Stories by Kiera Dellacroix

by Dellacroix, Kiera

  "I thought you might start by telling me what your problem is with the people in uniform?"

  Corky tensed.

  "I had a chat with Mr. Daniels about you before he departed," Malory continued, studying the woman carefully. "Don't worry, he didn't say anything he shouldn't have."

  A relieved breath. "You won't be offended if I say I don't know you near well enough to have that conversation with you?"

  "Of course not," Malory said beaming her best smile. "I wouldn't presume to put you in such an uncomfortable position."

  To Corky's dismay, she couldn't help but smile in response to the one being directed at her. "Then I don't understand."

  "I have a solution," Malory said. "I was pretty sure you'd refuse to tell me, so I thought you might tell my XO?"

  Corky gaped. "Huh?"

  "Just try to keep an open mind, alright?"

  "I don't get it," Corky said, wondering what the woman was up to.

  "Just try," she asked again sweetly, begging her with her eyes.

  "Okay," Corky relented. "I'll try."

  "Great," she exclaimed happily, suddenly bending over and digging in a desk drawer.

  Corky watched in confusion, half of her curious to see what the woman was up to and the other half almost positive she was being set up for something. Her lips tightened into a thin line when a small tape recorder was placed on the desk in front of her. However, the stinging comment poised on the tip of her tongue died quickly and she lapsed into a furious trance when another item was placed on the desk. Her eyes focused in on the doll unbelievingly. Within arms reach sat a Chatty Kathy with a bad red dye job, clothed in a childish copy of a Naval uniform and complete with a little black sombrero.

  "Now, I know what you're probably thinking," Malory said. "But I've used this approach successfully many times in the past. I'll just hit record and go find something to do for about an hour. Little Lovecraft is a good listener, feel free to tell her anything you want."

  Corky could only stare, all traces of color gone from her face.

  Trying to remain passively disinterested until she was out of the room, Malory turned the recorder on and made a hasty exit.

  It took almost five full minutes for a nonviolent thought to penetrate Corky's consciousness. The bitch suckered me right in! And to think for a second there I thought she was charming! Why me? What the fuck is her malfunction?

  She was suddenly aware that her hands hurt and she dropped her gaze from the doll to find her knuckles white from the death grip she had on the arms of her chair. Fingers uncurled themselves gingerly and she grimaced slightly as circulation reasserted itself. When she had regained some feeling, her eyes again traveled back to the idiotic doll, noting the little cord dangling from her neck.

  Do I dare?

  She debated carefully, but in the end she couldn't help herself. Knowing she was going to regret it, she reached out and pulled the string.

  --------

  Malory watched from her hiding place, amusement so apparent on her face a blind man could see it, as the doctor stormed out of her office and stomped off down the hallway. She made herself wait until the woman disappeared before she practically ran back to her office, laughing delightedly when she found Little Lovecraft in the garbage can and both lying across the room. As hoped, Corky had forgotten about the recorder. She picked it up excitedly to rewind it and plopped down in her chair to listen.

  "Roses are red. Violets are blue. Don't you just hate it when I fuck with you," came the childishly sung tease. "Fuckin' bitch," Corky hissed.

  A pregnant pause and then. "I know you are but what am I?"

  The final taunt was followed immediately by the sound of Little Lovecraft landing violently in the trashcan and then the thud and crash as both were obviously kicked across the room.

  Malory fell back in her chair, laughing uproariously.

  03/29/02 - 1130 hours

  The next few weeks passed slowly and life for the Commander had become exceedingly dull. She was rarely sought out for anything other than the most trivial of things and to make matters worse, Dr. Rivers had successfully managed to avoid any contact with her. Leaving the mess every time she entered, whether she was done with her meal or not, and taking the precaution of slipping on a pair of earmuffs so she couldn't listen to her the one time she had approached her in Medical. Among other things, Malory decided, the woman was a poor sport.

  She was in the midst of another losing hand of computer Solitaire when DeSoto appeared in the doorway.

  "Commander," he said in greeting.

