The Travels of Scout Shannon Books 1-3

Chapter 16

16

Ottilie let out a cry of such raw grief Scout felt tears spring to her own eyes.

She remembered her parents standing in the doorway to see her off, her baby brother bouncing up and down in her father’s arms. She had stopped at the end of the street to look back one last time, certain they would have gone back inside to all the work that never ended inside the bakery, but they had been watching her still.

That had been her last glimpse of them: her mother’s hand raised in a farewell salute, her father laughing as he pulled strands of his beard from her brother’s sticky grasp. Her brother’s baby giggles had echoed after her even as she turned to pedal away.

Ottilie’s grief brought that all back, the sight but also the way the smell of baking bread had permeated the alley, the undertone of composting green matter from the bins that stood beside each doorway. She could even remember the distant feeling of the sun on her shoulders, muted by the dome above.

Scout was on her knees, no longer holding either leash. Shadow stayed close to her side, licking at her face as she fought back tears. Girl was sitting halfway between Scout and Ebba in Ottilie’s arms, looking back and forth and thumping her tail uncertainly. She didn’t know what to make of the mood in the air.

“Scout.”

Scout jumped at the sound of her name, rubbing at her cheeks as she got back to her feet. Nothing there but Shadow’s saliva, but still she felt ashamed. “She didn’t mean to do it,” Scout said as Warrior looked over at Ottilie rocking Ebba in her arms.

“Ebba let go of me in the dark,” Warrior said. “Took me too long to notice she wasn’t there. I doubled back but couldn’t find her. Were the dogs barking at her?”

“Not at first, I don’t think so,” Scout said, looking around for the fallen flashlight. It was some distance away, so instead she just pointed into the darkness over Ottilie. “Do you see? There’s a hatch.”

Warrior moved to stand underneath it and Scout picked up the ends of the ropes and guided the dogs to the fallen light, but she stopped as a sudden thought hit her. “Is that safe?”

“Safe enough for me. You should probably stay back, though.”

Scout stepped a leash-length back from both Warrior under the open hatch and Ottilie with Ebba in her arms.

“Did you see anyone?” Warrior asked, her head still tipped back to look up the shaft.

“No. No sign of footprints in the dust, either. But something had the dogs barking.”

“That goes all the way to the surface,” Warrior said.

“That’s what Ottilie said.”

Warrior looked down at Ottilie as if just then aware she was there. “We should take her back, get her calmed down. Get her to walk with you, I’ll carry Ebba.”

Scout put a hand on Ottilie’s shoulder. She just buried her face into Ebba’s neck and sobbed.

“Soldier,” Warrior said sharply, and Ottilie stiffened but fell silent. “We need to move out.” Then, more gently, “Let me carry her for you.”

Ottilie sniffled once, then again, then sat back to lift Ebba up towards Warrior. She couldn’t manage more than sitting the body up, but Warrior bent and took Ebba gently into her arms, rolling her close until her head was resting on Warrior’s shoulder. Almost as if she was sleeping.

“Let’s go,” Warrior said, leading the way back across the hangar.

Scout waited for Ottilie to get to her feet. She stumbled back down twice, as if grief had made her drunk, and once she was standing she was far from steady, sort of leaning back and forth as she stared at the dust from the floor clinging to the sticky blood on her hands.

“We’ll wash up inside,” Scout said, putting both leashes as well as the light in one hand to grasp Ottilie by the elbow and guide her after Warrior.

“Why did she sneak up like that?” Ottilie asked.

“It was noisy, distracting,” Scout said, but Ottilie didn’t seem to hear her.

“She thought I did it on purpose, didn’t she? When she was dying—what she said. She thought I was getting revenge. Didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what she thought,” Scout said, but she had the sinking feeling that Ottilie was right. She was afraid Ottilie was about to collapse into tears again, but the older woman just nodded and let herself be led.

When they reached the locker room, they found Warrior had already laid Ebba out on one of the plastic benches and draped a long white towel over her, covering her face but not her feet. Scout could see the bulge where her hands were folded together over her stomach. The towel was slowly turning a brownish pink as it soaked up the blood. Scout steered Ottilie away from it, guiding her to the sinks.

“I think she’s in shock,” Scout whispered to Warrior as Ottilie dutifully washed her hands all the way up to the elbows.

“I think you’re right,” Warrior agreed.

“What happens if she snaps?”

“She’s angry with herself. She won’t snap and turn violent, if that’s what you’re worried about.” But she wasn’t looking at Ottilie, she was looking back toward the maintenance door.

“Should we block that with something?” Scout asked.

“No,” Warrior said. “No need.”

“But what if there is someone in there?”

“Then they have lots of ways to get into this part of the way station,” Warrior said. “Through the parts Viola hasn’t shown us. If there is someone out there, and they have been evading my detection, they can sure evade Viola’s too. Blocking that door isn’t going to stop them. In fact, I’d prefer if they do come after us that they use that door. That would be most convenient.”

Ottilie turned off the faucet, then took a towel off the top of a stack on a shelf over the sink and began methodically drying her hands. Then she followed Warrior and Scout with the dogs back into the main room.

Clementine was sitting at the table drinking coffee from one of the bar mugs and eating one of the ready-made meals that had been scattered across the floor the night before. Scout couldn’t tell which it was, just a tray filled with some sort of glop in a possibly tomato-based sauce. Clementine ate bite after bite with the deliberation of someone making a series of check marks on a to-do list.

