Dying For Space

by S. J. Higbee

  “Thank you,” I spluttered, “that’s amazing! I’d be able to buy two hearts for Romeo with that amount.”

  “Don’t,” came back the reply. “Hide the rest away in an account where you can get hold of it. If I were you, I’d put it in another name and use some of it to buy yourself another ident. And tell no one where it is.”

  I swallowed. “Think it might come to that?”

  He waved in a familiar negligent gesture. “Who knows? While living alongside a character like William, such precautions are advisable.” He stood up and with a rueful grin, gestured towards his desk. “Much as I’d like to continue with this, I do have a mountain of chores stacking up. Take the afternoon off and get those dresses boxed. You’ll find all the packaging they arrived in stored in one of the bins over the wall cupboards next to the bathroom. Tab me when they’re packed and I’ll arrange for them to be collected. They can go out on the daily transporter tomorrow morning.”

  I left his office, trying not to look at Bernal’s empty workdesk. After promising Riona in a whisper that I’d fill her in on all that had gone down in Rick’s office, I returned to Elsbeth’s room.

  Packing up those dresses was tiring. You’d be surprised at just how heavy a froth of lace and ruffles can be. But I felt air-free while getting rid of them. It might’ve been my imagination, but I sensed my sister in the room alongside me that afternoon and that she approved.

  I’m glad I gave that info-nugget a mention to Rick when I tabbed him with the news that the dresses were ready to go. His face lit up in a pleased smile – one of his genuine ones. Fifteen minutes later, the door-tune wailed a vile-rave riff. After freezing Fido, I opened the door and sure enough, there was a man with a trolley-bot train. By the time we’d loaded it up, four trolleys were stacked with the dresses, shoes, wigs and bags that Elsbeth had needed to believe in herself. I had twelve dresses left, which Fina and I had chosen to be altered or bought new. Which were plenty, I decided.

  After he left, I took a shower and smeared bruise-kleer everywhere, especially on my face. Did I have any notion what was about to come down on us? Nah. Because while I was getting ready for dinner that evening, I was in a particularly chirpy mood. Fido was frisking around the room and I was singing along to one of Elsbeth’s vile-rave tunes that had started to grow on me, when the vile-rave riff rang out, again.

  I reluctantly froze Fido, thinking that at this hour it was probably Norman.

  It wasn’t.

  George stood in the doorway, looking ill. Alongside him were two men in Enforcer uniform. My stomach lurched. Am I too late – has Romeo gone?

  “Good evening, Elizabeth. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings. May we come in?”

  It’s Romeo. He’s dead… Numbly, I stepped back, let them in and sank into a huge chair, for once glad of its size. A kaleidoscope of memories surrounding Romeo was shuttering through my head. Romeo laughing as he attempted to sweet-talk me into his bed… Romeo helping David get over the obstacle course… Romeo sprawling on the grass as we revised for our Finals…

  Number Two was talking, “My sad duty to tell you that…”

  I dug my fingers into the soft cushions.

  “…he will be sadly missed. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that Rick’s death is a catastrophe for the P’s…”

  What! “That’s not right. It’s Romeo – isn’t it? That’s what you came to tell me. That Romeo died.” My voice was way too loud. And got louder. “Not Rick. It can’t be Rick. I just was…”

  George’s face twisted. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. Rick was murdered in his office. After work this evening. And as one of the last people who spoke…” He continued talking, but I was no longer listening.

  I’d lurched to the bathroom to vomit. Though it was hard, because nothing remained of the excellent coffee Rick and I had shared, only four hours earlier. Just bitter-tasting bile.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When I staggered back into Elsbeth’s room, after swilling my mouth, Number Two and the Enforcers were still there. Waiting.

  One of them stood up. “Good afternoon, Miss Norman. I’m sorry for your loss. However, as Mr Kelbee was murdered, and it appears that you were one of the last people to be in direct contact with him, we need to ask you some questions.”

  “Of course,” I croaked, feeling shunted sideways into a nightmare.

  They asked about our chat in the office. Everyone in Procurement had mentioned it, apparently.

