by S. J. Higbee
I’ll bet they all reckon I’m spoiled rotten. Bet he pulled the same stunt over Elsbeth. Made out she was the sun to his planet. But anyone who really knows him must realise that he doesn’t orbit around anyone. Yet I’d fallen into the trap of listening to what he said about Elsbeth, instead of considering how he usually behaved.
Caressing her pretend dog, I looked around the room and whispered to the air, still thick with her perfume, “Sorry, Elsbeth.”
*
Later that evening, my formal appointment with George wasn’t going well.
“You still haven’t found any proof that Rick is skimming profits?”
“No. But then, I’m still working through my familiarisation programme with Diana. Whatever proof there may be, it’s hardly likely to be lying around where a newbie could pick it up, is it?” I tried to rein in my irritation.
George picked up a garish-looking snowman from his profusion of desk ornaments that flickered a greeting FROSTY SAYS WELCOME TO CALLISTO as he fiddled with it. “You seem very snug with Rick. It’s upsetting William, somewhat.”
And now we get to the nub of what’s twitching you. I leaned back in my seat. “He is my boss. I’m hardly going to get on the inside track if I come across as a sullen hellion resenting every second I’m stuck down there.”
George nodded and grinned back, putting the wretched snowman down. He glanced at his workdesk Inbox. “It’s been good to catch up, but if there’s nothing more…”
I stayed seated, coldly dismayed at Number Two’s clumsy attempt to head off this discussion. “I was hoping to raise the matter of a new heart for Officer Dain.”
“I’m afraid it’s out of the question.” George picked up the snowman, again.
“Why?” my voice was too loud, “I thought you cared about the people serving in the P’s. Officer Dain did nothing wrong and he’s dying by slow inches all for the want of a properly grown, organic heart.”
“Is that what the doctors said?”
“Of course not. They just say that he’s responding poorly to treatment. But we reckon that if only he had a proper heart—”
“When you’ve served your medi course and taken the qualifications, you can then come marching in here and demand what you consider to be the correct treatment.” George put the ornament down with a sharp crack. “Till then, I suggest you leave that to the experts, Elizabeth.”
Dry-mouthed, I stared at him. “You’re officially refusing any request for Rom- Officer Dain to have a new heart?”
“I’ve talked to the medics treating him. Not a single one reckons a new heart would make an atom of difference. They don’t deny he’s fading away. But they say that he’s given up. Happens sometimes.” George sighed as he rubbed his eyes. “And throwing pointless treatments at him won’t change that. Hearts are expensive because they’re difficult to grow. We give one to your friend and the next day someone comes in critically injured who really needs it, we’re guilty of condemning someone to death because he doesn’t happen to be your friend.”
I was winded by the unfairness of his wet-headed reasoning. “If Romeo hadn’t been my team-mate, he could’ve had the heart – is that what you’re saying?”
“No. I’m not. And you know it. You can’t have it both ways, Elizabeth!” His voice got louder, “When you have all the privileges and luxury of being the General’s daughter, you’ve also got to accept the downside. Every move you make on Restormel Base is going to be watched and commented on.”
I gritted my teeth. Of course! I grew up as the Cap’s daughter. I know the routine…
He might be trying to warn you about some particular dross about to fall on your head. D’you think of that?
Of course. As it happened, I hadn’t. But I wasn’t going to give Jessica the satisfaction of telling her. So shedding the attitude, I listened. Carefully.
“With all the recent media fuss surrounding you, folks are going to see just what a girl such as yourself has. While a lot of people around here have very little other than what they’ve earned by their solid hard work and effort…”
I had null tolerance for sitting through such dank sermonising, after enduring far too many of the Cap’s lectures.
“…all your clothes – those beautiful dresses, for instance.” He paused for a long sec, before continuing.
Yeah! Those sodding dresses cluttering up the cupboards. Norman said they cost a fortune. Why don’t I sell a few? And with the creds I can buy Romeo a heart – that’s what George is trying to tell me!
I let him drone on about my responsibilities. How I’d made a good start and that it would be a big shame if I messed up now by demanding scarce resources for my own select band of cronies.