  "What's up?"

  "External communications are down," he reported. "I'd like permission to go outside and clear the dome?"

  Malory perked up. "Alone?"

  "No, I was gonna take Butler with me."

  "Cut him loose, I'll go," she said, happy to have a project.

  "Very well, Commander," he said warily. "It's quite a hike and the weather is pretty ugly."

  "Looking forward to it," she said, hopping up from her chair. "Give me a few minutes, please."

  "Alright, I'll be in Receiving when you're ready."

  "Meet you there."

  Ten minutes later, she arrived at the platform, feeling burdened under the weight of all her arctic clothing. She was curious and excited to see what the outside looked like in the winter.

  "Ready, Commander?" DeSoto asked.

  "Yep, lead the way."

  "I kinda thought we'd drive, Commander."

  "Huh?"

  "The silo is about a mile away," he explained.

  "I thought you said it was a hike."

  "It will be going up."

  She chuckled. "Okay, give me the scoop."

  He pointed to a distant door in the ice. "We take a snowmobile down that corridor to the silo. Once there we climb to the surface where the dome is situated."

  "Ahh, so who's driving?" she asked with a smile.

  "You're the Commander."

  "That I am. Show me to my chariot," she ordered the dark featured young man.

  Several minutes later, his arms were clinging desperately around her waist as they rocketed down the narrow passageway at a blistering pace. His mind conjuring up images of what he would look like if they crashed, picturing his body a mass of compound fractures lying at the end of a long bloodstain that stood out sharply in the snow. He was immeasurably relieved when they got to the end of the corridor still intact.

  Malory hopped off the snowmobile and turned on the flashlight that DeSoto had given her, curiously investigating her surroundings. A few yards away was a ladder that climbed upwards through a circular hole in the ice, the temperature was bitter, even under all of her gear.

  "How far up?" she asked.

  "About a quarter of a mile," DeSoto answered. "Don't let any exposed skin touch the metal of the ladder."

  "So it would be a bad idea to lick one of the rungs?"

  He chuckled. "Only if you have the desire to have your tongue amputated."

  "Think I'll pass," she grinned. "Want me to carry any of the gear?"

  "I got it."

  "You're the boss, lead the way."

  A few minutes into the climb, she was beginning to think she would've been better off bored in her office. It was frightfully cold and her hands were starting to hurt, the chill of the metal ladder effortlessly penetrating the insulation of her gloves. In addition, it was creepy in the dark and the atmosphere was claustrophobic within the confines of the tunnel. When they finally reached the top, she decided that DeSoto had been correct; it was indeed quite a hike.

  They emerged into a small, but thankfully much warmer room filled with a variety of cabling and electronic equipment. She noticed that space heaters were installed within the walls and she turned to DeSoto.

  "These heaters run on a timer?"

  "Yes," he replied, shedding his backpack. "They run just enough to keep the equipment from freezing over."

  "All of this powered from our own generat
ors?"

  "Yes."

  "Why so far away from the main compound?"

  "Because we needed an outside landscape that could camouflage our equipment," he explained. "The area above the compound is flat ice, hard to hide the dome."

  She looked to the ceiling. "Are you telling me we're standing under a glass roof?"

  "A special kind of glass, yes. You wouldn't be able see this place from the outside unless you stepped on it."

  "Wow, you guys really went all out here," she commented. "So, what do we need to do?"

  "Unfortunately, we have to go outside and shovel the snow off the dome."

  "That sounds like fun," she said dryly, she was still cold. "How much snow?"

  "Depends," he shrugged. "It's not really snow, we don't get a lot of that here. Winds from the coast blow ice into the interior, so the landscape is always changing. Maybe four feet, might be a little less."

  "Great," she said grumpily, now certain that she should have stayed in her office.

  "Well, we get Mexican tonight for dinner," he offered. "Dr. Rivers makes a mean plate."

  "Excuse me?" she asked. "Dr. Rivers is making dinner?"

  "Sure," he said with a shrug. "Usually once a week, a couple of people give the kitchen staff a night off. Dr. Rivers always does Mexican."

