afoot. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to be done about it. A vendor had reported a discovery of food taint, so the clinic was teeming with nauseated patrons, all of whom were certain that they were at death’s door. Everyone was too busy.
They couldn’t have known Hawke had started a small fire in her office anyway. And so it grew, happily consuming all it could. It was a hungry, malevolent child, for the doctor had disabled the alarms and fire suppression devices in her office space. The flames crept about, teasing surfaces, indiscriminately tasting objects, looking for what would feed it best. Soon, the whole room was a boxed explosion, looking for an outlet. The flames laughed and danced, knowing with the surest instinct of evil that it was going to breathe ugliness into the world.
A physician’s assistant was the first to notice something amiss. He needed something from the doctor’s office, but as he drew near, he could sense the wrongness of what he saw. The door was contorting in agony, and as he got closer, he felt the terrible heat. Wisely, he stepped out of the hallway directly in front of it, and punched in the panic code that would send a fire squad reeling their way with the proper gear. At least, he hoped he’d gotten the code right. Fires were not that common an occurrence.
The security battalion, though it was virtually next door, wasn’t fully manned, so the OOD, the officer of the day, had to call in personnel who were off duty. Men and women rushed in, listening to the brief as they donned fireproof gear. Evac readiness was a go for part of them, since the entire station clinic was in danger of being damaged to a point of lengthy repair. The armory also shared a wall with the offices directly across from where the fire was currently confined. Another team went in search of the wayward doctor. The barracks was a blur of motion and orchestrated pandemonium.
Another station, the Boorda (in orbit around Io) had been alerted. There was a short-range ship being readied for casualties. The firefighters deployed headlong to the clinic, which was not yet engulfed, but it seemed inevitable that the fire wouldn’t be contained much longer. It wanted to be free of its too small home soon.
The unfamiliarity of peril was threatening to send normally calm civilians into frenzy, as they wrestled away from the vicinity of the clinic. Hoses were ready to pump foam into place, as soon as the door blew, which it did with a roar of fury and triumph. Glass exploded, flying outward into the unprotected crowd. At the same time the hoses churned into life, barraging the flames. The result was nearly instantaneous, as the onslaught of fire suppressant crushed every hope of flight for the fire.
There were cuts, ringing ears, and a few minor scorches. The crowd that had evacuated raised a cheer, thumped backs, and shook hands with the personnel who had in fact, saved most of their clinic. Only the offices were scorched, windows shattered, and the pharmacy a little worse for wear. It was damage that could be repaired within weeks, instead of having to entirely rebuild the section, or worse. Compared to what it might have become, it was so small. The exit of the doctor was forgotten in the moment of relief.
۞
Hawke had made the best possible use of the confusion to make it back to her quarters, where she threw most of her papers and belongings into the trash recycler. Then, she sprinted out and toward the shipping lanes, where there was sure to be some empty docks. She had her plan roughly sorted out, so long as she could avoid being caught, by the PMO’s or anyone else.
It was a certainty that someone was out looking for her, she knew it, so she ran faster, trying to blend in with the other creatures who were going to and from their ships. She had to go up one level, to number four, where she consulted a digital slip guide to tell her what she wanted to know. It read that there were four empty spots, all on the other side of the great circle. No matter, she kept her pace and her purpose sure.
۞
Tark and Sa’andy surveyed the damage from the fire. Their breakfast lay abandoned in the cafe, long since forgotten. He cursed Hawke without really knowing why. She was a pain in the ass, and a bigot, but up until now, never of criminal intent. Something had made her snap, and he wanted to know what. He had a suspicion that it had to do with whatever had encouraged her foolish prejudices.
He was certain she’d never known that he was aware of her sentiments, nor that most of her outgoing messages had been monitored by the security manager, and subsequently given to the commanding officer, namely, Tark. They’d always been oblique, and never named anyone she was in contact with, but he’d also always assumed that whoever it was, they certainly weren’t worth him expending much time over.
Most of the messages were usually idle grousing, never overtly threatening. Tark thought now that he should check with Dmitry to see if there was anything new that might shed light on this outburst of hers. Right after the doctor was brought in and questioned. A staff sergeant spoke in his ear, letting him know that the team currently trying to track Hawke down had just finished at her place, and found it in a shambles. The recycler had just been in use, so they guessed that she’d destroyed any items that probably would have helped them in understanding the situation.
Just then, a call came in from the dockmaster, desperately seeking a team to come up and resolve a problem. Someone had locked him...or her...self inside a docking ring. He couldn’t see for sure, he said, but he thought it was a kid, and was worried about them accidentally blowing the seals. Tark took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to end the way he wanted. What could have gone so wrong that Hawke would have come to this point?
“I think we’ve just located the doctor, Staff Sergeant.” He pointed off toward the central staircase leading off the docks. The woman nodded vigorously, and called her team to meet them up there. Tark sprinted in the direction of the lanes, with Sa’andy close behind. They rounded a corner to the stairway, and nearly knocked down a group of people in the process. It was Maeve and her compatriots.
