Degrees of Wrong

by Anna Scarlett

  much conditioner into my hand.

  “I wish you’d just tell me what he’s done. Surely there’s an explanation—”

  “Stop that.”

  She laughed. “You’re not going to budge.”

  “Nope.”

  “Well. Should I tell him he can expect you shortly?”

  “You can tell him he can expect me whenever I get around to it.”

  Still, I stood at the entrance of his office in less than half an hour. I entered and found him sitting on his desk, smiling at me. He’d been expecting me—

  compliments of Dr. Folsom, no doubt. I assured myself he was just lucky I’d

  shown up at all.

  I rubbernecked the room, and ascertaining we were alone, stalked toward

  him, eyes narrowed to almost shut. “You.” The single word seemed inadequate

  for the way I felt, but I made up for it in the delivery.

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  His grin wavered, then grew even wider. “Er, Dr. Morgan. So good to see

  you this morning.” As I opened my mouth to contradict his statement, he cut me

  off. “We’re actually in conference with an old friend of yours.” He gestured to

  the wall behind me. I turned, confused—I’d been sure we were alone.

  A life-sized, three-dimensional hologram of Ralph materialized in one of the

  chairs at the table, filling the room with a pale blue glow. Sometimes the image

  glitched, disfiguring him for the slightest of seconds. He’d abandoned his black

  regimentals in favor of an impressive, decorated uniform which, in person,

  might be a crisp white. In any case, the man emanated authority—an effect

  compounded by the medley of ribbons and medals covering most of his torso.

  He smiled at me. I could see through the image to the bookshelf behind him.

  “Dr. Morgan,” he said. “It feels like years since I’ve seen you. I trust you’re doing well.”

  Postponing my planned altercation with Nicoli, I strode toward Ralph.

  “Ralph.” I smiled.

  “Please have a seat, Dr. Morgan.” Ralph motioned to the chair closest to me.

  When Nicoli took the seat next to me, I scooted away from him, nose upturned.

  Ralph noticed. “Are you doing well, Dr. Morgan?” he asked with meaning.

  “Yes, thank you. Actually, I’ve recently been promoted. Had you heard?”

  “No,” he said with a small chuckle. “I figured it would only be a matter of

  time, though.” He flashed a glance at Nicoli, who cleared his throat. I lacked the testosterone to decipher what passed between them.

  Nicoli cut in. “What did you need, sir?” So, Ralph outranked him. My day

  was already looking better.

  Small talk disappeared from Ralph’s expression. “I’m responding to Dr.

  Morgan’s request for our research data.”

  I waited for the fight to ensue. It didn’t.

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  “Of course you may have anything you need, Dr. Morgan. We discussed that

  the first day. You need only ask,” he said. “I’ve made arrangements to upload

  the files to the Bellator’s main computer, and from there they can be diverted to your— Actually, can they be diverted to your computer? As I recall, it was older than the known universe last time I saw it, and time’s passed since.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve upgraded. I still have the thing, and always will, mind

  you. But Dr. Folsom found me a new one, and I’ve been using it for my

  research.”

  “Excellent.” He sounded all too happy.

  I rolled my eyes again. “You really are a bigot.” Ralph winked, and I smiled

  back. “Also, I may need the actual test specimens. If I find something in the data, something overlooked—”

  “Do you have something in mind?”

  “Not at the moment, no. But if I find something—”

  “Dr. Morgan, whatever you need, as I said. If you find you require the actual

  test specimens, we’ll make arrangements to get them to you. I assure you, we’ll

  avail everything in our disposal to you. Can you think of anything else you may

  require?”

  I shook my head, positive I’d think of something ten minutes after this

  meeting ended. I tossed the captain an I-told-you-so smirk. He didn’t notice.

  “Actually, I have something, sir,” Nicoli interjected. “We’re taking a week’s

  furlough in a few days. The ship will be running with minimal crew at port.”

  Ralph understood the question in the statement. “Are you taking the

  furlough as well, Captain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then so is she. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “No, sir. She can stay with us at the beach house.”

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  “Good. We believe her life might still be in danger.”

  Nicoli clasped his hands together on the table and leaned closer. “Do they

  suspect where she might be?”

  Ralph shook his head. “Not at this point. Intel we’ve received suggests

  they’re still checking the usual venues. They did infiltrate her bank account. We deposited a large sum there staged as life insurance money. Hopefully that will

  keep them busy for a while.”

  My head snapped back and forth between the two men who dared to talk

  about me in front of my face.

  “Um, excuse me?” I interrupted. “Who is ‘us’ at the beach house? And who

  is ‘they’ that is looking for me? That money in my account is for life insurance?

  You’re trying to make ‘they’ believe I’m dead?”

  Nicoli answered first. “‘Us’ is Dr. Folsom, Admiral Rudd and myself.”

