew.
Terson’s diaphragm tightened reflexively. Virene pulled away as his body shook, expelling water and replacing it with air. He came to and looked around with a dazed expression. “That was close.”
Virene slapped water into his face, though she felt like killing him. “Close? I told you not to go back in!”
“You did?”
She splashed him again. “Why do I bother? You never listened to me before; why should you start now?” Virene was too relieved to see him alive for her anger to last, however. She held him tightly when they got back on the boat, oblivious to the spacer still lying on the deck next to them until a rattle escaped from his throat.
Virene’s face went white. “Terson I-I think he just died!”
“See if you can raise the portmaster in Saint Anatone,” Terson said. She nodded and walked forward to the cockpit. Terson climbed to his feet, still shaky. The spacer hadn’t died, but Terson suspected he wouldn’t reach shore alive. He carried the man down to the main cabin and wrapped a blanket around him, then retrieved the woman’s body.
“There will be a medic waiting in port,” Virene said when he climbed into the cockpit. Her color was back, but her speech and movements were uncharacteristically directed and formal.
“I guess you’ve never seen a corpse before.”
“My grandmother, at a funeral,” she said, “but she didn’t look dead.”
The medics boarded as soon as they made fast at the marina in Saint Anatone, but pronounced the man dead after a cursory examination. “I suggest you grab anything you need,” one told Terson. “The police will seal up your boat until they decide whether or not it’s a crime scene.”
Virene came down while he packed their bags. “What about the tent and the rest?” she asked when she saw the luggage.
“We’ll go back for it later,” he said.
“So much for the honeymoon,” Virene scowled.
“I know a nice place up the coast,” Terson offered.
Virene buried her face in his shoulder. “Tell me nothing like that could happen to you.”
“I could,” he said softly, “but I’d be lying.”
“So lie.”
A tall, lanky man in a black jumpsuit stood talking to the medics at the end of the dock when they emerged. One of the medics pointed at them and his face twisted into a frown.
“Just great,” Terson muttered darkly. Virene put a hand against the small of his back.
“Behave yourself,” she whispered as the man approached. “Captain Bragg,” she smiled brightly. “We missed you at the wedding!”
Maalan Bragg had joined the Federal Police straight out of Malone and rose from beat rookie to lieutenant during his first ten years with Enforcement. He enjoyed the work, but the challenge ebbed quickly. Nivia’s low population and high standard of living didn’t make for interesting street crime. He transferred to the smaller, more challenging Investigation wing where he made captain. The workload was light, however, and most cases revolved around poaching and reproductive crimes. He’d requested additional duty as a Reserve Probation Officer for the filler more than the stipend.
Sometimes he wondered if it was worth it.
“I’d like to go a month without seeing you two professionally.”
“You were the farthest thing from our minds,” Terson said.
“I would hope so. Ms. Van Strahlen—”
“Reilly.”
“Excuse me. Mrs. Reilly, please wait here. Mr. Reilly, come here for a moment.” Bragg pulled a tiny microphone from his pocket and clipped it to his collar. “I’m required to caution you that this conversation is being recorded, and is admissible as evidence in a court of law. What were you two doing out there?”
“Camping.”
“In the archipelago?”
“A couple hundred kilometers farther out,” Reilly said.
“That’s outside the coastal boundary,” Bragg replied sharply.
“I know.”
“I see. Tell me what happened.” Reilly did so, though there wasn’t much more than Bragg already knew. The cargo shuttle had lost contact with Space Traffic Control during launch and fallen out of orbit. The remains came down far out to sea, and it was only a fluke anyone was near enough to attempt a rescue. He hoped it was just a fluke the rescuers were his own two problem children.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you of the prohibition on travel outside coastal boundaries,” he said when Reilly finished. “The marina has maps available. Check them.”
“Sure,” Reilly said.
Bragg withdrew the cassette. “Please sign here.” He tucked it away with the microphone and relaxed his official mien. “You need to stick to the rules, Terson.”
“We weren’t doing anything anyone else doesn’t.”
“Anyone else isn’t in your legal situation.” He gestured to the hydrojet. “That’s a fast, expensive boat. Some people might think you were poaching. Some poacher might like to have a boat just like it.”
“I’m not one of your juvenile delinquents,” Reilly said flatly. “I don’t need a lecture and I don’t need you to state the obvious. I know you can bust us for dirtying up your water and scaring the fish. We didn’t have to help!”
Bragg lowered his voice. “I don’t have any doubt that you can take care of yourself out there, but she can’t! You might know the risks, but Virene can’t begin to comprehend them! You got me?”
Reilly lowered his eyes. “Yeah, I got you.” It was the first time Bragg recalled him backing down.
“I’ll let you know when you can have the boat back.”
