21. Bed of Nails
Holliday kept telling herself it was temporary, having the rescued pioneers occupying one of her lesser-used hangar bays. The lowtown's dwindling aid stations couldn't handle upwards of fifty new people at once, not any longer. And these were people that had no interest in being separated and left to wander amongst the City, so many of them still with that that stunned, empty expression in their eyes. They stayed close together, watching the medics come and go to monitor them. Lots of shock to keep an eye on; a couple heart murmurs in the elder folks. She kept the heat cycles rolling warm through that bay for 'em, knowing full well there was an icy draft that liked to cut through when the wind blew high off the western peaks.
The medics kept conferring with her, too, and that was a hassle and more besides; the Vanguard jumped up patrols threefold since the Citywide alarm went out. Lots of traffic through her door; well, hey, least they were bringing back good scrap off the Hive's ugly junk. So while she was juggling Kestrels and Javelins like one helluva air show'd come to town, Med kept on her about making sure none of the survivors got tweaky while they were on rounds. Well, she did what she could. Ain't nobody fallin' off her little slice of the tower, not without her knowing 'bout it. Hard to know about the rest.
They kept to themselves; real hard-to-know people. No lack of gratitude for their rescue; oh they were polite folks alright, always ready with a smile of gratitude when she came by to make sure on them. But they'd left the City for a reason, and it was clear to her that one day soon, when the scares finally wore off, they'd be getting antsy on the Cityfolk. Probably antsy on the girl, too, who even the Vanguard were treating like she was the one in charge over some other Guardian who'd come in with the group. Admittedly, not one she recognized.
Now Beck, Holliday remembered, and remembered well. The girl with that cantankerous Exo Guardian, who had no chip in her arm when she first arrived and a set of eyes fit to bug out of her head.
By the way those hands reached for Beck whenever she appeared – which was frequent - Holliday supposed she really was the one that stepped up. So when the Med Frame approached her with an urgent and quiet alert to be carried, Holliday knew right where to send the message. The only question was who to send in her stead – the tall Guardian woman was away doing who knew what.
. . .
Tam almost took a step backwards in surprise when Beck opened the door of the Guardian's quarters. She was drawn and ashen under the natural tan of her skin, and Tam's first realization was that Adytum's ad hoc leadership wasn't sleeping. Wasn't crying, either. The dark eyes were exhausted and full of the weight of the past week, but no tears. "Beck," she said, feeling worse about the news she was carrying.
"Something happened," said Beck quickly, no surprise in it. She blinked once, thinking ahead, not waiting for Tam to explain. "We don't have a sickness spreading already, do we?"
"It's not that. Med's got everyone caught up on resistances." Tam fidgeted, her arm no longer in a sling but a fine-mesh plas cage that kept it still and gently supported. The confidence she'd managed to pull together during the night flight from Adytum's ruins had its limits, and this was freshly dire news. She parceled out her words slowly, wishing it wasn't the truth. "We had a death during the night. Didn't find her for a while, not until Med came through."
Beck slumped against the doorframe and swore, pulling her palm in a hard drag across her face. "One of the injured?"
"It was Leslie."
The hand fell from her face again, Beck's eyes searching Tam's before crumpling a little, realizing what that almost certainly meant.
It's all my fault. The pleading hand of the shocked geologist, plucking feebly at her arm. I'm so sorry. "Oh, no." Her voice came out sickly and stretched thin.
"The Frame didn't want to say, but I think she got at something and-"
"Anyone else see her?"
Tam shook her head. "Managed to keep it low."
"Well, there's no point in trying to play cover up. Nobody deserves that." She looked away, a distant stare down the open-air corridor. There was a slow drip of water feeding a puddle at the far end and she watched it too long a time, trying to think. "People will know when she doesn't turn up for dinner." She slumped further against the doorframe. "No, I'll come, and I'll spread the word. It's not going to cause a panic or anything, I don't think. Morale will take a thump and we've been low since that night, but I'd rather not hide. She... she put a lot of weight on herself. Shouldn't have. It wasn't her fault at all." Her face crumpled, but still, no tears. "I should have told her that. Didn't have time. Couldn't think that far." My fault... The woman's voice echoed in her head, and for a drowsy second it started to sound like her own.
Tam reached out her good hand to try and touch the other girl, give some sort of comfort, but Beck pulled away easily, not seeming aware that she'd done so. "Anything I can do?"
The firm expression came back. "Just keep me updated. I've... I've got to come up with some sort of plan. Keep everyone together but get them out of that bay. We're not homeless." A single crack in her voice, then she settled again. "I'm sorry. I'm okay, Tam. Thank you for being the one to tell me."
. . .
Vance-17 spared a glance for the stack of boxes next to the doorway of Beck's room. They were still untouched, ropes and plas sealant both exactly like the last time he'd seen the boxes that morning and every other day besides. It was now slowly approaching the darkest part of the night. He glanced over his shoulder to his Ghost, the request for information clear in his gold eyes. The hell is she?
"Still with her people. I expect her arrival momentarily, however."
Vance made a soft muttering sound. The Ghost networked information for him, kept him updated on the girl. His friend. She was exhausted, but kept going. Hiding it. He could respect that, but Beck wasn't an Exo. She was gonna crash eventually, and the way the fieldwork was going at the moment, he probably wasn't going to be there for it. It gave him a neuroelectric chill of worry. "They confirm it a suicide?"
"I'm afraid so. The response is mostly resignation. With the circumstances considered... it was almost an expected outcome."
"Mostly?"
"The younger ones seem restless."