Meanwhile in my head, I compiled a list of the dresses I loathed and would never wear again – it was a long one. Question is, where can I sell them? There’s that little shop where Fina took me to get my cosmetics. They stock ballgowns for the wives of visiting VIP’s who haven’t realised just how formal our suppertimes are, here… However, I didn’t want to be in the same galaxy if some business colleague’s wife turned up to one of Norman’s banquets wearing one of my gowns.
“I hope you understand the situation.” George got to his feet.
Our interview was clearly over. I cheerfully saluted him, before leaving.
On returning to my room, I figured the one person who’d know where I could sell the dresses would be Elsbeth. Yes, I know she was dead, but I reckoned she must’ve kept catalogues and fash-mags in her tabfiles. It was just a question of finding them…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I’ll say this for Elsbeth – she was tidy. If I’d owned so much stuff, it would’ve been crammed any old way into the flyer-sized storage space provided. Not so my sister. Everything was labelled and ordered according to colour, which made the task a lot easier. And my resulting discovery unavoidable.
At first, I couldn’t believe it. The expensive evening dresses rattled along the glide-rail as I flipped through them with racing heart and sweating hands. But thanks to Elsbeth’s tab notes pegged to each hanger, there was absolutely no doubt about it. All those beautiful, extravagant dresses the General had produced for me with such a flourish were second-hand – they’d first belonged to my dead sister.
Slumping onto the floor as grey, pre-dawn light brightened the sky, I thought back to that first evening. When Norman had presented me with that purple confection, it was all professionally parcelled up to look brand new. No wonder I’d looked like some starved fugee in it – Elsbeth had been a lot curvier. And suddenly Fina’s reaction when she’d seen me fell into place. As soon as she’d seen me, she must’ve known what he’d done. While I’d been busy turning myself inside out, worrying how I was letting him down…
The fickle-fingered, cred-hugging slimer! Jessica said it for me. And a whole lot more, besides. Which still left me aching with the need to punch his face till blood sprayed the walls.
Thrumming with fury, I stormed through the busy corridors to the gym and immersed myself in a mega-session of BalanceJoust. Battered and, aching in places I didn’t know I had muscles, I staggered back to my room utterly exhausted. To the realisation that I needed to get ready for work at warp speed, or I’d be late.
*
Zig-zagging across the aisle-faces, checking bins for actual product numbers against an ultra-long stocklist mightn’t have ticked everyone’s box, but I found it outright therapeutic in my current frame of mind. There was no way I could simmer about Norman’s lying ways and do a solid job. I’d long since stopped huffing about the boredom factor – if I was going to continue working in Procurement, I needed to recognise at least all the mainline products by their ite-codes alone. Diana and the laddercart pickers certainly could. During the last week, I’d been loading them onto my eardrop in blocks and playing them in a loop as I was going to sleep, while slithering around the shiny sheets in the mega-bed.
On one hand, it was encouraging how quickly I was zipping
through Diana’s list in comparison to when I began the task. However, it would’ve been helpful if this chore continued for several more weeks, while I dealt with the crud the General was currently flicking my way. In front of the vibro-knives bin, I paused in mid-count, considering whether to ask Rick if he could extend this job – before rejecting the notion, feeling ashamed. I’d all but ruptured myself on Star proving that despite being the Cap’s daughter, I could hold my own without any high-up assistance. It’d helped that my step-father would rather have sawn off his own foot and eaten it, than cut me any free air.
Now that Norman makes such a fuss of me, am I starting to lean on the fact I’m his daughter? An uncomfortable thought, particularly while I was so angry with him.
“Oy, Red!” Axil’s bellow hauled me back from my musings with the prickling knowledge that he wasn’t happy. He mostly called me Liz, only giving my newbie overall colour a mention when I was ‘a flood-up’. “You plannin’ to move into that floodin’ bin? Cos I’ll be chargin’ rent iffen you go on pronin’ round in front’ve it for ʼnuther light year.”
“Sorry, chief,” I yelled back, suddenly aware that while I’d been away with the stars, I was parked in front of one of the mainline product bins with a ladder-picker waiting to get to it.