  Ralph followed closely after. “‘They’ is practically everyone else. And yes,

  it’s safer for you to be dead. Are you saying you’ve accessed your account? Why

  would you do that?” He grimaced.

  “Dr. Folsom said we could do some shopping in the Maldives.”

  Ralph closed his eyes. After a long moment, he opened them. “We’ll have to

  close the account due to identity theft. They’ll be looking for inquiries and

  transactions there.”

  “It’s fingerprint-access only. It couldn’t have been identity theft,” I told him.

  “Dr. Morgan, fingerprints only require fingers. It could’ve been identity

  theft.”

  I attempted to swallow the rising bile. Thankfully, I had no food in my

  stomach to contend with.

  “We’ll have the executor of your estate close the account and transfer the

  money to your next of kin,” Ralph said.

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  “I don’t have a next of kin. I’m pretty much it.” I’d never thought of it before, but the idea of having no one to leave my money to was depressing. It somehow

  made my existence that much less important, that much more minute.

  “Oh. I’d forgotten about that,” he said softly. “Do you have any charities or

  causes you’d like to leave it to?”

  I massaged my temples, trying to think of a single person who wouldn’t be

  surprised to receive the money. There was no one, aside from Dr. Folsom, and

  even that may appear a little suspicious, since it would be deposited alongside

  her paychecks from the UN.

  And then I had an epiphany.

  “Give it to the people of my island. They nee
d it to rebuild, no doubt, and it

  would be only natural for me to give it to them. It was my home. In fact, if I ever make it through this alive, I’m making arrangements to do exactly that.”

  “You’ll make it through,” Nicoli assured me. “You’ve no need to doubt

  that.”

  “Yes,” Ralph agreed. “You’re still quite safe.” The still part wasn’t as comforting as he’d intended.

  “I think that’s an excellent idea, Dr. Morgan,” Ralph continued. “That

  reminds me of something I wanted to tell you. Your friends on the island built a

  monument in honor of your family. Marble statues of the three of you, together.

  They erected it at the site where your home used to stand.”

  That was unexpected. The tears surged without warning. I almost couldn’t

  stop myself from actually sobbing—covering mouth with hand, I prevented the

  worst of it from escaping. I pictured the family of statues, standing there for the next eternity. Together again. Faces smiling. Father wearing his lab coat.

  Mother’s pencil stationed behind her ear. Me just happy to be there. I buried my

  face in my hands, crumpling under the weight of the grief.

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  “Elyse,” Nicoli whispered, his arms around me, pulling me to him, chair and

  all. “What can I do?” he murmured in my ear. The act surprised me as much as

  his warmth soothed me. That I wanted to stay in his arms—let him comfort me—

  surprised me more. How easily I could forget my grievances with this man, just

  because of the way he said my name, the way his tone dripped with concern. The

  way he smelled.

  His arms felt like a cocoon of safety, penetrating the anguish. On accident, I

  leaned into him. His hold tightened when he felt my tears soak through his shirt, and he gently stroked my hair. How his body could feel this warm without

  actually having a fever was a medical miracle…

  I needed to compose myself. Right now.

  “I’m fine,” I rasped, easing away from him. “I will be, at least. I just need a

  moment alone. A restroom?”

  “That door in the corner.” He motioned beside the bookshelf, doubt pooled

  in his eyes. Still, he released me.

  “Please excuse me for a moment, Ralph.” I stood. Since the streams weren’t

  finished flowing, I accomplished little in wiping them away.

  “Dr. Morgan, I—I didn’t mean to— There’s really no excuse for my—” Ralph

  stammered.

  “Ralph, please. You couldn’t have known the pipe would burst.” I laughed

  lightly to reassure him.

  “I should have.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” I was already halfway to the restroom.

  I shut the door behind me and hurried to the sink. I splashed cold water on

  my face until the pink of emotion subsided. When the evidence dried, I leaned

  against the wall, regarding the reflection with embarrassment.

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  In the room I could hear masculine voices discussing something but couldn’t

  make the sounds into actual words. Was that a fist pounding the table? It had to

  be Nicoli, since Ralph’s hologram wasn’t capable of the feat. Which embarrassed

  me anew. I hoped their disagreement had nothing to do with me and my

  outburst.

  I took another look in the mirror, threatening the woman in it with no

  chocolate for the rest of the day if she let that happen again. She frowned back

  but didn’t argue.

  My opening the door stopped their exchange. Nicoli moved to stand, but I

  waved him off. “I’m fine, really. You’ll have to admit, I’ve had a rough couple of days.” I laughed more heartily this time.

  He pulled my chair out for me. Though still positioned very close to him,

  scooting away would just cause a scene. The silence blared at us while my male

  counterparts struggled to find a subject safe enough for discussion. I decided to let them off the hook.

