Acid Sky (15 page)

‘I’m sorry. Come and sit down.’ Clare took a deep breath, and told Gray everything that Donahue had said. When she had finished, Gray fished a flask out from under her flight overalls, and reached for two cups.

‘Well, here’s
my
prescription. Strictly against regulations, but then, what’s happened to you isn’t in regulations either.’ She poured two generous measures and handed one cup to Clare, who eyed the clear liquid.

‘What is it?’

‘Let’s just say it’s home-grown. Cheers.’ Gray gulped hers down, and after a moment’s hesitation, Clare followed.

An explosion of fierce heat erupted in her throat, and she coughed. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Tears formed in her eyes. A warm feeling spread through her, but it felt like she had swallowed some petroleum distillate.

‘What the fuck is
that?
’ she gasped finally.

‘Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies. At least it won’t kill you.’

‘Are you
sure?
’ Clare said, and the two of them collapsed in fits of suppressed laughter.

‘I think,’ Clare said eventually, ‘I think that I’m going to follow your advice and not report this bastard.’

Gray nodded her approval.

‘But …’

‘Oh God, there’s a
but
.’ Gray fell back on Clare’s bed, ‘What is it? Surprise me.’

‘Well. Supposing I wise up like you said, and don’t report anything, but keep away from Coombes. He’ll know what’s happened. Won’t he just try the same thing again with the next trainee aboard?’

‘Hell, that won’t be your problem, sister.’

‘But it
will!
’ Clare looked at Gray. ‘I’d be letting someone else fall into the same trap. How would you feel if you were the next victim of his little game, but I’d kept my mouth shut and let you find out on your own?’

Gray lifted her hands and dropped them. ‘I don’t know. Look, I don’t have all the answers. Anyway,’ she looked at Clare suspiciously, ‘what could you do about it?’

Clare went to stand by the window. From here she could see the sunset. How different it looked to that evening when she had been promoted.

‘Oh no,’ Gray said. ‘No, no, no. You are
not
planning some sort of stupid scheme to deal with Coombes on your own. Please tell me you’re not thinking about that.’

Clare said nothing.

‘Oh no. She really is planning some mad scheme to make First Lieutenant Coombes regret the day he met her. Please tell me this isn’t happening,’ she asked of the ceiling.

‘I need to teach him a lesson’

‘Helloooo, court martial.’

‘If I don’t try, he’ll do it to someone else.’

‘You’ll be busted back to second lieutenant.’

‘If I don’t try, I won’t be able to live with myself!’ Clare shouted to the window, and Gray sat up.

‘Well, that’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say all day.’

Clare turned back to her. ‘Do you mean that?’

‘Yep. Sure do. I still think you’re stupid, mind. But it’s the only sensible reason for risking your career to go after him.’

Clare managed a smile. ‘Thanks. That makes me feel better.’

‘I’ve got plenty more wisdom where that came from.’ Gray waved the flask.

‘I might take you up on that.’ Clare proffered her cup, and Gray reached forward.

‘Listen, this scheme of yours, does it involve me?’ Gray said as she shared it out between their two cups, until there was nothing left in the flask.

‘We-ell … you might have to stand lookout for me for a few minutes. But I don’t think anybody will disturb us.’

Gray waved her hands in a sign of resignation. ‘I must really want to ruin my career. Okay, so what are you thinking of doing?’

‘I haven’t thought it all through yet.’

‘Yes you have. Don’t hold out on me, okay? Because I’m going to have to rescue your sorry ass when it all goes wrong.’

Clare looked back at her and grinned. ‘Look, I don’t have all the answers. But he told me something the other day that’s given me an idea.’

Gray shook her head and sighed. ‘I must be mad. I must really, truly be mad just to listen to you. And I’m still doing it. So go on, tell me your idea.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Two days later, Clare was in the crew ready room, putting away her equipment, when her comlink beeped.

‘Lieutenant Foster,’ she answered automatically, without glancing at the number.

‘Foster, this is Captain Hartigan here.’
His voice sounded distorted and tinny; he must be somewhere on the other side of the planet, she thought.

