Part 7 (2/2)

Yet.

Cheryl Russell walked into the living area she shared with her husband Sam, disturbed to find him absent. Her extra s.h.i.+ft at the reactor had just ended; as far as she knew, Sam should have finished his s.h.i.+ft down on Moloch hours ago. Perhaps he'd logged in some extra time as well. Yep. That would be it.

She put down the food tray she had carried from the refectory, stripped off her dirty coveralls, stepped into the dryshower and programmed the cubicle for a sonic ma.s.sage. Ten minutes later scrubbed clean, and starving she emerged from the unit, set the entertainment cube to play Gla.s.st's Requiem Requiem and fell upon her meal with a vengeance. and fell upon her meal with a vengeance.

Half*way through her fourth mouthful, something wet splashed on to her plate, and Cheryl realized she was crying. There was a ringing in her ears which drowned out the music, and her stomach rolled sickeningly with a combination of unsated hunger and loss.

She was thinking of Paula again.

There was a knock on the door.

Cheryl struggled to keep her mouthful of food down as she tipped the rest, plate and all, down the recycler chute. She pulled on a presentable face and answered the door.

'Hi!' Bernice Summerfield strolled into the room, digging into one of the deep pockets of her coveralls. 'I come bearing gifts.'

'That's a twentieth*century idiom, isn't it?'

'Nope. Its a twentieth*century gift, though. There you go.' Bernice handed Cheryl a lime*green bottle in a paper wrapper.

'Mineral water?' Cheryl's sadness was momentarily driven aside by incredulity. 'Real mineral water? Don't you know how much this stuff costs? Where the h.e.l.l did you get it?'

'That would be telling.' Bernice tapped the side of her nose. 'And who'd be telling when they could be drinking?'

Cheryl set the bottle down beside the entertainment cube. 'Look, Benny. Thanks for the gift, but I couldn't possibly '

Bernice took a seat. 'Of course you can. I'd join you, but I normally have something stronger in my water.' She glanced around the room. The suite was bigger than her own. The Russells had made it warm and cosy. There was a rug on the floor (who wove that? she wondered), and a couple of brave attempts at art hanging from the walls. There was a simularity of Cheryl and Sam beside a pottery bowl on a shelf beneath a variably reflective mirror. Low*key lighting filled the room with soft curves and pastel shadows. A piece of cla.s.sical music was playing softly in a minor key.

Bernice asked: 'Sam not home yet?'

'Noticeable by his absence, right?'

'Sorry. Just being nosey.'

'Erase it. I'm not myself at the moment. Sam must be working a double s.h.i.+ft on Moloch.'

'Right.' Bernice hesitated. 'Cheryl if I'm out of order, say so but you look as though you could use some company. Are you sure you don't want to open that bottle?'

Cheryl turned away without replying, and moved to the shelf containing the simularity of herself and Sam. The doll*sized figures within were locked in a kiss, the air around them heavy with a spray of coloured plastic. She touched a pressure pad on the base, and the tiny figures waved in her direction, the plastic drifting like motes of dust in a sunbeam. Party time. She touched the pad again and the display froze into a new configuration, one in which she and Sam were further apart.

'We had this taken on the journey out from Earth. We were married on the s.h.i.+p. Sam wasn't originally part of the Eden team, you know. He was one of the s.h.i.+p's officers. His captain married us and bought a place for him when one of the original technicians didn't make it out of coldsleep.'

'Sounds like this captain was a nice guy.'

'I think he was sorry to see Sam go, but he knew it was what we both wanted.'

Bernice smiled. 'Who says there aren't any happy endings any more, huh?'

Cheryl tried for a smile and didn't quite make it. 'I'm for bed, Benny. Catch you in the morning, all right?'

'Sure.'

Cheryl shut the door behind Bernice and wondered just how long it would be before she managed to close her eyes without wis.h.i.+ng she'd never wake up again.

Piper O'Rourke closed the door quietly behind her as she entered Miles's quarters. With Bishop ensconced in the Coordinator's office up on the command level, she knew she'd find Miles here. He was asleep at his desk, head resting upon folded arms. At his elbow were four sticks of charcoal and a skin pouch full of some fibrous brown substance. She gently placed a slim file on one end of the desk and was about to leave when Miles stirred, alerted by some small sound she had made.

'Piper?'

'Miles, you're going to have a killer backache in the morning if you don't do your sleeping where it's supposed to be done.'

'Can't sleep.'

'You daft b.u.g.g.e.r, what do you think you were just doing?'

Miles sat up, wincing.

'See,' she continued. 'Told you.'

Miles smiled tiredly. His reaction surprised them both equally. 'You're right, as usual.'

'I certainly am. Now go to bed. I'll see you in the morning.'

'Thanks, Piper. You're a good friend.'

'Right.' Piper moved towards the door.

'Piper?' Was that a catch in his voice?

'Yeah?'

'You can stay with me if you'd like.'

Piper closed her eyes and sighed. 'Oh, Miles, your timing stinks. Tomorrow, okay? Things to do.'

'It's a date,' he mumbled sleepily.

Piper smiled sadly at him in the semi*darkness and then left the room.

Ace followed Bannen through the pa.s.sages of the base to his suite. She was careful to make sure he didn't see or hear her. She wanted to make sure he was asleep before she got on with the next job she'd set herself.

Triangular decorations projected from the sloping walls every few hundred metres throughout the base. Ace knew Christine LaFayette had been studying a few pieces recently, hoping to pry loose a bit of information regarding the aliens. It was taking a long time and there were no real guarantees.

No real guarantees. That seemed to be the story of her life.

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