Chapter Twenty-Four
A day went by. Despite the rumpled feelings of several people within the capitol, it was not a dead loss. A relatively unimportant monk with an interest in engineering found a file of calculations and formulae which allowed him, four years later and in conjunction with his own ideas, to develop a food refrigeration system vastly more efficient than anything previously devised, which was, in later years, recognised as the beginning of a revolution in domestic technology in Gaea. On a less history-making but more immediately positive note, in the afternoon a small group of Asturian soldiers started an informal jackets-for-goalposts football game in the square out the front. After a statutory required period of hanging around looking bored and unimpressed, a few young members of Silver Star who were keeping an eye on things joined in with increasing enthusiasm. The game quickly expanded to a thirty-a-side free-for-all, thoroughly enjoyed by all concerned.
The game went on for approximately two hours before both sides admitted they had no idea how many goals anyone had and the whole thing was declared a draw. Kegs of beer were brought down from the ships so everyone could share a drink and, bizarrely enough, it began to look like a party.
Gadeth sat on the steps watching, glad to see a lighter mood but not feeling much better on his own part.
He heard steps behind him, and a moment later Serena sat down at his side. It was the first time she'd been anywhere near him all day. He wasn't sure what, if anything, he wanted to say to her, and whether saying anything would make matters worse or better. He didn't look directly at her.
'No-one told me this was going on,' she said. 'I was in the radio room fiddling with things. Do you think I should tell them to cut it out? They're getting pretty silly.' The Crusaders had been in the thick of the game and were now attempting to start a post-match snow fight.
'Why? It's just high spirits. Let them have some fun. It'll make us look better to the locals, anyway.'
'I don't know. I thought I was supposed to be stricter with them.' She spoke rather stiffly. 'I thought that was what you thought I should do.'
'If you don't know what to do, you could ask.'
'I want to know what to do without having to ask.'
'No-one does, to start off with.' He turned to look at her now, and started with surprise. 'What happened to your hair?'
'I got a haircut,' she said, self-consciously, moving her hand as though to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear, except she no longer had wisps long enough to tuck there. 'Hitomi helped me. I suppose you don't like that, either.'
'But I liked it the way it was,' Gadeth said lamely. 'I told you lots of times I did. Why'd you want to go and change it?' Did you get rid of something I liked on purpose?
'I got fed up with it,' she said. 'It got in my way and I had to spend a lot of time on it every day. I only kept it that way to please you and it looks like I can't please you so what's the point?'
We have a fight about one thing and suddenly she assumes nothing about her pleases me? This is ridiculous. Gadeth tried to hide his irritation, but he had never been good at that.
'Fine,' he said. 'You should wear your hair however you want.' She was still lovely, of course she was, but there was something about the short haircut that almost upset him. She looked shorn, like a prisoner or something. Or an orphan. Of course, she was an orphan. It seemed rather as though she was trying to make a statement of it, to throw in his face that she was lonely and unhappy and he wasn't helping her.
'Well,' she said coolly, 'obviously you don't care.'
'What should I say, then? Sorry, I don't love you any more because you got your hair bobbed?' He looked at her hands; she was wearing gloves, of course. So was he; anyone would, in this weather. 'Are you wearing your wedding ring?'
'Of course I am!'
'So you haven't got rid of that, too.'
'I'm not the one who' She cut off her sentence and looked away restlessly, her eye falling on Meruru and Rafel, who seemed to have put sworn enmity aside long enough to build a snow fort as a base for the battle. Rafel noticed her looking and waved enthusiastically.
'Who what? What am I supposed to have done? You didn't let me know you needed help in time for me to help you. You assured me everything was fine and I trusted you. I have to do the right thing, not what's easiest for you. Look at me while I'm talking to you!' Gadeth grabbed Serena's far shoulder and turned her bodily towards him.
'Are you going to have a fight with me right in front of all these people?' she asked sullenly. 'What do you want to do, hit me?'
He kissed her, not at all gently, on the mouth, a hard, pushing kiss that was more of a challenge than a caress. He put his hand behind her head and held it firmly so she couldn't pull away until he let her; when he did, there was an angry spark in her eyes that seemed to match the flush in her cheeks.
'You did that just to make me look bad!' she hissed. 'We said we weren't going to!'