  "Really?"

  "Yep."

  "Hmmm, well let's get after it."

  She tried to hide her frown when he handed her a shovel.

  --------

  Malory trudged back to her quarters and flopped face down onto her cot in all of her clothes, immediately covering herself with blankets. She had never been so cold in all of her life. It had taken most of the day to clear the snow from the dome, due largely in part to the fact that they had to work in shifts. Not being able to endure the weather for more than ten minutes at a time, it had been pitch black outside and the wind could only be described as evil. She knew for a fact that she wouldn't be volunteering herself for another project, no matter how bored she might become.

  She peeked out from under the covers to glance at the clock, a little grin twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Almost dinner time," she whispered nefariously.

  --------

  Corky stood behind the counter jovially filling the passing trays with food. This was one of her favorite activities; she loved to cook and enjoyed the friendly banter of her colleagues. Being the chef also provided the benefit of indulging her ego and she gleefully soaked up the compliments she received for her culinary efforts.

  In fact, now that Larry was gone, she had grudgingly decided that things weren't as bad as she had predicted them to be. It had taken a lot of effort, but she was finally able to admit, despite her personal feelings for the insufferable Commander, that everyone seemed to genuinely like the woman. She didn't intrude, was easygoing, and pretty much let everyone do their own thing.

  Her own feelings, however, contrasted starkly against public opinion. She hated, or more accurately, she loathed the bitch to the point of being unable to devise a death for the redheaded slag that would be suitably tortuous. Even more maddening was the fact that she couldn't figure out why the woman would go to such great lengths to torment her. She would probably like the woman her coworkers described, but she had yet to see that person and it didn't make her feel special to be singularly chosen for such abuse. The whole thing both pissed her off and perplexed her.

  "Uh oh, Corky," Clovis said, coming up from behind to deliver another platter of food from the kitchen. "Word of your table has reached the ears of the Commander."

  "Huh?" Corky asked, looking over her shoulder at the man.

  "Here she comes," Clovis gestured with a nod.

  Corky looked over to see that the Commander had entered the mess hall and she tensed. Trapped! She couldn't very well storm out while serving the food she had prepared for everyone. Her eyes narrowed as it occurred to her that the bitch probably knew this as well and was using it to her advantage.

  She tracked the woman covertly as she made her way toward the counter, scoffing internally at the way the she was dressed. What a slob! Her boots were untied, the laces dragging behind her on the floor. The blue fatigue pants half tucked into one boot as if she were too lazy to bother and she wore a gray Annapolis sweatshirt that was covered liberally with white paint stains. Even her hair gave the impression of slothfulness, being tied up but falling out all over the place. It secretly chapped Corky's ass that the woman was pretty enough to get away with looking so slovenly. It bothered her even more that her appearance probably did nothing but endear her to the male population. God I hate her!

  She hastily summoned her most impassive expression as the woman grabbed a tray and sauntered forward.

  "Good evening, Doctors," Malory said cheerfully. "Be generous with the grub, I worked up an appetite today."

  Corky snatched Malory's tray silently and handed it to Clovis to fill.

  "I heard you went outside with DeSoto today," Clovis asked. "How was it?"

  "Cold," Malory replied with a shudder.

  "I'll bet," he chuckled, handing her a tray filled to the brim.

  Malory's gaze fell to the food in front of her, quite aware of the brown eyes watching her intently. "What's this?"

  "An assortment of Mexican dishes," Corky said stiffly before Clovis could answer.

  Malory studied the tray suspiciously. "It looks like Pancho Villa puked in my plate."

  Immediately bristling, Corky's irritation rose sharply at the sound of Clovis's quickly stifled chuckle. She simmered silently as she watched the Commander poke the food experimentally with a fork, her face twisted in disgust. Finally, she raised a portion to her mouth, grimacing painfully.

