Si Vis Pacem Page 23

“No. I like it because it’s pretty. Like you.”

  Rody’s cackle is cut short by Dee stomping on his foot.

  “Honey, it is pretty. Do you like it, though? You’d be the one using it.”

  “Yeah. I guess. It’s alright.”

  “You could try it for a few days and see how it feels.”

  A blush climbs up Nate’s face and settles in his ears. “Hey, if you don’t like it you don’t have to…”

  “I do. And there are too many other options. I’d spend forever picking.”

  “OK, then. Well, I gotta go. Work and all that.”

  Rody checks the time. “Dude, you’re running early.”

  “Better than running late.”

  “You’ll make me look bad.”

  “Not if you come too.”

  “You’re a giant pain in the ass.” He gets up, though.

  Nate flicks a smile at us. “We’ll see you at dinner?”

  I nod. “Obviously. I might pop to the Fed office to sort myself out first, though. Where do I have to go?”

  “Chancellor’s office can do it. Do you want me to come with?”

  “Yeah. OK.”

  “I’ll swing home as soon as I’ve finished work.”

  He picks up his tray and stumbles off without waiting for Rody, who swears at him and rushes off to catch up. The Bens grumble briefly, but follow them too.

  Dee rests her elbow against mine.

 

 

 

 

  That sends my thoughts spinning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Dee blinks at me before getting up. “You, girl, are the biggest dudebro I have ever met. You think exclusively with your pants.”

  I chase after her towards the return hatch. “I don’t!”

  “You do. When it comes to guys, anyway. I wish you would engage your brains, for once, and date someone nice.”

  “I’d get bored and dump them. I want to stay Nate’s friend. I don’t want to fuck that up.”

  “You better make sure that he’s on the same page, then.”

  Nate turns up earlier than I expected, but still late enough that I’ve had time to fret myself into a mess over the whole thing. I set off with him to the Chancellor’s office and try to act like I’m OK, but I guess he knows me too well.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know? There’s no rush. You can wait until you find a name you really like. Most people will keep calling you Pax, anyway. They like surnames around here. It’s all martial and shit.”

  “Yeah. No. It’s not that.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think your name is just fine as it is.”

  “What?” I stop dead. “How do you even know that?”

  “I processed your records when you got here.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  He nudges me along with his elbow and sets off walking. “I figured that if you wanted us to use it, you’d tell us. You didn’t. And medic-patient confidentiality is a thing, you know.”

  “OK. Thank you.”

  “So why are you stressed out?”

  “It’s just… Nate, we’re friends, right?”

  He squints at me. “I hope so.”

  “Like you and Rody, or Dee and I?”

  “Yeah. And like you and Rody, minus the squabbling.”

  “OK. That’s great.”

  “Pax… Alya, I’m not about to fall in love with someone who’s bad for me. Even if that someone is you.”

  “What?”

  “We want different things. We’d be a terrible match. And at the end of this year, we’ll go our separate ways. I don’t want my heart broken. And you’re my best friend, bar Rody. That’s all I want.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yeah. No. But that’s all I want with you. Is that OK?”

  “Yes.” I say that, but I’m not sure I mean it.

  “Come on, then. Let’s get this done.”

  The name change takes less than five minutes. We don’t even have to see the Chancellor: his secretary does it all. I get the impression that she does most things around here, and that she’s perfectly happy with that arrangement.

  When we walk out, I don’t feel that different, but I kind of do. I don’t feel like I’ve buried my history, not quite, but I do feel like I’ve put an extra nail in its coffin.

  I’m still enjoying that sensation when Nate starts snickering. His dimple is flickering wildly.

  “What is it? Out with it.”

  “Nothing!”

  “Bullshit. You’ve just done something you shouldn’t have. If you don’t tell me…”

  He snickers even harder. “You’ll do what?”

  “Nathan, if you don’t tell me what you did, I’ll tell Rody that you knew my name and kept it from him.”

  He gives me a quick one-arm squeeze. “Just for this, you deserve it.”

  “Deserve what, exactly?”

  “You know your new name?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It means ‘heaven’. You’re welcome.”

  He sets off running down the hallway, lanky limbs flailing all over the place. I laugh until I run out of air and plot his murder.

  I keep the name, though.

  Nate and I get back to our room hellishly late, but everyone is still up. The Bens are sitting in our spots, playing cards with the guys. The place looks like a third-rate gamblers’ den from a bad threedee. The guys have got the bunk lights down as low as they will go and have draped some red fabric over them for extra ambiance. The effect is only slightly spoiled by the fact that the fabric in question consists of Rody’s shorts. However artfully arranged, undies are undies. Nate ruins it all, anyway, because he turns the main light on, frying everyone’s retinas, before declaiming, “Stop the press! Shocking events are afoot!”

  While the guys shade their eyes and swear, Rody throws his lucky hat right at Nate’s face. “Why do you always descend upon us like a calamity?”

  “What? I can’t hear you.”

  “Turn your bloody implants on, then!” bellows Rody, while miming pushing something in his ears.