'I never agreed to that. How could you make a promise like that for me? I didn't marry you so I could sleep alone and never see you!'
'It's not exactly an ideal situation for me either!' she snapped back. 'Do you know how hard it is to sleep without you? Especially when I've got Hitomi wittering on in my ear about how everything's going to be all right and she and Van are going to take care of each other and there'll be a happy ending! Everything's gone wrong and I can't even count on you to make me feel better because you're one of the things I've messed up!' There were bright tears in her eyes now, and she turned her face away from him again.
'Serena' He couldn't maintain any kind of anger when he saw her about to cry.
'No, just leave it. I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me.' She stood up impetuously and marched back into the building before he could stop her. Gadeth stared after her. A snowball hit him in the back of the head.
'Oops! Sorry!' someone called. That was all he needed.
As it happened, no-one had actually noticed their conversation but Hitomi. When Rafel got no response to his wave, he returned to pouring water on the wall of the snow-fort to ice it up. It was the first time in ages he'd had anything like fun. To people in the square the steps were just so much background. But Hitomi was walking past, on her way to offer to help with the fort as a sort of peace offering to Meruru, and once more could not help overhearing. She winced when the snowball hit Gadeth. He swatted it away with an angry movement, swivelling back to sit with his elbows on his knees and his hands raked through his hair, clasping at the back of his head. He looked so terribly dejected. Surely just offering sympathy would not really be interfering.
She climbed the steps towards him, and hesitated two steps further down. 'Are you all right, Gadeth?'
He looked up with a little start, and seemed to try to put his face in order before speaking. 'Oh, Hitomi - I didn't hear you coming. No, I'm fine, it didn't hurt. Just soft snow.'
'Oh,' she said. 'Good. Do you mind if I sit by you for a while?'
'No, go on.' She sat down, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms round them. She had jeans on today, partly to cover the graze on her leg, partly just to be warmer. She had gotten some odd looks but people just seemed to accept that a person from another world dressed differently. People in the Allied contingent, anyway; she wasn't sure if the Silver Star people knew who she was at all. She cast about for something to talk about.
'Cold, isn't it?' she tried.
'Yep.'
'I think I might be getting a chill.'
'Shouldn't you stay indoors, then?'
'It's just rather depressing in there. I mean, it's all right on the ships, but everything there is rather cramped. And the sunshine will do me good, I'm sure.' Hitomi looked around the square. 'Everyone looks really cheerful. That's good, isn't it?'
'I guess so.' He seemed to have something on his mind that he wasn't sure how to frame in words. 'Look, you're sharing a room with Serena now, aren't you?'
'Yes. She came to stay with me.'
'Has she - has she talked to you about everything that's been going on? I mean, has she explained why she's acting this way?' He turned towards her earnestly.
'Not really,' Hitomi said. 'I don't think she feels like she's got any choice. She didn't want to move out of your room. She felt like she got railroaded into it.'
'She got what?'
'Sort of pushed. She got confused and got backed into a corner.'
'It's stupid,' Gadeth muttered, turning away again to look out at the square.
'Well - she misses you an awful lot,' Hitomi said. 'She wears a jersey of yours to sleep in. The bumblebee one.'
He didn't respond for a little while. Hitomi traced a finger up and down the side-seam of her jeans leg. Suddenly, there was a startling crackle in the air.
'What's that?'
'The announcement thingy. What's happening?'
'Sorry,' said Serena's disembodied voice, rather loud. 'The thing went - I bumped the - never mind, it's working now.' The people in the square grew still and looked up at the speakers nearest to them, uncertainly. Some of them had been dragging together scrap lumber to make a bonfire.
'I, um, I'm really happy to see everyone having fun. I thought maybe some music would be nice? It's a bit different from what you'll have heard before but just to make it feel more like a party um. Well, here it goes, just yell and scream if you hate it and I'll take it off.' The next thing to come from the speakers was music, the sound of a whole band playing, young men's voices in hearty harmony.
'Help! I need somebody - help! Not just anybody' The English lyrics meant nothing to most people on the square; they looked rather startled by the noise at first, and then a few people began to smile, and the awkward pause was suddenly over. The bonfire builders went on piling and the snowball battlers went on pelting.
'How is she doing that?' Gadeth asked. 'Who's playing? You couldn't fit a band into that little room.'