"Kids recover fast. They act out." He moved to the load-out room's doorway and scattered the unused ammo supplies across the worktable. A punchable mess of Hive for the day. He liked it when they sat around humming their crap at empty air. Made a nice, easy knot of targets to just drop in on and blow apart. Trouble was, there were currently a lot of these little groups springing up. Big doings on the Moon, said his morning debriefs with the Van. And Ikora was looking ever more restless since the Seeders started getting frisky. He suspected she was getting more intel coming in than what was going out. Cagey woman. He thought he'd seen a glimpse of green down the halls of the Tower once, but decided to let it go until he had a reason to get pushy.
If it were important, it'd come up. He'd already tasted what being too curious about Vanguard business could mean. If he didn't watch it, he'd end up collecting eyeballs in a soup cup or something. That wasn't his scene. But if something needed shooting, yeah, they'd call him.
He half-turned when the outer door slid open, knowing already it was Beck. She gave him a limp and tired smile. "You gonna sleep this time?" he asked her, curtness standing in for concern.
"Plan on trying. I've just got a few things I need to look through, first." She pushed a hand through her hair as she kept moving through the room. "How's the field looking?"
"It's crap. Everything's greenish and hostile."
"Angela?" A quick glance from where she was framed in the doorway. His optics noted she was losing weight. Not much, but noticeable. One week and the kid's health was already going to shit. That worry came filtering back through his diodes. He made a note to keep the Ghost on her when he could spare the construct's time; there was just so much to get done in the field daily. The Hive made one hell of a push on their territory.
Whatever Ikora had brewing, it better lead to some sort of pushback on 'em. Soon. He liked the work, but even he was going to eventually miss the quieter times. He shook his head and drew himself back to the conversation within microseconds. "She's settling back in quick, though she ain't wild about the circumstances. She's got it handled, though. No rust on that woman, and Cayde's got her back. Was a good idea."
The compliment brought another weak smile. Vance and his allies could only stand as representatives for the displaced Adytum survivors up to a point, but Angela's long-term role among them meant her old position was reversed – instead of being the lone voice against many, she could be used as a voice for many. A political trick and a good one; it gave Beck freedom to wrangle around the day to day crap with an extra meat shield to throw against anyone that might get snotty. No need for that yet, but in a pinch, it was solid planning. "That's something, then." She began to duck into her room.
"Beck?"
The head popped back out, eyebrows raised in a question.
Naw. He knew the answer. He could help in the field, save the people from bullets and lancing laser fire. This part? There seemed to be nothing he could do. "Get some sleep, kid."
. . .
Vance almost killed the transmission when it chimed through his quarters – almost. The temptation was heavy, but realistically, he knew the girl was still laying awake in that little room. Never mind that dawn was only a few spare hours away now. Delaying whatever fresh new hell had arrived wasn't going to do much for her. Instead, he looked the information over with a grimace of dour yellow light through his jaw. His optics picked her up when she half-staggered into the living room, her face lit by the soft light she'd turned on as she passed. "What happened? Another death?"
Would be what she'd think about first, now. He shook his head, somewhere between amused and unsurprised about the information he had. "Bad news, but ain't that bad. Your old friend, Venn. He's in the shit with security."
Her expression sharpened up, eyes going taut at the corners. "What'd he do?"
"Looks like he went over to one of the dinky clubs and got into it hard with a pair of young Dead Orbit techs." He clicked off the message and turned his head towards her a little, giving her what passed for a wry smile. "Bigger and older, so he got himself a beat down as well as a free room in the brig, but hey. As the saying goes, you should see the other guys."
She said a word he knew for a fact she'd learned from him in one of his grumpier hours, spreading her hands. "What do I do?"
"Well, you can probably get him remanded to your custody by morning, seeing as you're in charge of him and his on chipfile. They'll want him to stew tonight; it's the usual hot-head routine. Seen it before a time or twenty." He looked over her wan, baffled expression as it slowly turned hot. Always something new to learn about leading. "An extreme and emotional response from a kid that gets his life thrown around ain't unusual, Beck." He meant her, too, but it whiffed right by.
"It's stupid!" Her eyes flared. Good ol' pissed-off adrenaline. He took it as an upgrade. "We've got to get everyone settled somehow and getting into fights is just going to make us look like- like..." She clenched her fist, looking for the words.
"One incident isn't going to paint the town a single color, Beck." He kept his voice calm, trying to even her out. "Anyone that takes a lone data point and extrapolates your future from there is a jackass you don't need an alliance from anyway. Kid screwed up. Everyone'll glad-hand and we'll keep him away from other punchable people – kinda hard sometimes, yeah – and it'll smooth over." He shrugged. "Send the Arach a flower basket. Something in a nice, depressing monochrome. Don't take this too close to heart. It passes."
She shook her head, not in disagreement. More like disbelief. Yeah, it was always something.
"Go back to bed. Try, anyway. I'll send the Ghost with you in the morning, that way nobody'll guff you. If that don't work, and it should, start crawlin' up the food chain till you find one you can smack around. That always sorts it out."
"Your patrol..." Awkward sounds. She and the Ghost hadn't exactly been chatty lately. Hell, even the construct seemed like it was getting depressed.
He shrugged. "I've got things I can do. Catch up later."
"You sure?"
"When did I make a habit of repeatin' crap?"
The sardonicism drew a little ghost of a real smile out of her before she slipped back into her room. There was a single soft orange light in the room, glinting off a still-scrolling datapad. He shook his head as she slid the door shut. The harder she pushed, the worse the crash was going to be. A thousand fights and countless tactical designs fresh in his mind, but this?
He couldn't shoot her problems for her. He repeated the coarse word she'd just used and went back to the load-out room to work on those things he did know.