‘Hello sir, how are you?’ She was pleased to hear from him; she had been missing Hartigan’s friendly voice over the last few days. Once or twice she had been on the verge of calling him, but had decided against it.

‘Fine. I’m still up here waiting. There’s been a change of plan – the Denver isn’t going on to Mars – they’ve got a problem so they’re going back to Earth, and the next incoming flight’s going to do the Mars trip instead, so I’ve got to hang about and help move the crews over.’
There was a pause, and Clare realised he wanted to talk.
‘Are you somewhere where you can speak?’

She glanced round her. There were only two other pilots around, but she knew how busy the ready room could suddenly get during air operations. ‘Actually sir, I’ll take this call in my cabin if that’s okay – can I call you back in a couple of minutes?’

‘Sure.’ Hartigan clicked off, and she flung her flight helmet into her locker and banged it shut, and set off down the lower corridor and up the stairs towards the upper deck.

She went back to her cabin via the galley and picked up a mug of coffee, and a minute or so later, she kicked the door of her cabin shut behind her and sat down on the bed.

She thumbed the comlink’s keypad.

‘Hello sir, I’m back with you now.’

‘Ah, Foster, thanks for calling back.’
Hartigan’s voice sounded clearer this time.
‘So how’s the training going?’

‘I’m getting better at catching the wire. Very tricky at first.’

‘Yeah. Well, we’ve all had to do our first circuits and it’s not easy. Even the most experienced pilot needs to practise it every day to stay current. How are you finding the Frigate to fly?’

‘It’s good sir. Very manoeuvrable. Gets blown about a bit on the approach, like you said it would.’

‘What have you done so far? Circuits?’

‘Yes sir, and I’ve done some engine-out drills, and some navigation exercises – getting further and further away from the carrier each time.’

‘How are they treating you on board?

‘Very well sir. Everyone’s made me feel really welcome.’ She felt faintly sick at grinding out the words, and a flash of anger and hatred rose up, making her choke off the last word. Hartigan must have heard it, because there was a pause before he asked:

‘Is everything all right, Foster?’

‘Yes sir, of course it is.’ She tried to sound as bright as she could.

‘Because if something’s up, you can talk to me in confidence, you know. I’m not your commanding officer at the moment.’

‘No sir.’ She toyed with the prospect of telling him after all, but some sixth sense told her not to. Instead, she changed the subject: ‘Where are you docked now while you’re waiting?’

‘On the Denver, but I’m pushed back now, holding position while they try a reactor restart.’

‘Is the problem serious?’

‘Serious enough for them not to risk using the hibernation units. Nobody’s saying anything, but everyone’s thinking about what happened to the
Ulysses
.’

‘Yeah. I can understand that.’ The
Ulysses
– the first manned probe to Saturn – had been lost in deep space nine years before, following a failure of the ship’s power plant beyond the orbit of Jupiter. The entire crew had been in hibernation, and there was no rescue possible, so the mission controllers had to watch as the batteries faded and the onboard systems shut down one by one, turning the ship into a floating tomb. There had been some talk of a retrieval mission, but even that had been abandoned when the ship’s emergency transponder unexpectedly gave out and the ship disappeared from the deep space radars. It was somewhere out there still, but despite numerous searches along its last known trajectory, it had never been relocated.

Clare shivered. Small wonder nobody was taking any chances, and that the
Denver
was returning to Earth.

‘So what are you doing at the moment?’
Hartigan asked.

‘Just finished another navigation exercise and landing. I was just in the ready room when you called.’

‘Who’s been doing your training?’

‘Captain Shaffer.’

‘Really?’
The surprise showed in Hartigan’s voice. ‘
You’re privileged. He’s the most senior pilot they’ve got.’
Her sixth sense prickled again – there was something in Hartigan’s voice.
‘Is he treating you okay?’

‘Yes, sir, I’m being looked after very well, like I said.’ She frowned. Something was definitely up.

‘Good. Well, you know where I am if you need to talk, and I’ll be back down there in a couple of days or so. I expect Shaffer will want me to pick up your training.’

