Perfiditas (19 page)

XXVI

Where did my knack for self-destruction come from? I jumped into the elevator up to the infirmary before they found me and locked me up.

‘Morning, Captain,’ the duty nurse greeted me. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’ve come to see Maelia – she was brought in yesterday. No, night before – sorry.’ I’d lost track of time.

She scanned my badge and looked at her screen. ‘Ah! You’re due another restorative. Please wait here a moment.’

Didn’t they have anything better to do?

She came back in a few moments with a cup of the familiar ginger and malt drink. The gods knew what else was in it, vitamins or something, I suppose, but it accelerated the healing process. The swelling on my arm had almost gone, although the wounds were still seeping. Of course, it ached.

Like a true officious medic, she watched me until I’d finished. I put the empty cup down, leaving a ring-mark to make her over-tidy counter messy.

‘Follow me, please,’ she said.

She swept me through the swing doors. The hospital smell hit me. Even in this small facility, it ruled. It bounced off the inhabitants as well as the cream walls. There were only half a dozen rooms, and I was ushered into the second one along the short corridor.

Maelia grinned weakly. She was plugged into a monitor, and her leg was encased in a plastic brace. She looked trapped in the white bed. I pulled up a chair.

‘Well?’ I enquired.

‘Well, what?’

‘When are they discharging you?’

‘When my hair grows back.’ She turned and showed me the bald patch with a deep but healing graze. Poor Maelia; she loved her beautiful hair. It was normally a shiny, plentiful waterfall of glossy dark brown. At the moment, it was like a bunch of dark straw, too embarrassing for a scarecrow.

‘Yeah, bummer,’ I sympathized. ‘Is it very hard for you now, with the leg, I mean?’

She gazed at the vase of flowers on the bedside table for a few moments and put a lot of energy in scrunching up the edge of her sheet. She eventually drew her gaze back to me. ‘They see no reason for it not to heal fully, but I won’t be back to full strength for a few months. I have to lie still for two weeks.’ She looked so despondent. Maelia was one of those active fidgets who couldn’t bear to sit still, let alone lie still. Maybe I could bring her into the strategy office when she came back to light duties.

‘Too bad. You’ll have to knuckle down and do what they say for once,’ I said.

‘Just like you do, Bruna.’ I couldn’t mistake the malicious gleam in her eye.

‘Yeah, well, the least said about that, the better.’

‘Ah, ha! Do I detect the golden girl is in trouble again?’

‘You mind your business, Maelia.’

‘How bad?’

I told her about the row.

‘He won’t let you go, you know. You might have a rough time for a short while, though.’

‘You know what, Maelia, you are starting to sound like Paula. She thinks she’s my mother.’

‘Well, perhaps you need one.’

I said nothing. My mother had died when I was three.

We moved on, our conversation rising back up to the superficial.

‘I’ll come back tomorrow if I’m not up on a charge.’

‘Nah, you won’t be.’

I tracked Livius and Atria down to the games room. He was half-lying on a couch, beer in hand, cushions supporting his back, the good foot on the ground. She was sitting on a dining chair. Both held controllers and were intent on the screen, alive with movement. The screen flashed bright yellow then cleared completely.

Livius threw his remote on the floor. ‘For fuck’s sake, how did you do that? You are such a cheat.’

‘Don’t be a bad loser,’ came her soft voice. ‘I just used the advantages I had.’

‘Yeah, right.’

She just laughed.

‘Rematch?’ he challenged. I saw him watching her, carefully evaluating her reaction – or was it more than that?

‘Glad to see you’re practising your theoretical combat skills,’ I interrupted them.

Atria rose to her feet, moving awkwardly, her sling matching mine. I waved her back down and dragged up a chair.

‘Hello, ma’am, how are you?’ asked Livius. He looked completely at ease, as if he were hosting an exclusive literary salon.

‘Good, thanks. Arm’s a bit stiff. You two?’

‘Well, I’ve felt better,’ replied Atria. ‘It’s so itchy!’ She moved her elbow out a little way from her body in a circular movement. ‘The gods alone know what drugs they’ve given me to take the pain away, but I expect I’ll pay for it.’

‘Well, take your mind off it by choosing the next game,’ Livius instructed her. As she stood up and did so, his gaze followed her.

