“Scout!” Warrior shouted again.
“Girl, down!” Scout shouted louder still, and Girl looked up at her. Scout caught her collar to pull her off of Clementine, but it was too late. Her paws had wiped away every drop of blood.
“I expected better from you,” Warrior said to Scout, extending a hand to help Clementine to her feet. “What’d you put in the coffee, testosterone?” she snapped at Viola.
“It’s just coffee, and I’ve had more of it than any of you,” Viola said. “You don’t see me flipping out and attacking people.”
“I wasn’t attacking her,” Scout said.
“Girl certainly did,” Warrior said.
“Girl hasn’t been drinking the coffee,” Viola said.
“You said to investigate, I was investigating,” Scout said. “She had blood on her shirt. It’s gone now, but it was there. I was trying to keep her from wiping it away.”
Warrior looked at Clementine, but the fine spray was quite gone. Ruth had clearly given her the best stain-resistant clothing if even blood could be simply wiped away.
“It was there,” Scout said miserably.
“I believe you,” Warrior said. “But Scout, she was closer to Ottilie than any of us. And those were arteries that were cut. Severed, to be more precise. It’s not inconceivable that she got some on her quite innocently.”
“Well, then, what?” Scout said, irritated to find herself once more blinking back tears. “If nobody can prove anything, then what?”
“Oh, I think one of us can prove something,” Liv said, and her hover chair hummed closer. Apparently she had joined in the search for comms, but what she had instead was a small metal container, the sort used to store ammunition rounds.
“Was that in Ottilie’s bag?” Scout asked. She had seen several similar containers in the rover, stacked around the table and in the unused bunk.
“No, it was just over there, under the blanket of dust,” Liv said, hoisting it off her lap and onto the table. She grunted, laboring to move the container even with her well-muscled arms. Whatever was inside was quite heavy.
The color drained from Viola’s face, but she just sank to the table, reaching for the coffee with a sigh.
“What is this, Viola?” Warrior asked.
“More of Liv’s accusations,” Viola said. “It’s Space Farer credits.”
“They deal in physical currency?” Warrior said, sliding back the lid of the container. Scout leaned in to see stacks of gold coins gleaming inside.
“Mostly for off-the-book payoffs,” Liv said smugly.
“And quite useless here on the surface,” Viola said. “This was nothing more than a symbolic gesture. It doesn’t mean anything, just leave it alone.”
Like Liv was ever going to do that. She looked over at Scout and raised an eyebrow, as if the two were sharing a moment. Scout just scowled. “The coins have dates stamped on them. Some of these are wartime vintage. Tell me, did you get paid to look away when the asteroids fell?”
Viola flushed a deep crimson.
“Enough,” Warrior said wearily.
“All your talk of not being able to save the little people. This is blood money, isn’t it, Viola?” Liv asked, her voice saccharine sweet.
“I said enough!” Warrior yelled. “You”—she jabbed at finger at Liv—“stop talking. And you,” she said, jabbing the finger in Viola’s direction, “give me the codes for the door to the kitchen. We need something more calming than coffee.”
“I’ll fetch it,” Viola said, getting up from the table. She hadn’t yet defended herself from Liv’s latest accusation but her hands were shaking as she placed them on the table to push herself to her feet. She crossed to the kitchen door and appeared to whisper something to the wall. This doorway was not just protected by her security systems, it also had a heavy hatch she could slam shut and seal herself inside if she were so inclined. Warrior saw it too. She started to step through the doorway.
“No, the girls can get it,” Warrior said, taking a seat at the table and motioning Viola to sit back down in the chair across from her. Liv was parked at the head of the table again, hands steepled as she watched the others move around her.
“I don’t want to go in there with her,” Scout said, glaring at Clementine.
“You’re going to keep an eye on each other. Make us all some tea and find some soothing sort of snack. Girl can stay here with me,” Warrior said, extending a hand to the dog until she crept over to sit at her side and keeping her there by feeding her little crumbs from the tabletop. Shadow followed Scout towards the kitchen. He didn’t growl at Clementine, but he didn’t take his wary eyes off her either. “And take your time,” Warrior added.
Scout paused to give a sharp nod, then followed Clementine into the kitchen.
Clementine opened all the cupboards, her gaze sweeping over all the contents before she started selecting items. Scout filled the kettle from the sink, watching Clementine out of the corner of her eye as the girl opened box after box of crackers, cookies, and hard biscuits, arranging a few of each into an elaborate pinwheel pattern on a large serving platter.
“Nice,” Scout said, not as sarcastically as she had meant to. “This is the sort of skill one acquires when living with the governor’s daughter, I suppose. High-level entertaining.”
Clementine gave a little shrug, the closest Scout had yet seen her come to actually communicating. She carried on arranging her tray as Scout spooned loose-leaf tea into another samovar and waited for the kettle to come to a boil.