  I’ll bet, Lizzy—

  Slam it shut, Jessica! She did.

  Meantime, I answered their questions. There were a lot. They wanted to know about our upset in Rick’s office. Still reeling, I answered, “Rick called me Elsbeth’s replacement. And I lost it. Threw my coffee cup on the floor and told him I wasn’t anything of the sort.”

  George’s eyes bulged at that one. After the Enforcers left, he lingered. “You found anything else down in Procurement I need to know about before all this goes official?”

  I shook my head. “With Rick gone…” That sounds so wrong on so many levels. I took a breath, before managing, “Does all that really matter anymore?”

  George looked like he’d just sucked on hard vacuum. “It’s a question of damage control. I want to spare William as much as possible over this business.”

  “The folks down in Procurement will need a fair amount of handholding, too.” I didn’t exactly snap, but it was close. Norman can look after himself – what about the likes of Diana?

  “You certainly have become a solid team member, down there,” George commented.

  I threw up my hands. “Which I thought you wanted! Get on the inside track – work out what’s going down. That’s what you asked me to do. And now this…”

  He heaved a sigh before replying, “You’re right. My apologies. It’s been a hard evening. And for what it’s worth, you’re also right to be concerned about the department. I’ll leave you in peace. Take care, Elizabeth.” With that he left.

  Collapsing onto the floor, I laid my head on Fido, grateful all over again for Rick’s kind assistance in getting him working properly. Wish I’d known him longer…

  The door-tune wailed.

  I was feeling distinctly third-hand by now. Up before dawn and being knocked about by a Level 9 Combat avatar had more than caught up with me. I considered leaving the guards to handle whoever it was, before it started skirling in alarm-mode. Groaning, I froze Fido and staggered to my feet, feeling like I’d been spat out of a black hole.

  Opening the door, I was engulfed in Norman’s bear hug. I squeaked in agony as he jabbed every sore spot I’d collected during my sad attempt to fight off my fury.

  “Lizbeth! Are you solid?” Scowling, he gripped my face.

  I winced as he caught my tender cheek.

  “What’s this – you taken a beating? Those bilge-rats do this when questioning you? Because I gave specific orders it wasn’t to be that kind of interview…”

  I escaped from his painful embrace. “No. I just got a pummelling on BalanceJoust.”

  His stare scoured my soul. “You’re far too obsessed with that game.”

  I wiped my eyes. “Isn’t it dreadful about Rick?”

  “It’s a prodding mess, is what it is.” Producing a cigar, he lit up. “We’re going to have to massage the truth, somewhat,” he growled between puffs

  That won’t pose any difficulties for him, now. Will it?

  Zoning out Jessica’s caustic comment, I asked, “Why?”

  He looked down on me, evidently disappointed at my fuse-brained obtuseness, “Think! We collect creds from people to protect them from murderous spawnlings – and we can’t keep our own Procurement Director safe right in the heart of our Headquarters?” He blew out a cloud of blue smoke. “Especially as the killer was that waste of space and oxygen sharing his bed.”

  Which was how I got to hear that I was the indirect cause of Rick’s death. If I hadn’t gotten angry and cried, he wouldn’t have comforted me. A
nd Bernal wouldn’t have become lethally jealous. It was the final blow to knock me out of orbit. I crumpled into the nearest chair, weeping.

  Norman started pacing. “And you need to pull it together! You can’t implode every time anyone around you dies. Not here. Too many people leave on missions and don’t come back.”

  “He… was so very kind…” I sobbed.

  “He was also a thief we were gonna let go sometime very soon. After bouncing him off the walls till he gave up the creds he’s been pocketing,” he snarled.

  What! I raised my tear-sodden face. “But Rick was your Procurement Director since forever.”

  Norman flicked his ash onto Fido as he swept past him. “But he didn’t take it well when Elsbeth gave him the flickoff. And, since her death, he’s been increasingly difficult. George found him a godding nightmare to work with when I was away.”

  And this is what you’re dealing with! Elsbeth never gave him the flickoff – they didn’t have that kinda relationship.