‘So what’s the prognosis on your ankle, Livius?’

‘I have to have physio for a couple of weeks, then light duties to the end of the month. If I pass the medical, I can go back to non-strenuous training.’ His mouth turned down at the thought. He watched Atria coming back. She said, too smoothly, she was going to fetch some more drinks.

Livius turned to me. ‘I wanted to say something private to you.’ His usual cheeky grin disappeared. His scratched and cut face was serious. ‘Up on the parapet…’

I went to interrupt him.

‘No, let me finish,’ he insisted. ‘I was furious at the time when I saw the legate and swore at him. I almost knocked him off.’ He looked away.

But it was Conrad who had reacted and Livius who had fallen.

I felt uneasy at what was coming. What was Livius thinking? As a member of one of the Twelve Families, he was perfectly entitled to challenge Conrad on equal terms, according to the Families’ Codes. He was younger, fitter and quite deadly. Conrad was no slouch, but Livius was in peak combat condition – well, apart from the ankle, of course. But he was my comrade in arms, part of my personal team, so he couldn’t challenge a member of my family. Gods, what complicated connections we made for ourselves!

‘You could have been killed,’ I said. ‘And we were on a Strat8, which would have been successful anyway.’

He shushed me, taking my hand. ‘We
did
succeed. That’s all that’s important. Don’t give him a hard time. He was only trying to save his child,’ he said softly.

This was from the man who’d been pushed off four floors up by Conrad.

‘I know, but—’

‘No, finish it here or it’ll sour everything. For both of you and for the unit.’

He looked at me steadily. I was disconcerted by this serious Livius, but he was right. In the end, I looked away and hunched in the chair, not knowing what to say back to him.

‘Captain Mitela?’

We looked around and saw one of the custody guards. Had he come for me?

‘Yes?’

‘We’ve had a, well, you could call it a special delivery, for you.’

‘What kind of delivery?’

‘The driver said it had to be handed to “Bruna” or “Flav”. He said he needed a receipt from either of you.’

Few, very few, outside knew my
nom de guerre
. I flicked on my mouth mic. ‘Flavius, Mitela. Meet me in the custody suite in five.’ Pause. ‘Some delivery or other. Either you or I have to sign for it.’ Pause. ‘Not a clue. Out.’

Atria came back at that point, with a steward in her wake carrying a tray with drinks and sandwiches. She was one of those people who always had immediate, sparkling service from an assistant, a waiter or a steward when the rest of us couldn’t even see one.

‘Hope it’s not a bomb,’ Livius commented and grinned.

‘You’ll know when it goes bang,’ I said.

I hadn’t been entirely honest with Livius. If only Flavius or I could sign for this delivery then there was only one possible sender.

When I met Flavius on the stairs leading down to the custody area, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me.

‘Well, I don’t know either,’ I said. ‘But let’s not make a big production out of it.’

We emerged into a wide, cream-painted hall. After negotiating the security gate which slid shut behind us, we passed through the body scanner which hummed but did not beep.

As we approached the desk, the duty sergeant deigned to look up and nodded. ‘Ah, Captain Mitela, Sergeant Flavius, please come this way.’ He handed over to his deputy and led us through another secure gate into the garage area. A standard long wheelbase occupied the far end where the sloping driveway flattened out to enter the garage, but there was no sign of any driver, just a door gaping. Not good. We all tensed – maybe Livius was right.

‘Back. Now!’ shouted the sergeant. We fled to the other side of the security gate, and the impact shutters crashed down.

An EOD bomb squad appeared within minutes of the alarm call. They wore Nomex bomb suits, with only their faces visible through the polycarbonate masks. They waited for five long minutes while their commander assessed the vehicle, then opened the small shutter door and gingerly entered the garage, keeping to the back. A small robot deployed, circling the vehicle with extended camera, sensors and bioscanner. The EOD commander frowned into his el-pad.
No reading for explosives, gases, mechanisms, plastic – nothing
, his disembodied voice reported,
only five life signs on the bioscan readout
.

I grabbed a spare helmet and mask. I left the body armour – it didn’t fit around slings – and stepped through the shutter door.