  “Just kidding.” Nate leaps on the table, scattering cards and counters all over the place. “I have news!”

  Rody snatches his ankle and tries to pull him off. “You have shit! You’re just back from a gig. You’re half drunk and Alya is in love.”

  “Yes!” Nate jumps off the table and grabs Rody by the shoulders, staring ardently into his eyes. “But this time it’s different!”

  “Really? So this time it’s not a lanky, dark-haired, brooding musician?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  Dee throws her cards on the table. “My credit is on a guitarist.”

  Rody snorts. “What credit? You’ve been losing all evening. Mine’s on a bass player. The human cannonball said he had news, and he doesn’t lie. Nor does he do anything requiring any subtlety, ever. A guitarist would hardly be news.”

  “Neither would a bass player,” says Ben One. “Last week’s was one.”

  “Was not,” says Nate. “Last week was a guitarist. The week before was a bass player. Not that it matters, as none of them can play.”

  “They c
an too!” I sputter.

  Rody gets up, rummages in one of his drawers, picks up two bottles of the gods-only-know-what, and hands me one before flopping back in his seat. “Baby girl, doesn’t it give you pause that the only person you know who’ll listen to your music has hearing implants and turns them off for the occasion? I’d call that a hint.”

  “You guys just don’t get it.”

  “You can say that again. So, who was it this time?”

  “If you must know…”

  “We all must,” he nods. “It’s essential to our survival and well-being.”

  “…an accordionist.”

  They all look at me like I’ve sprouted horns.

  Nate smirks. “See? I told you it was shocking news!”

  Dee snatches the bottle right out of my hand and rests it on her forehead. “I must be ill. I’m hearing things. Honey, what kind of punk band has an accordionist?”

  “We went to the folk club in town.”

  “You did what?” she squeaks.

  “The music sounded great from the outside, so we went in.”

  Nate squeezes next to Rody, nearly sending Ben Two into the wall, and snatches his drink. “I liked it, even with my implants on. That’s a first. Shame we might be banned.”

  Rody snatches the drink back. “How the hell do you get banned from a folk club?”

  “Alya decided that the appropriate way to manifest her appreciation was to headbang her way through the entire set.”

  “I did no such thing! I stayed sitting!”

  Nate blows me a kiss. “People can headbang while sitting. Well, you can. Normal people either can’t or won’t.”

  “You are so funny.”

  “Not half as funny as the look on those poor people’s faces. You were catharting hard.”

  “Catharsis isn’t a verb!”

  His dimple winks at me. “It is when you do it.”

  “And I am going back. They can’t stop me.”

  “You’re right. They’re probably too scared.”

  “Why do you always have to exaggerate?”

  Dee hands me back what’s left of my drink. “So you had a good night?”

  “The best. You?”

  “Much better since you waltzed in and stopped these monsters from taking advantage of me. They were cleaning me out.”

  “Glad to be of service. You do remember you’re playing for imaginary credit, though, don’t you? All you could have lost was your winning record, and you don’t have one of those.”

  Rody kicks my foot under the table. “Leave my girl alone. She’s not enough of a cutthroat to prevail at this kind of endeavor because she has actual feelings, like humans do. You wouldn’t understand it.”

  I’m just about to tell him where he can shove his feelings when a loud tap on the door interrupts me. Rody flows off his seat, snatches his shorts from the nearest light, puts them on his head, and pirouettes to the door. When he opens it, Martyn is standing in the hallway, looking supremely out of place. It takes me a couple of moments to work out what’s wrong with him: he is wearing clothes. I’ve never seen the guy out of uniform. Hell, I’ve hardly seen him out of the med bay outside of meal times. He doesn’t look happy at all to be here, either. At work he is always so confident and precise, but right now he looks awkward and bewildered.

  “Sorry to bother you so late.” He takes in Rody’s attire and his eyes widen. “Oh, shit. How drunk are you guys?”

  Rody bows at him and waves him in. “Barely tipsy. Why?”

  “Because you’re wearing underpants on your head.”

  “No, I mean, yes, I am.” He takes them off. “It made sense at the time. Why do you need us to be sober?”

  “A com came in. There’s an emergency coming up. All hands on deck.”

  Rody goes rigid, all the playfulness drained out of him. “How bad?”

  “Bad. The service staff are clearing out the classrooms near the med bay. We’ll need the space.”

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “I don’t know, but twenty-two injured Patrolmen are going to be arriving in ten hours. We need to make sure we are ready to receive them.”

  “Twenty-two? Injured how?”

  “Injured bad. That’s all you need to know for now.”

  “There are only five of us, and the Bens only know the basics! We have eight beds! We can’t possibly accommodate that many patients!”

  “We have to, so we will. They’ll have their own beds. Stretchers, anyway. Most of them can’t walk.”

  “How many medics are coming with them?”

  “Two. No med assists. We’re going to be pushed. Get some rest. I want you in tomorrow at six. Don’t worry about classes and cancel all other commitments. I’ll try and make it up to you, but I’ll need you.”