The young couple disappeared into the marina without looking back. Bragg leaned against the railing while he waited for the coroner and dug out a wad of raw tree gum, working it in his jaws until it softened and the victrotine spread a soft buzz through his head. He rationed his consumption carefully; more than two or three a day left an incriminating stain on his teeth and he’d catch hell if his wife found out he’d started again.
His training hadn’t prepared him for Terson Reilly. Most people on probation were first-time offenders, chronic losers or eighteen-year-old coeds out from under mommy and daddy’s thumbs for the first time in their lives and suffering delusions of independence, like Van Strahlen. Hard core criminals spent their lives in rehab or living beyond the pale of civilization and law, barely scraping out an existence in the wilderness—until the EPEA caught up with them. A few made it to the Beta continent, safe for the most part from even the EPEA. Rumors abounded of frontier communities full of criminals and social mavericks, rough and primitive; a pl
ace very much like Terson Reilly’s homeworld, Bragg suspected.
The coroner’s van huffed to a stop at the end of the dock and onlookers began to gather. The coroner captured the in situ images before Bragg helped slide the corpses into body bags and escorted them off the dock. Reilly hadn’t posted the hydrojet’s registration on the bow, and for once he was pleased with the kid’s noncompliance. If the media got wind of his record they’d have a field day.
Bragg had been Terson’s probation officer from the time he immigrated, and he arrived with enough strikes against him to make it a dubious proposition from the start. Between the chip on his shoulder and the look in his eyes, Bragg would have bet the farm that the kid would get deported or go beyond the pale in six months.
Bragg wasn’t far off. He had no doubt Reilly would be on the next shuttle out when they met with the magistrate. Good thing he hadn’t bet the farm on that. Something had gotten through when the kid realized what was at stake, but Bragg didn’t believe the kid was likely to change. Matters seemed likely to worsen when Reilly and Van Strahlen met.
Her family complained about their sweet, incorrigible reprobate dating a borderline sociopath and phig. Bragg suggested they stop paying her tuition and force her back home, half a continent away from her beaux. At least it would have gotten her out of his jurisdiction. They hadn’t liked that idea. They didn’t cut off the money until after Terson and Virene were engaged, but Reilly kept them both in school with his wad of Commonwealth credit.
Kids that age shouldn’t have that kind of money. Bragg spat the bleached wad of gum out the window. Reilly still walked the razor’s edge, but he’d been right when he said he hadn’t done anything anybody else didn’t. Lots of people cruised past the coastal boundaries without permits. Sometimes the Coast Guard caught them and slapped on a fine. Mostly nothing happened.
Bragg hoped it stayed that way. The cruiser’s integrated satphone warbled and he thumbed the connect button on the steering wheel. “Bragg here.”
“Maalan, this is Alan Chin. I need you at Saint Anatone General, Code Two.”
“On my way now,” Bragg replied, accelerating to twenty kilometers an hour over the posted limit. Alan Chin worked for the coroner’s office, and Code Two meant ‘Serious, Proceed With Reasonable Haste.’ “This isn’t about the pair of bodies from the marina, is it?”
“No, it’s worse. I’ll explain on scene.”
“Understood; out.” The absence of Chin’s usual banter was an indication of just how serious the situation was. He heard sirens as he turned onto the thoroughfare leading to the hospital’s main entrance and met two ambulances going the opposite direction. Overhead a helicopter made a slow approach to the building, waiting for one already on the pad to depart.
Another ambulance turned onto the street from the lot, lights blazing, and Bragg saw a line of emergency vehicles crowding the emergency entrance’s departure lane. Strangely, it appeared that patients were being transported away from the hospital. A pair of paramedics exiting the building with a patient confirmed his impression. He spied a patrolman directing vehicles and asked after Chin.
“He’s in Obstetrics,” the man told him.
Bragg’s heart rose to his throat. The Pediatric and Obstetric wing of every hospital on Nivia were veritable fortresses—any incident that occurred inside the enclave was by definition serious. There had been plenty of those over time, primarily infant kidnappings, but significant numbers of assaults on children as well. The most horrific had occurred in that very hospital fifteen years earlier when a deranged couple penetrated security with a number of weapons, targeting expectant mothers.
Eighteen were killed, not including the suspects, and nine seriously wounded before it was over.
The armored portal leading into the wing was propped open, watched over by the hospital’s own formidable armed security. They passed Bragg straight through with only a cursory inspection of his credentials and it was soon apparent why: every patient within had already been evacuated except for the dead.
Another pair of medics, accompanied by a security guard and a doctor, came around a corner guiding a gurney. The occupant, a woman in a nurse’s uniform, exhibited the vacant stare of shock or heavy sedation. The doctor held a file folder over her face as they left the portal to prevent her image from being captured outside.