  Zoning out Jessica’s rant, I recalled Rick’s advice with a sick twist, Hide the rest away in an account where you can get hold of it. If I were you, I’d put it in another name and use some of it to buy yourself another ident.

  Is that what he did? Except he didn’t have any spare creds, so he decided to take them. Oh, Rick, what a chem-brained stunt to pull! On Norman, of all people…

  Whose skewer-sharp gaze was fully trained on my face. “And what have you just realised, my girl?”

  No point in lying – Rick is beyond Norman’s fury, now. “He said something earlier. And after your info-nugget, I believe he was getting ready to leave.”

  “With a stack of our hard-earned creds, the double-dealing prodder! After all this time and all we’ve been through.” He sighed, for a minute sagging into someone saddened by Rick’s betrayal. Before he straightened again, adding, “Just goes to show. George is always bleating that I should be more trusting. And when I am – look what happens!”

  Pull yourself out of this crying-jag, Lizzy. You need to stay pin-sharp around him. Always

  Taking Jessica’s advice, I mopped my eyes and resisted the temptation to unfreeze him, as Norman continued using Fido as an ash-tray while he strode around the room. “How far does the rot go in Procurement, d’you think? Will we have to let all those dregging adminites go?”

  “Why do a thing like that?”

  Norman spun round, narrowly missing the auto-massager. “Every one of them down there acts as if Kelbee was Lord God, Himself. At least some of them must’ve been in on his thievery.”

  “I reckon Bernal was on the inside track. But as for the others? I don’t believe it.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “And you, with all your vast experience of these things, would know what to look for, I take it.”

  I locked looks with him. “As it happens, I reckon I do. The General’s daughter descends on these people, all set to work alongside them. If any of them were part of Rick’s scam, they’d be wetting themselves. And they weren’t. Apart from Bernal, that is.” Don’t care that I’m throwing him out’ve the airlock, the murdering zilcher…

  “You seem very sure, Lizbeth.”

  “I am.”

  Norman favoured me with his carnivorous grin. “Willing to vouch for them, are you?”

  He’s digging a hole for you, Lizzy. Careful…

  My voice came out a little too loud, “I’ll vouch for them. Apart from anything else, with Rick and Bernal gone – you let any more staff go, there’ll be no Procurement worth the name. And the P’s will slide to a stop within a couple of days.”

  His grin broadened. “It does my heart good to see that oh-so-sharp mind of yours still working.”

  I flushed at his praise. Before wriggling with guilt that I felt anything other than grief so soon after Rick’s death. “With Rick murdered by his lover and work colleague, the journos are going to be swarming all over Procurement. Just imagine their jabber if you flush the rest away.”

  He nodded, approvingly. “A point David made, by the way.”

  I slumped back into the chair, exhausted.

  Another of your tests, General. I recalled Mum’s bitter comment that last, awful time I’d seen my parents.

  And he’d replied without a flicker of shame, Of course, Abi. Always. At the time, I hadn’t realised just how draining it was to be constantly judged. No wonder she had sounded so sour.

  Norman crossed the room and was opening the door, when he looked back. “Dinner will be half an hour later, tonight. And you need to be wearing black. Of course.”

  “Of course,” I echoed, tired to my marrow. And now faced with the putrid prospect of shopping for a black dress.

  *

  Next morning, I heard hysterical crying before I reached Procurement. Riona was howling like a colicky baby and Diana was trying to comfort her. Others were weeping quietly, seated at their stations. The uniformed guard making like a statue outside Rick’s office didn’t help the atmosphere of calamity.

  Holed heavens! Norman marches in with a team of auditors and these people will implode.

  Riona jumped up and flung herself on me. “Elizabeth! We’ll never see Riiiiick...”

  Disentangling her, I raised my voice over her bawling, “I got some news about what’s happened. But…”

  “Prod it, Riona – either swallow it down, or go outside!” bellowed Finley.

  She shot him a reproachful look, but subsided into a series of hiccupping shudders as everyone gathered around.