  "Oh, my God," Malory exclaimed, her mouth full. "It tastes like barbecued shit," she added with a gag, letting the food slowly dribble out of her mouth to land with a moist splat back in her plate. "Jesus, I wouldn't allow a pig to swill in this," she said in revulsion, backing away from the counter with a shudder and finally turning to stride from the room.

  Clovis watched the entire spectacle, his jaw clenched tightly to keep from laughing. He had seen Corky start to pale and had noticed her mouth drop open slightly in horror as the Commander let the food fall nauseatingly out of her mouth. He turned wary eyes on her as Lovecraft left the room and noted that the little doctor was so pissed off it was a wonder that her hair wasn't standing on end.

  "That miserable cunt," she finally rasped, reaching out to grab the tray of food the Commander had left behind and storming off after her.

  It was his first thought to stop her before she did anything foolish, but Clovis suspected that the Commander knew what she was doing. Instead, with Corky safely out of the room, he finally let out the laughter that had been strangling him.

  --------

  Corky stomped through the halls, her anger growing with every step. As she rounded the last corner, she caught sight of her target heading for her quarters and fury threatened to burst from every pore. The bitch was skipping! Fuckin' skipping! I want her dead. I want her family dead. I want her house burned to the ground...

  Malory entered her office and kicked off her boots playfully, a huge smile plastered on her face. Suddenly sensing a presence behind her, she turned to find Dr. Rivers standing in the doorway.

  "You forgot your goddamn dinner," Corky growled and hurled the heaping tray of food with a deadly accurate overhand throw.

  Malory didn't have time to do anything but bring her hands up to protect her face as the tray hit her elbows and coated her from the neck down in Mexican cuisine. She peeked out from behind her hands to see the doctor breathing so heavily in the doorway she was practically snarling. She couldn't help it, she laughed. She laughed so hard she doubled over.

  The Commander's hilarity was just too much for Corky to handle. She rushed into the room, raising a hand with every intention of slapping the dumbfuck smile off the woman's face. Anger transformed the intended slap into a from behind the
back haymaker by the time she was within range, and she let it fly with all of her strength. She was stunned when the blow was stopped short with a deceptively powerful grip around her wrist. Startled, she looked up to find pale blue eyes appraising her amusedly. Abruptly, two crimson eyebrows waggled at her suggestively.

  "Gimme some sugar, baby," Malory rumbled and darted forward to place a kiss on the flummoxed doctor's lips.

  With a gasp, Corky backed up a step and tore her wrist from the woman's grip. "You horrid bitch," she said and was so fast with her slap that it darted past the Commander's defenses and impacted her cheek painfully.

  "Wow," Malory said after a stunned second. "I kinda liked that. If I kiss you again will you slap the other cheek?"

  Corky gaped at her. "You're fucked in the head."

  Malory shrugged. "Are you afraid of me?"

  "No!"

  "You're shakin' like a dog shittin' peach pits."

  "Maybe I'm just pissed off."

  "Wanna take a shower with me?"

  "I gotta get out of here," Corky exclaimed, spinning hastily and running from the room.

  Malory watched her go with a smile, bringing a hand up to rub her stinging cheek. "Gotcha."

  04/27/02 - 1500 hours

  Corky spent the next month in constant fear of another confrontation with the Commander, being left suspicious and confused after every encounter that was met with a polite nod or greeting. The woman baffled her to no end. Having apparently succeeded in her mission to incite a riot between them, the Commander was now very cordial, no longer going out of her way to ignite any emotion or response from her, granting her both distance and respect. Corky wasn't sure if the woman didn't have a doppelganger. Yet, she would die before letting her guard down again, having often considered the notion that the woman had some sort of grand scheme to slowly drive her insane.

  In another galling development, Lovecraft was becoming ever more popular with the staff. Often spending time in the mess hall laughing lewdly with the men, obviously sharing coarse jokes and tomfoolery. It left Corky feeling somewhat ostracized, considering that they were the only two women in the compound. To add insult to injury, her best friend Clovis was unable to hide the fact that he adored the fucking woman. It made her want to vomit every time she saw him make goo-goo eyes at the bitch.