“Feed your sorries to the floodin’ crows. Jus’ pick up the pace!”
“Stat!” Hauling my attention back to where it should’ve been, I completed the count and got out’ve the way.
After my BalanceJoust workout, I’d stiffened up so vaulting out of the laddercart proved a painful move. I eased my gloves off and flexed my battered hands, wishing I’d remembered to bring some bruise-kleer – and cannoned straight into Axil.
His big red face was scowling.
My heart sank. Normally he’d tell you what he thought in a voice guaranteed to carry into the middle of next week and then it was over. I must’ve really caused a major jam, earlier.
He folded his arms. “Care to s’plain?”
“Sorry, chief,” I stammered, “I should’ve been quicker. It won’t happen again. My word on it.”
“Don’t know ʼxactly what you’re babblin’ ʼbout. I’m talkin’ ʼbout this.” His thick finger grazed my cheek, which blazed with sudden sharp pain. “Who’s been usin’ a little scrap like you’s for a punchbag, then?”
I grinned, relief rolling through me. “Oh that! I majorly lost a BalanceJoust sesh, is all.” I was a bit thrown when his frown didn’t immediately clear.
“Start usin’ a lower settin’, then. I gotta a bunch’ve pickers frothin’ to show some quick-fisted dregger the full error of his ways. An’,” his voice dropped to a low roar, “know that bustin’ yerself up don’t generally fix what’s gotten broke. Most’ve us down here – we bin in bleak places and learned some hard lessons ʼlong the way.” He jerked his head at my bruised cheek. “That ain’t the way to go. There’s nuthin’ you done that deserves the kinda beatin’ you given yerself.”
I took a breath, hoping my smile looked better than it felt. “Gotta bit’ve a temper, is all. Figured BalanceJoust would knock it outta me.”
He nodded, his eyes too kind and knowing.
I swallowed, trying to ease the ache in my throat.
“Take the rest’ve the day off. See to them bruises an’ I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The notion of having to face Elsbeth’s room, crammed with her things – and those dresses –was unbearable. I babbled, too shaken for pride, “Please, sir. Chief. I’m sorry for earlier. I’ll pay more attention. I promise. Don’t send me back.”
He flinched, as if I’d struck him. “Flood it, kid! Don’t look at me like that. I got no choice. Regs is regs. I seen you crawlin’ outta the cart. My ol’ granny could’ve hopped out quicker.” He jerked his head towards the aisles soaring up to the ceiling. “Up there you gotta be sharp. Right now, you’re a floodin’ liability.”
I wiped my watering eyes on my sleeve, wincing as I caught my cheek, which seemed to have swollen to twice its normal size. “I understand. Sorry for causing a problem.”
“It’s prone with me, kid. Better just clear it with the Bossman before leaving, though.”
I’ll suck on hard vacuum before I ask that drossing double-dealer for anything ever again! When it dawned that he was talking about Rick, not Norman. “Stat. No problem.”
But in the event, it was.
*
Sitting in Rick’s office, holding a seeded gel pack against my swollen cheek and sipping his excellent coffee, everything tumbled out. He was an excellent listener, as I told him about Romeo needing a new heart. And that all the beautiful dresses Norman had given me had belonged to my sister.
He raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know they were Elsbeth’s?”
“You did?”
“Of course, I did! She’d spend hours poring through fash-mags, trying to find something that she believed would make her beautiful.” He smiled fondly, eyes focused back into the past. “She’d prance around her room, looking at her reflection from every angle. Plan exactly which wig and shoes to wear. What make-up. And rehearse her entrance.”
I licked my dry lips. “Then I turned up wearing her stuff.”
His laugh wasn’t amused. “You’ve no clue just what a flurry your arrival caused around here, have you? One minute William is locked in his room, puddling in a pool of brandy-fuelled self pity.”
That’s a harsh judgement of a grieving father…
“The next, he’s announcing that he’s off to bring his daughter home. The living one. Those of us still mourning Elsbeth were more than a little twitched, I can tell you. The, ah, more lurid events surrounding your family circumstances soon hit the babble zone. Base gossip had you nailed as a psychotic hellion who’d make Elsbeth at her disruptive worst look like Snow White.”