  “Firstly, Bernal has been arrested for murdering Rick…”

  “Well, I knew that—”

  “Never trusted him—”

  “Yeah, but what’s gonna happen—”

  And now comes the hard bit… “Unfortunately, there’s another complication. We all know that Bernal had poor Rick tied round his littlest finger—”

  Diana frowned. “Oh, I’m not sure…”

  Knowing the career of everyone in the room hung in the balance if I blixed this up, I desperately stumbled on, “Which was probably why he persuaded Rick to appropriate some of the P’s’ funds.” Do they believe me?

  Diana’s face was grey, her hand pressed over her mouth. No interruptions, now. Apart from Riona’s half-stifled sobs, you could’ve heard a hover-chair glide.

  I made eye contact with everyone in the room. “It could have been all Bernal’s doing. Although I wasn’t here, I know just what a hold he had over poor Rick. Maybe the reason why he stabbed him to death, was that Rick wanted out of his shoddy scheme…”

  “That’s what happened! The scumsac was using Rick to get his slimy hands on the creds. And when Rick wouldn’t go along with it, he killed him!” Riona’s tear-thickened voice rang around the empty space.

  Diana looked across at me, clearly unhappy with this version, but just pinched her lips together, saying nothing. I felt limp with relief when everyone else nodded, deciding they realised all along that the scumsac was dishonest as well as an upswept waste of space and oxygen.

  I continued, “Obviously, the next few days and weeks are going to be very hard for us. But I assured the General that everyone here would do their solid best to keep the P’s going. You don’t need me to tell you that in parts of Sector Two, it is only our outfit keeping life bearable for the civis stuck there, now that those limp-livered Earthers have scuttled back to Homespace like the long streaks of yellow water they are.”

  The atmosphere lightened by a micron as everyone murmured agreement.

  “If we in Procurement don’t keep our people tooled, they start dying. Along with innocent women and children.”

  No one was looking doubtful, now.

  “Rick,” I faltered, swept with an aching need to see him appear at the door of his office and smile at us all, before continuing, “would want us to carry on. He called us a family. His family. Let’s show the world that whatever offal the journos start jabbering – he ran a solid team, here.”

  The faces staring back
at me were resolute with purpose. I let out a breath as my stomach unknotted. I’ve done it. One of my more wet-witted notions – I’d done nothing, except ensure no one else got sucked into the supermassive black hole surrounding this business. The rest of it was just beginning...

  *

  Even now, I look back on the next three weeks with a shudder. All credit to them, Rick’s team in Procurement pulled together and put in way more hours than anyone had a right to ask. Though we’d never have survived those first terrible weeks so smoothly, were it not for a few lucky breaks. The first was that David headed the auditing team tasked with reaming Procurement to investigate the full extent of Rick’s fraudulent dealings. He never so much as made solid eye contact with me, but still managed to give the Procurement team sufficient wriggle-room to continue fulfilling the requisitions raining down on us from the over-stretched merc fighting force, right across Sector Two – which, I’ll remind you – is by far the biggest of all the four Sectors of Humanspace.

  The second crumb of luck was delivered by an unexpected source. Bernal requested to see me the night before his inevitable death sentence was due to be carried out, only sixteen days after he’d murdered Rick. The trial had been conducted in secret, which aggravated Riona. Personally, I was relieved. We didn’t have time to attend murder trials and it was enough for me to know that he would account for his vile crime.

  Gritty-eyed and aching with exhaustion, I was completing an urgent order of torpedoes for the fleet of patrol vessels patrolling the boundary with the Eaties. I’d felt queasy when a Reminder shrilled onto my desk an hour previously. A small armada of privateers had holed up in the asteroid belt created by the aliens’ godless weapon. If our pursuit vessels ran short of ammo, they’d be in a world of trouble. Especially as the initial rec had somehow slipped through the cracks in all the chaos.

  And then Bernal’s message dropped into my eardrop. Hah! Hope he’s climbing up the walls, right now. Hope that he’s puddling into a fear-stoked mess. There’s no way I’m going to help him out’ve it. He’s fully getting what he deserves…