“So these are gifts?” she heard Warrior asking in the other room.
“Yes, but not for me,” Viola said. “I just gather them up when they fall from orbit and store them here.”
“For whom?” Liv asked.
“For no one, really,” Viola said.
Clementine caught Scout’s eye and smirked, just a little uplift of one corner of her mouth. Scout gave a little nod; yes, Viola was being maddeningly evasive.
“Spill it, Viola,” Warrior said, apparently thinking much the same.
“They were for my mother,” Viola said in a rush. “She’s been dead and gone for decades, happily married for decades before that. But when she was young she went to the capital on a purchasing trip and met a Space Farer who fell for her hard. He never had a chance with her, she had already met my father, but that never stopped him from sending her all these gifts. The coins, the bourbon—anything here that’s not from here is from him.”
“Who is he?” Liv asked.
“I don’t know,” Viola said. “He signs the cards ‘your lover who dwells above,’ but I don’t know his real name.”
“He must be someone important to send such lavish gifts,” Liv said.
“I gathered that much, thanks,” Viola said sourly. “But I don’t know how anyone becomes successful with such a loose grasp on reality. He has no means to know who even picks up what he drops or surely he’d know she’s not even alive anymore to receive his gifts. I didn’t even know about any of this until just before my mother died. My father was already gone, and I think she found it kind of romantic, having such a fervid admirer.” Her voice had a warmer tone now, and Scout thought it was from remembering her mother, but Clementine rolled her eyes dramatically. Scout scowled at her again. How could she have such a lack of feeling? Didn’t she remember her own mother?
The kettle finally beeped and Scout poured the boiling water over the loose tea in the samovar and shut the lid to let it steep, then picked up the heavy thing to carry back to the table. She realized she had turned her back on Clementine and hastily turned back, gesturing with her head for Clementine to move. Clementine picked up the tray and led the way back to the common room with an almost cheerful spring to her step.
What was she playing at now? No more grief for her adopted mother, not even a day dead. Strange girl.
Scout set the samovar down on the table and took a seat next to Warrior. Liv had a stack of notes spread across the table in front of her. Scout recognized the square gray card stock and the harsh red lines of the most common font the Space Farers used. Scout reached across to grab a few of the cards. The messages were short, just rather benign well-wishes, each signed
“from your lover who dwells above.”
“Pretty tame for a fervid secret admirer,” Liv said, holding one up for Viola to see. Viola ignored her, reaching for one of the richer, butterier cookies on the tray. Her thick fingers scattered Clementine’s careful arrangement, but the girl didn’t seem to mind. She had sat down at the end of the table opposite Liv and was watching them all with a dreamy smile on her face.
Liv put the cards in groups, then examined the messages and arranged them into different groups. Then she sat back, still frowning.
“What are you doing?” Scout asked.
“There must be a pattern,” she said. “There’s no passion here, just words. This must be a different sort of communication, not one of the heart. But definitely secret.”
“What do you mean?” Scout asked.
“A code, my dear child,” Liv said, leaning forward to change her groupings.
“There’s no code here,” Viola said. “He’s a gentleman is all. Not everyone needs turgid passion in their lives.”
“Case in point?” Liv asked, raising an eyebrow at Viola.
“I’m perfectly happy living alone,” Viola said grumpily, then reached for another cookie, holding it between her teeth as she poured herself a mug of tea from the samovar.
“It does seem a bit farfetched,” Warrior said to Liv.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Liv said, tapping her fingertips on the table as she regarded yet another arrangement of the cards. “Perhaps it’s something much simpler. Baser.”
“What are you on about now?” Viola asked, her mouth full of cookie. She washed it down with a long gulp of tea and seemed to enjoy Liv’s wincing at her manners.
Liv took a deep breath, not quite rolling her eyes, as if her point should be perfectly obvious and they were all being dense. “Your mother met this fellow shortly before you were born?” Viola nodded, eyes narrowing in growing suspicion.
“Drop this,” Warrior said, her voice a low growl, but Liv ignored her.
“Isn’t it obvious? The reason this ‘secret admirer’ would keep sending gifts even though your mother is dead and gone?” Liv asked, all false sweetness again. “They were never for her, or not just her. They were for you. After all, she was just a woman he had known for a brief moment, but you—you’re something more.”
Viola put down her mug, her face once more darkening. She narrowed her eyes even further, leaning forward as if she were about to spit something out, maybe a carefully chosen word, maybe a venomous spray like a lizard. But nothing passed her lips.
“You’re his daughter, my dear,” Liv said, quite needlessly. Scout was certain even the dogs had picked up what she was driving at. Liv just smiled at Viola, her faux concern undermined by the glee in her eyes as she waited for Viola to explode.
And explode she did, her whole body spasming before she spewed tea, cookie bits, and hot, scarlet blood over all of them.