“Where’s the fire?’ She asked good-naturedly, until she read the expression on Tark’s face. She took up the rear as he continued his ascent. The other five all shrugged and fell in as well. They alighted in a huge vestibule that separated the military lanes from the civilian docks.
Tark shoved through the curiosity seekers who’d already flocked to the ring where crew and the security detachment stood. They came to attention as soon as he approached, but he waved them back to ease, as he tried to see inside. If it was her, she’d cut the lights, and was staying out of the line of sight afforded by the porthole. He pressed the button on the emergency speaker and hoped for the best.
“Doctor, if that’s you in there, just do us all a favor and come out. There is always a better way, if you’re dealing with a problem. We’ll do anything we can to help you out.” He was trying to recall the standard operating procedure for this sort of thing. It was too far back in his memory banks, and the training had lasted for a mere week or two. He went back to try and see in the window, having gotten no response. A repair crew worked to restore lights, and to disable the outer hatch.
The doctor’s face appeared unexpectedly in the small window, startling him. Her face was streaked with moisture, and dust. She looked at that moment like what he’d always imagined a banshee to be. She was full of that same rage, as she picked up a prybar from the supply locker inside, proceeding to smash the box which had given her the colonel’s voice. That accomplished, she looked back at him, mouthing something. Over and over. She backed away, into the darkness, as the crew finally made headway. The emergency lighting came up, casting a pale amber wash over the scene. Hawke cast a desperate look around, obviously not expecting anyone to have reversed any of her actions.
She knew what she was doing, though, and didn’t let herself get distracted. A knife in her hand was the failsafe. It was decided and done. Temptation to try and make a statement was abandoned; let fate run its course before man could reverse it. Her fingers found the command pad and prodded the last code needed. She felt a sudden cold rush at her back. She tensed, and turned her head slightly as fingers with incompreh
ensible strength closed around her and pulled her into the ruthless void. She felt nothing. She knew nothing. She was nothing.
A collective scream rippled through the crowd. Tark and Maeve stood transfixed in dismay as the vault-like hatch rolled out of the way. Silently, the doctor’s body shot outside, as though it were pulled on a string. Personnel worked to get the outer door sealed and repressurized. Others stood by, suited to jump in and perform retrieval. Maeve hoped that she was in the last stages of asphyxia and not cognizant of what was happening to her body. That thought didn’t make it any easier to watch.
Hands covered eyes among the onlookers, all anticipating what was to come. It didn’t take long. Soon, all that mattered were the innumerable globular droplets floating past the warning lights outside the bay windows of the waiting area. It was almost beautiful, the way the red caught the light and shone through. Rubies in space. A few of them caught against the glass, hanging there, trembling in spacial currents before they froze solidly. The air was hushed. Loss.
The nature of what had just happened had a recognizable burn to it for Maeve. It was an atmosphere of utter helplessness. She wanted to be far, far away from it, viscerally, and psychologically. It reached out to her with skeletal claws; a long-buried but well-traveled descent into hell. Striving to stay in control of herself, she finally fled the scene. Her stomach wrenched and vision swam while images of flesh and blood fought to show themselves to her.
Maeve groped her way past the throng, down to the number two level. It was relatively abandoned there. No one gave her a second glance as she walked, then ran off the anxiety she felt. Escape seemed so very right; comfort was granted only by distance.
She had wanted never to see blood again, never know its brutal definition again. But she knew she would. It would follow her, just as surely as if it was her shadow. Revulsion surged up, only to be fought back down (like so much else), and sublimated. She had to get under control. She could feel sweat pouring off her body as she shivered in spite of having sprinted.
Leif had watched Maeve leave, feeling a faint sense of unease. More than just this incident had to be bothering her. Possibly she either was not sure why, or else she was hiding what she did remember about herself. He didn’t think it was wise to chase after her yet, though. She needed time to process. Turning back, he saw that the colonel was involved in the process of undoing as much harm as he was capable.
Colonel Tarkington looked the way a leader should; unruffled, emanating calm. Under the surface was another story. That was how Maeve had been. Once, long ago. Leif wondered how much it would take to break a man like Tarkington. More, or less than it had for her?
“Guilt is a bitter pill.”
He turned around again, looking to see who had spoken, realizing belatedly that it had been the voice of someone who was long-dead by now. Leif stared back out the huge windows into space, trying to forget that voice in the distant past. The sun burned on and on, while space suited crew began the grim task of collecting the doctor. It was barely past zero nine thirty. He rejoined the others, as they tried to make sense of this strange and unpleasant turn of events. A whole day waited to unravel ahead of them.
۞
That same tiring realization penetrated Tark’s thoughts finally. The whole damn day lay ahead. He’d watched Maeve leave as well, knowing that he couldn’t follow her and still do his job the way he had to. But he couldn’t imagine