Sure enough, five glowing bio signatures showed on his screen. He sent the robot around again. Same result. Breathing more regularly, he signalled a couple of his troops in to look closer at the vehicle. Kevlar shields held in front, they scanned for electronic traps as they advanced centimetre by centimetre. All it needed was a perimeter sensor to trigger and they would be scattered in shreds of flesh across the garage. The robot’s arm lifted the canvas cargo cover and slowly pulled it back. The robot camera arm snaked in over the metal tailgate and swung slowly around.

There were five men in the back, manacled and secured to the floor. Their mouths were taped and they were blindfolded with sleep masks.

I gasped as I saw them on the screen. ‘Jupiter’s balls!’

‘Friends of yours, Captain?’ the EOD commander’s voice buzzed through his headset.

‘Definitely not!’ I replied. ‘But a friend may have sent them.’ I smiled to myself.

The commander looked at me as if I were deranged.

‘I leave you to do your body checks,’ I reassured the EOD leader. ‘But I think you’ll find they’re clean – so will the long wheelbase be.’ Philippus would not have served me a dirty trick on this. Nice of him to return our vehicle.

Half an hour later, the custody guards were let in and took our new guests into their tender care. Stripped, searched, examined by the medics, they were found to be in reasonable condition, but truculent. I formally arrested them and read them their rights before they were locked in individual cells. They’d keep until the morning, I thought.

‘I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me who exactly they are, would you, Captain?’

‘It would give me the greatest pleasure in the world, Sergeant. Just find me a decent cup of coffee and a sandwich and I’m all yours!’

I finished all the paperwork by just after 14.00 and felt a little smug as I walked back upstairs. Apollodorus had behaved impeccably, whatever Conrad might have thought. Right now, I needed to find my desk and start Daniel’s damned report.

I opened the door to my office and walked into a palace. The piles of boxes, racking struts, cupboards, chairs, cabinets, screens and cabling reels had been transformed into a sleek, humming strategy centre with a large transparent polycarbonate situation screen at the end. A bank of desks and screens lined the two walls with a command station at the end of the run, facing into the room. Even my sandbox was there in the corner with bright lighting over it, illuminating every grain. The dividers between the office and lecture hall had also been renewed with pale birch panelling. On the command station top, there sat my old scratched desk organizer and cube-pad block.

I saw Fausta and Drusus, chirruping into headsets, playing some deep strategy game. Drusus turned around only to see who had interrupted them.

‘Captain!’ The impatient look on his face dissolved instantly, replaced by goggling eyes and an open mouth, but he quickly recovered. Fausta’s head snapped round. She was equally amazed.

‘What? Didn’t you expect me back?’ I tried to look crestfallen, but couldn’t manage it. I grinned instead. They bubbled around me, like a couple of playground rivals, each intent on showing me something new and wonderful. At last, I arrived at the command station, a very streamlined affair, unlike my old, stained, wooden utility desk. Still, a keyboard was a keyboard, so I logged on and started typing.

After an hour, I stopped and stretched my legs. My arm was also protesting by then. I needed to take some medication. ‘Okay, where’s the coffee machine?’

They glanced at each other.

‘Um, we haven’t unpacked it, ma’am,’ confessed Fausta.

‘Because?’

‘Well, we both drink mineral water.’

I shut my eyes for a moment.

‘Very commendable, Fausta, but please get the coffee machine on, stat,’ I instructed.

I found the fridge in the tiny side kitchen. As suspected, no milk or cream. I sighed.

‘On it, Captain,’ Drusus almost put his finger through the deskset in his haste.

‘And sugar,’ I added. They looked appalled.

I finished my report and hit print. I liked to read the final version on paper with a red pen in my hand. I couldn’t hear a thing.

‘Okay, where’s the printer?’ I was obviously still thinking in old office mode. Perhaps it was something else they hadn’t unpacked.

Fausta leapt up and slid out a unit from the row of wall storage. ‘We keep it in here, to prevent any cross-signals with the game system.’ The whole compartment was lined with grey pyramid-patterned radio absorbent material. Impressive. I collected my sheets and skulked back to my seat like a dinosaur. Amendments done, I mailed the report to Daniel. I also messaged Colonel Somna about our new guests, copying in the legate, the adjutant and the operations officer. I sat back and waited.

Inevitably, my terminal beeped with an alert for an urgent meeting: legate’s office.