Alan Chin was close behind and nodded toward a conference room when he saw Bragg. The man didn’t look good at all. “It’s bad,” he said once they were inside. “Seven dead in infant ICU and three adults upstairs.”
“How?”
“Unconfirmed, but it looks like a number of bad oxygen bottles. The three adults went first, starting about four this morning. They were all in pretty bad shape, so nobody got suspicious until it hit this wing.
“The monitors on the incubators alarmed at the same time—blood oxygen levels in all the infants took a nose dive. The head nurse on duty kept bumping up the oxygen levels, but that only made it worse. That was her you saw coming in.”
Bragg closed his eyes. It was difficult to shunt emotion aside when the victims were children, but it had to be done if answers were to be found and additional deaths or injuries prevented. “Who’s managing the incident for the hospital?”
“Doctor Lauder, the chief physician—that’s him now.”
The door opened and the doctor he’d seen escorting the nurse out of the building entered. His face was pinched and very pale. “How is she?” Bragg asked after the introductions were made.
“Distraught,” Lauder replied. “We’re all very upset.”
“I understand,” Bragg said. “Do you have any immediate patient welfare issues to take care of?”
“No. All patients requiring oxygen have been transported to other facilities and we’re not admitting any more until this is cleared up. I’ve notified them to check their oxygen, also. It will take us four or five hours to complete those checks here.”
“I need you to stop that immediately,” Bragg ordered. “It runs the risk of destroying or tampering with potential evidence.”
“Tampering?” Lauder grunted. “Do you mean to suggest that this incident was caused deliberately by someone on my staff?”
“I don’t mean to suggest anything,” Bragg assured him. “It’s a matter of forensics, and I’d appreciate your voluntary cooperation.”
“Yes, of course,” Lauder nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
“I’ll have a team assembled in a few hours,” Bragg said. “They’ll need full access to the area; it will be helpful if someone is available to unlock doors and answer questions.”
“Be honest with me,” Lauder said before Bragg left to start making his calls. “You don’t believe that this was deliberate, do you?” The look in his eyes made it plain what he wanted to hear, but Bragg had never been one to give false assurances.
“I hope not, doctor. I sincerely hope not.”
Terson and Virene returned to the disarray that was their new apartment. Packing boxes sat where they’d been left next to a dozen wrapped gifts from Virene’s friends. Several pieces of new furniture were pushed up against the living room wall, still covered in plastic. A pile of envelopes and circulars lay on the floor under the mail slot. Most of it was addressed to the previous tenant, but Virene sorted out a thick wad intended for the two of them.
Three were bills, the rest congratulatory cards from the same friends who attended the wedding and sent the gifts. Virene opened them excitedly, gushing over the sentiments expressed within, making careful note of the senders so she wouldn’t overlook any of the requisite thank-you’s. One expensive-looking, pearl-white envelope kept appearing in her hand only to be moved to the bottom of the pile. Eventually it remained the only one unopened, but Virene didn’t appear inclined to change that. Terson leaned over for a closer look.
It was from her parents.
Virene studiously ignored his questioning glance. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“No.”
“They’re your parents.”
“It’s from Mother,” Virene clarified, “and she expressed herself very clearly last time. I’m not going through that again.”
Terson found her family’s whole relationship confusing and contrary to what he was certain was normal for most people. The clearest memories of his own parents and sibling centered on their deaths and he’d never put much effort into holding on to them. A collective of Boss Hanstead’s household staff had raised Terson until Boss sent him to live in the hired hands’ quarters when he was fourteen. He’d never lacked for affection and support from the people around him, but they had families of their own and Terson had always believed that those children had something wonderfully special.
Boss Hanstead, a spouseless, childless workaholic had steadfastly refused to let Terson be adopted into any of those families, insisting that such attachments would leave him soft. The subject resulted in frequent, vehement arguments between him and his head housekeeper, Marta, the closest thing Terson had to a mother.
Terson felt a deep sense of loss for years after she died of a fever when he was seventeen. He found it incomprehensible that a parent and child could disappoint each other so badly that they would forever cut off all civil contact. He didn’t want Virene to miss a chance at reconciliation out of stubbornness.
“It might be her way of making amends for that,” Terson suggested.
Virene’s eyes glistened. “You can open it if you want.”
Terson felt like he was intruding on an exceptionally personal matter when he broke the seal, but he hoped he was right. The addressing on the outside held both their names, whereas Virene’s mother had declined to acknowledge his existence except in the abstract in all other correspondence.
The outside of the card was pristine and attractive. He opened it to find the pre-printed message carefully blackened out and the surrounding blank spaces filled with vicious insults in neat, feminine handwriting.
Pale Boundaries Page 6