What! Coffee seared my mouth as I gulped it down.
“Of course, you being shunted straight into the Officer Training programme just confirmed everyone’s dankest fears.” Rick’s grin was wry as he sipped at his cup. “And Hugo Gently – in mother-hen mode – wouldn’t say a single thing, other than you were shaping up just fine.”
His smile faded as he fixed me with his gaze. “And then you turn up at Norman’s banquet. In one of Elsbeth’s gowns she’d worn as a youngster. A slight girl with more than a passing resemblance to her with huge, hurt eyes and a voice to make angels weep. I’d wanted to dislike you. To believe all the crud. But. There you were.” Leaning forward, he topped up my coffee. “And those of us who cared for Elsbeth were forced to admit that you were – are – a worthy successor.”
“No!” I was standing, Rick’s fine porcelain cup and saucer in shards on the floor, “I’m no one’s replacement. I am very sorry for your loss – for everyone’s loss. But I am not here as a sticking plaster for your grief. Or to fill a vacancy as the General’s daughter! I wouldn’t be here at all if Wynn was alive!” I buried my sore face in my hands and not Jessica’s most lethal insults could stop the tears.
At some stage, Rick came around the desk and held me. Not gripping me tightly, like Norman did. But gently. As if I was one of his pieces of delicate china. “There, there. I’m an ape-brain. Of course, you aren’t Elsbeth’s replacement.”
“But, that’s what he thinks. That’s what he wants. He doesn’t want me, at all. He wants his Elsbeth back.” I sobbed.
“I know, sweeting. I know…” He sighed.
The door hissed open.
Rick jumped away from me like a space-spooked cat and I spun round to face the intruder.
Bernal stood in the doorway. His pale beauty seemed otherworldly as he clenched his jaw to control his emotion.
“Bernal, it isn’t what you think!” Gone was the urbane man I was used to seeing. Rick was stumbling over his words, his eyes wide and pleading. I got a glimpse of the real man who’d loved my sister as if she were a daughter, while he poured out his soul to another edgy, damaged youngster.
“You promised! Y
ou said that you didn’t care for her!” The boy spat the words at him as if they were knives.
“I don’t!” His glance in my direction was fleeting. “Not in that way. But she’s in a hard spot right now and needs a solid friend.”
I hastily scrubbed my eyes dry. Weeping in front of Rick was one thing, but bawling like a fresh-smacked toddler under Bernal’s furious gaze was something else. Jessica will never forgive me.
“Pity the bod who gave you the beating didn’t finish the job,” Bernal snapped, hate for me pouring off him like heat off a volcano.
“Get out, Bernal. Get out, now.” The fumbling man of a moment ago was gone. It was Bernal who reeled. I hadn’t thought he could get any paler – I was wrong. His face blanched to a dirty grey as he stumbled through the door and shut it.
“You can’t leave it like that! You gotta tab him. Smooth things over and make it solid.”
Slowly, he shook his head. “The boy has to learn some boundaries. He can’t go around speaking to my friends like that.” Rick looked sad. “And he has to holster that jealousy of his. It’s not the first time he’s been unpleasantly unreasonable.” He suddenly turned his sun-drenched smile on me. “Now, shall we sort out these dresses for you?”
I was struggling to keep up. “You don’t mind that I want to shed them? Even though they were Elsbeth’s?”
“I hated the wretched rags. As if she needed all that nonsense to make her beautiful! William had so undercut her confidence she believed that she needed all that sparkle and trendedgery.” His grin sharpened. “He finds it very perplexing that you don’t obsess about your appearance in the same way.”
Not only that, but Rick knew where all those dresses came from. And in no time flat, he’d tabbed the suppliers with the news that fifteen one-off ballgowns in mint condition, complete with accessories, were available. While Rick haggled, a bot tidied up the broken cup and saucer and scrubbed the carpet clean. We had another cup of excellent coffee and I watched a master at work, until Rick had extracted an eye-watering amount of creds. I don’t believe Lnard, Star’s Procurement Officer, could’ve done better and he was a genius at cutting a stimming deal.