  “Is it really that bad?”

  “It’s worse.” He nods curtly at us, turns on his heels, and stalks off.

  Rody stays by the door for a few moments, staring out. When he finally shuts it and turns around, he looks lost. “Well, shit. What do we do?”

  Nate leans forward and clicks his fingers in the air. “Snap out of it. We do our job. We do our best. We do what Martyn tells us. It’ll be alright.”

  Ben Two shakes his head. “Man, three medics and four fuckwits doesn’t seem enough for so many patients. Not if they’re hurt bad.”

  “Speak for yourself. My man Rody and I are the two finest med assists credit can buy.”

  “Maybe so, but the range of experience we’ve all got is pretty limited. A handful of injured miners doth not a trauma medic make.”

  Rody strides over and plops himself down in his seat. He’s got his confident expression back, though it looks a bit strained. “Nate is right. Martyn will sort it out. It can’t be that bad. You lot need to chill.”

  All the same, nobody seems to be in the mood for drinking or playing anymore, him included, and when the Bens get up to turn in nobody stops them. We all turn in ourselves shortly after.

  I can’t fall asleep for the longest time. I try not to toss and turn because I don’t want to disturb everyone else, but judging by the sound of their breathing they aren’t sleeping either. I can feel the soft hum at the base of my skull that means that Dee is ‘pathing. She must be talking to Rody. I’d talk to her too, but I can’t think of a single good thing to say.

  3.

  Aside from the fact that we’re all wound up and sleep-deprived, the day starts off as normal. The guys and the Bens wolf down their breakfast and rush over to help Martyn set up some of the rooms near the med bay. Dee ‘paths Rody a few times during our first lesson. Everything seems to be going well.

  We’ve just settled ourselves in for the second lesson when she gets up and grabs my arm. “Come on. We’ve got to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Med bay. The guys need us.”

  The adjunct glares at us walking out as he walks in, but Dee doesn’t even acknowledge his existence. As we go down the hallway, she speeds up until we’re almost running, but it still seems to take us forever to get there. When we do, I don’t understand what the rush was.

  The med bay hallway is eerily quiet. I can’t hear or see anyone. I was expecting some kind of emergency, so I can’t work out what’s going on. I peer through a door as we walk and I can see four stretchers interspersed with wheeled terminals, the graphs on the screens the only movement in the room. The Patrolmen on the stretchers are completely still. For a moment I think they must be dead and I’m frozen in my tracks. When I see their chests rise and fall I realize that I was wrong, that they are only sleeping. I’ve been holding my breath so long I’m starting to feel dizzy, so I make myself run through four breath cycles. They do nothing to make me feel better, but at least I manage to unfreeze.

  I catch up with Dee, who froze up in a different doorway. When I see what she’s looking at I freeze up, too. The Bens are hugging in the middle of the room, surrounded by more stretchers and terminals. I’ve never seen th
e Bens hug each other or anyone else. They’re great guys, but they’ve definitely bought into the Academy’s idea of what is appropriate behavior for a future Patrolman, and public displays of affection definitely do not meet those criteria. When the Bens finally unlatch and step back from each other, I decide that something fuck-awful has definitely happened. They’ve both been crying. Ben One spots us first and rubs his eyes furiously as he shoulders his way out through us. Ben Two stays where he is, red-rimmed eyes boring into mine.

  “We lost one,” he croaks. “It was probably for the best.”

  I grab Dee’s arm and drag her along with me, more to get away from Ben’s face than to move towards whatever awaits us. We find Martyn and the guys standing around a stretcher in the last room. When he spots us, Rody stalks towards us and drags us away from the door. I don’t know why he bothers: we’ve already seen all there is to see, and it isn’t much. They wouldn’t cover a living patient head to toe with a sheet, so this must be the dead one. The shape under the sheet, though… I try to stop my brain from going there, but it insists in informing me that the human body is meant to have more limbs than that.

  When we’re out of everyone’s way, Rody growls at me, close enough that I can feel spittle land on my face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Dee said you needed us!”

  He turns to Dee and takes a long breath before attempting to speak. Even then, his tone is far from calm. “I told you to stay out of this.”

  She nods. “You did. But you’re going to need us.”

  “I don’t have time for this! In a few minutes these people are going to start coming around from their anesthetic and it’s going to be chaos!”

  “Yes. That’s why you need us.”

  “Dee, I want you to go away! Right now!”

  She smiles serenely at him and strokes his shoulder. “I know you do, sweetheart. I love you too. Where do we start?”

  Rody closes his eyes and pushes his hands hard against his temples. I’m pretty sure that if anyone else but Dee was pulling a stunt like this, he would sling them out of the hallway, probably without bothering to open the door first. That’s Dee’s superpower, though: it’s almost impossible to be angry with her.

  When Rody opens his eyes again, he has gone from hot fury to cold resignation. “OK. You come with me. Pax, you go with Nate. We take the right side, you take the left. If you get done before we do, come find me. If any of us or the Bens tell you to do something, you do it, no questions asked. We won’t have time to explain anything.”