‘Very good sir, I’ll look forward to that.’ She meant it too; getting Hartigan back after the taciturn Shaffer would do wonders for her confidence.

‘I expect you’ll be showing me how it’s done by then.’

Clare laughed. ‘I don’t think so sir.’

‘You’d be surprised. Like I said, we all need to practice. Well, I guess I’d better be signing off, looks like things are happening on the Denver. You mind what I said – give me a call if you need to talk.’

‘Yes sir. Thank you.’

‘All right. See you in a couple of days. Hartigan out.’

She dropped her comlink onto the bedside table as the call ended, and lay back, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, her resolution had failed her, and she was just a nervous new recruit, reporting for duty on her first day. What she was contemplating doing, if she were caught, would get her kicked out of the Corps, or at best reduced in rank and sent back to Earth. Probably never fly again, either, she thought, and that troubled her more than anything.

For Clare, flying was her life. She loved it and everything round it; the training, the camaraderie, the endless practicing for emergencies – it was everything to her. And yet here she was, risking it all to exact her revenge on some worm who had drugged her to have his way with her.

Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head slowly to herself. No. He wasn’t going to get away with it. If she let him, then he would always have that power over her, and she would always be fearful, listening to that footfall in years to come, in case it was his. And if not her, then who else would he choose, and would she be able to sit idly by, watching?

No, she had to do it, for her own self-esteem if nothing else. She wished she didn’t have to bring Gray into it, but she needed someone to keep a lookout. And at least Gray would have plausible deniability if they were found out.

Could they be found out? She went over the plan in her mind again. There were so many ways it could go wrong, and she closed her eyes as, for the hundredth time, she envisaged the consequences. She knew now that the key element was her own resolve. Whatever happened, once she got beyond a certain point, she had to follow it through. She just had to be brave enough and master her own fear.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The opportunity for Clare to get her own back on Coombes came sooner than she expected.

Her training with Shaffer had continued, and she got progressively better at catching the wire on landing, to the point where she was starting to do the descent drill without thinking, and flying the long groove down to the deck in a state of focused calm, visualising the perfect landing. Without realising it, she was becoming proficient.

Shaffer continued to be taciturn with her, hardly unbending from his instructor role, and at the end of each session he shut the aircraft down, did the debrief, and just unbuckled his seat straps and walked away. It was as if she wasn’t there, outside of the training.

She didn’t want to face Coombes until she was ready, and she contrived not to meet him in the galley, eating her meals at odd times instead. There was a knock once at her cabin door, but she kept quiet and didn’t answer.

Perhaps he believed that she wasn’t there; perhaps not, but she saw him one evening, a couple of days after she’d spoken with Hartigan, sitting at a table by one of the walls as she went into the galley. There were only a few people in the galley, and the main service had finished some time ago. A clattering of pans and the shouts of the galley staff came through the service hatches. She knew instinctively that he had been waiting for her for some time.

He looked up, and for a moment she thought; I can’t go through with this. Then she mastered herself, and helped herself to a hot dog from the all-day section, which was all that was left. She walked calmly up to him and sat down opposite.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ He watched her curiously.

‘So what’s happening?’ She upended the ketchup bottle over her plate, and looked up at him, expectantly, as if nothing had happened.

Coombes looked back at her, and for a moment there was a flicker of uncertainty.

‘Not much,’ he said, and then remembered to smile. ‘How about you?’

‘‘Oh, just fine. Kind of wondering if you only did one-night stands, or if you were interested in getting together again.’ She did her best to make her eyes look friendly.

‘I haven’t seen you for days,’ he said, ‘I was wondering if you were avoiding me or something.’

‘Naah. I’m still acclimatising. I needed my beauty sleep. But I’m over it now,’ she grinned.

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘Mind, I had the mother of all hangovers the next morning. Couldn’t remember a thing.’ She shook her head, and laughed. ‘What the hell do they put in that beer they make here?’

Coombes relaxed visibly. ‘I don’t know. I sometimes wonder what’s in their secret recipe. Had a bit of a headache myself,’ he added, and smiled, a confident smile, a smile that showed Clare exactly what he was thinking.