Liv had moved her chair as close as possible to the doorway to the communications room and seemed to be trying to see the screens beyond. As she leaned forward, her elbow strayed too close to the doorway protection grid and it glowed an amber warning until she sat back again.

“Viola up?” Warrior asked.

“Who knows. Couldn’t find the Space Farer?” Liv asked.

“We found her,” Ottilie said. She was looking at her own hands again, turning them over and over as if some speck of blood might still be there, nestled among the freckles and age spots.

“Where is she?” Liv asked.

“Dead,” Warrior said, putting her hands on Ottilie’s shoulders and steering her to a seat at the table, then going behind the bar for the bottle Viola had been drinking from the night before. She filled one of the mugs halfway, then crossed back to the samovar to top it off with coffee before pressing it into Ottilie’s hands.

“It was an accident,” Scout said, although whether she was talking to Ottilie or Liv she wasn’t quite sure.

“An accident,” Liv repeated skeptically.

“We need to get Viola out here,” Warrior said, looking at Ottilie slumped motionless over the mug for a long moment before lifting the mug to Ottilie’s lips herself.

“She didn’t leave us with a way to summon her, sadly,” Liv said. She frowned in disgust as Ottilie sputtered over her swallow of coffee and liquor, letting it run down her chin to stain her jumpsuit. The little rivers of liquid traced snaky paths that seemed to deliberately avoid every spatter of Ebba’s blood.

“What time is it, anyway?” Scout wondered. It felt like it was still night, but like it had been nighttime for eighteen hours at least. Disorienting.

“Three days and some change left sitting out this flare,” Warrior said, then brought the mug back to Ottilie’s lips. Ottilie was more alert this time, grasping the mug in her own hands to control what she swallowed. She set it back down with a deep sigh and Warrior left her alone with it, moving to stand behind Liv at the doorway.

“Are you going to deliberately set off an alarm?” Scout asked.

“If I have to. She can’t hide away until we’re gone, that’s for sure.”

“Why don’t you use one of your clever gadgets to get us into the kitchen?” Liv asked. “We’re nearly out of coffee, and I’d like something to eat besides a self-heating ready-made meal.”

As if on cue, Clementine tore open another package, pulling the plastic strip out of the bottom of the tray to activate the heating element. The food inside began to bubble, the bubbling built to a crescendo, and Clementine split the top open and went back to shoveling food into her mouth bite after bite.

“She sure does eat a lot for such a little thing,” Warrior observed.

“You,” Ottilie said, filling the sound with all her hate and rage. “This is your fault.” She was still looking down at the mug clenched tightly in her hands, but then she lifted her head and fixed those steely eyes on Liv, who sat smirking in her hover chair.

“My fault?” Liv said.

“Yes, your fault. But I don’t quite understand why. What do you gain from this?”

“Me? Nothing,” Liv said with a shrug. “You are correct: I have nothing to gain, no motive, no reason at all to care about you or your lover. It does seem rather strange that it could be my fault, your little tiff.”

Ottilie gripped the mug tighter still. Then she sighed, taking what was perhaps meant to be a calming breath, and drank down the rest of the contents of the mug in one long swallow.

Then she flung the mug at Liv with impressive accuracy. The stainless-steel mug toppled through the air end over end before striking Liv in the forehead with a sound like an ill-tuned bell.

“You stupid b***h, you ought to be thanking me,” Liv growled, putting a hand to the red mark on her forehead. The stainless-steel mug didn’t have enough weight to do any real damage, but Liv was directing her chair toward the table like she intended to run right over Ottilie, who was waiting for her with arms crossed and a look of challenge on her face.

“We have bigger problems,” Warrior said. “Just sit quietly, both of you.”

Liv relented, chin held high in smug superiority at being the master of her own emotions when Ottilie so clearly wasn’t. She steered her chair to the farthest place at the table from Ottilie and parked there to watch what Warrior was going to do next.

“We should get in there, turn on all the lights, check all the cameras,” Scout said, trying to see what was on the monitors without leaning into the doorway.

“Step back,” Warrior said. “And hold your dogs.”

Only then did Scout notice that Girl was growling again, an almost subsonic sound but a persistent one. She was watching Clementine intently, and Clementine was staring right back at her. Scout caught Girl’s collar and pulled her away, bringing her and Shadow back to the pallet they had slept on. Ottilie got up from the table and went to the bar, taking out another mug and half filling it from the bottle. Liv was watching her every move, that sardonic smile never leaving her face.

Scout had expected Warrior to produce another device from her belt to disable the systems protecting the doorway. But Warrior had a more low-tech approach in mind. She just raised an arm and stuck it into the communications room. The doorway flashed red and something popped, then Warrior was falling flat onto her back, bolts of electricity dancing around her still-outthrust arm.

“You okay?” Scout asked when Warrior hadn’t moved.

“Yeah,” Warrior said, slowly lowering her arm. “Give me a minute.”

“Did you take it down?” Scout asked, drawing nearer. The doorway looked just as blandly innocent as ever.

“No, I don’t think so. But I bet I got Viola’s attention.”

Scout heard a bang, the sound of the hatch to Viola’s private room being thrown back against the wall. She was stomping and cursing as she approached, kicking a fallen pillow out of her way as she crossed the barracks.

Then the sound of her curses was drowned out by a startled scream, and Scout turned to see Liv struggling with both arms to hold Ottilie’s knife-wielding hand at bay.