  “What about shopping? I mean, I’m homeless, penniless and recently

  deceased. I’m in desperate need of some heels.” I was only half-joking, but I tried to put some spirit behind it.

  Ralph chuckled, relieved for the directive. “Again, I assure you, whatever

  you want. You just can’t be spending your own money. Promise?”

  I grinned. “Well, if you insist.”

  “Absolutely.” Ralph smiled. “Can I assist you with anything else today, Dr.

  Morgan?”

  “Nothing I can think of.”

  “Nicoli?” he asked.

  That he used his first name instead of his rank intrigued me. Belatedly, I

  realized the conversation between them had flowed unrestrained, as if between

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  old friends. Nicoli even felt comfortable enough to pound his fist at his superior.

  Once more I wondered about Ralph’s rank but didn’t feel impertinent enough

  today to ask.

  “Actually, I was hoping to speak to you privately before we adjourned. Do

  you mind, Dr. Morgan?” Nicoli said.

  I stood to leave. “Of course not. Ralph, it was so good to see you, really.”

  He smiled that sincere smile of his. “The pleasure is always mine, I assure

  you, Dr. Morgan. Please, don’t hesitate at all if you need anything.”

  “I won’t. Thank you.” I hastened to the door before the awkwardness could

  set in. Once in the hall, I took a steadying breath. Despite my embarrassing

  display, it felt good to see Ralph—and it felt good to get my way. I stalked to the elevator, already strategizing ways to tackle the information Ralph would be

  sending me soon.

  “Mess hall,” I ordered it. My stomach growled in agreement. I patted it,

  noting with delight the absence of a certain little pouch. Then I wondered about

  its existence in the first place.

  I prepared to exit as the elevator slowed, but it announced our arrival at

  Tactical. Because I didn’t believe in luck—bad or good—I shouldn’t have been as

  surprised as I was to find Lt. Horan waiting for the elevator. Alone. Our eyes

  made that first contact, and he smiled as wide as the western hemisphere. I took

  a step back as he entered the elevator, the doors shutting behind him with an

  eerie finality.

  “Well, now, there she is,” he said. “I knew you’d turn up sometime today. I

  had a bet going with some of the boys. Told them you didn’t have it in ya to stay down. You just won me a lotta money, Doc.” He nudged my shoulder playfully

  with his fist. I stifled a scream.

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  He must have registered the mortification on my face. “Awww, you’re not

  still sore at me, are ya? Didn’t the captain give you my written statement? I was just having some fun with ya, that’s all.”

  “I—I—” Must be dreaming. Must not have even woken up this morning.

  “Hell, turns out you were just having some fun with me, huh?” He chuckled.

  “Never woulda thought— You pulled a helluva move on me, Doc, a helluva

  move.”

  “I—I—” I got nothing.

  “Well listen, what are ya doing? Have you had lunch yet? I was just on my

  way to grab some. Can you imagine if we showed up together? Whaddaya say,
>
  Doc?” He elbowed me in the ribs. The man was so jolly I thought he might start

  whistling.

  “I—I—” Don’t think I’ll ever talk again. Ever.

  When the elevator opened, Lt. Horan grabbed my hand and hauled me from

  it. Even if I’d been in the frame of mind to do so, there was nothing I could dig my heels into. The halls were a shiny, squeaky path, and my boots would only

  mar its perfection, not stop my abduction. Two men stopped their conversation

  upon seeing the spectacle of Horan dragging me toward the entrance of the mess

  hall. With eyes wide, they tried to discern if the situation warranted interference or not.

  “What are you ladies looking at?” he bellowed. They scattered before I could

  even tell them help me with my expression. We stopped just short of the entrance, and he pulled me up next to him, releasing me.

  He chuckled. “Are you ready?”

  Because speaking was something I was never going to do again, I shook my

  head in response.

  He thrust his fleshy thumb under my chin. “Chin up, shoulders squared.”

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  I complied out of sheer habit.

  “Good,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  With his hand on the small of my back, he propelled me into the mess hall.

  And then he stopped. For five countable seconds, the bustling activity of

  ingesting and imbibing halted. For those five seconds, the entire contents of the room regarded us as if we’d forgotten to dress. The cadets were hungry all right.

  Hungry for a new story to tell.

  I glanced at him for his reaction. He stood there spewing confidence, staring

  down as many people as he could. For lack of a better plan, I did too. It seemed

  to work. Every new pair of eyes represented a battle. Emboldened by each small

  victory, my parry became my thrust as I forced each brazen stare, one after

  another, to withdraw, to divert away. It felt good. Satisfying.

  This unspoken challenge worked for all test specimens except one. Liz

  returned my stare unabashed, smug even. I narrowed my eyes at her, willing her

  to look away. After several doubtful moments, she did so, rolling her eyes.

  Lt. Horan moved first, stalking with steadfast assurance to the food line. I

  followed. He pulled out a tray for me, handed me some silverware.