'Well, she got one with little speakers, I suppose she just put them up to the microphone,' Hitomi said. 'I didn't know this place had a PA.'
'One what?'
'A Discman. You know, one of those little machines for playing music? I showed you mine, didn't I? She got one while she was visiting me. I think it's cool that she's found a way to share it with everyone. Actually I might run in and lend her a couple of CDs - I brought my favourites because I didn't know how long I'd be here.' Hitomi got up, dusting snow off the seat of her jeans.
'What's this song?' Gadeth asked. 'I mean, it sounds pretty upbeat. What's the singer saying?' Perhaps Serena was trying to cheer herself up, or show him a brighter face, indirectly. Hitomi listened carefully for a moment.
'That he's insecure and lonely and he needs someone to help him.'
'To a tune like that? You could dance to that!'
'Mixed messages, I guess,' said Hitomi. 'Or maybe I've translated it wrong. But I think I know this one. We used to have this English teacher who made us sing along with tapes in class. She loved sixties music. It's because of her I always try to figure out the words, she said that was a really good test. And I actually started liking some of those old groups, too.' She saw the look of polite incomprehension on Gadeth's face. 'Do you think Allen and Millerna will come soon?' she asked, changing tack.
'They can't come soon enough for me,' he said dolefully.
Serena returned to Crusade, planning to get some more of the CDs she had bought. They were quite a mixture; knowing so little about the history of alien music she had based her purchases on things like whether the cover art was pretty, and whether the performers had interesting-sounding names. The idea of someone being called 'Meat Loaf' had amused her immensely. 'Heaven and Hell' was also an odd title for a collection of popular songs; she had asked Hitomi if it was religious music and she had said definitely not. Serena suspected that Hitomi's tastes were rather eclectic too, if less random than her own; one minute she would be recommending something called 'trff,' and the next she was saying 'Oh look, Aretha Franklin! Get her.' She said the Beatles were actually very good, although they had gone eccentric as their careers developed. 'Perhaps it's a bit of a mean thought, but I realised the other day Allen wouldn't look out of place on the cover of "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."' They had laughed about that, or at least Hitomi had laughed and Serena had laughed once she had seen the cover of 'Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.'
Hah. I could join that. If I knew how to play anything. Which I don't, although Gadeth offered to teach me a few guitar chords and I said I'd rather just listen to him play. They'll probably have another singalong later, down by the bonfire, teach the people here some of their songs he'll play then don't know if I want to go.
She was passing the door to Allen's cabin, which, perhaps foolishly, no-one was using. It didn't seem right to take over any space that was, by long association, Allen's territory. I can't take over for him. He's left an Allen-shaped hole and I can't fill it - they all see the gaps. He's what they're looking for. On a whim, she opened the door and slipped in. Curled up on her brother's bed, she closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing. Going to sleep in the daytime would be unprofessional and foolish, but oblivion would be so nice right now. Serena had had only had one dream in the past year that she remembered, the one about saying goodbye to the Dragonslayers. Gadeth told her he was sure she dreamed, because sometimes she stirred or whispered in her sleep, but she knew nothing about that firsthand. Sleep, for her, was nothingness.
Come on, girl. You can't escape like that. You can't escape. She sat up with a sigh and looked around the room. It was tidy, which went to show that Allen hadn't lived in here for some time. Someone had put everything in order. She made an aimless tour of the small space, finding a drawer holding a razor, shaving soap and hairbrushes, another full of shirts and underwear, and a chest which on first inspection held jumbled fencing gear and a few books. She picked one up and read the spine; it was another of those sentimental novels that he read on the quiet. Opening it, she found a bookplate bearing her mother's name. Perhaps that was it; he read these books to remember her by. That was a nice thing to do. Serena went to replace the book in the chest, but as she did so, her eye fell on the space its removal had left. Under there, she could see something made of black leather.
That seemed unlike Allen. He owned hardly anything that was black, always preferring light colours. It was a shame; black would suit him. Curious, Serena pushed aside a couple more books and a padded waistcoat. Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath involuntarily. No, this was not like Allen. Of course it was not. Slick black leather, crumpled by a few months' careless storage, brass buttons in need of polish, curved and spiked shoulder armour, with scratches in the brilliant red enamel
This was what had happened to Dilandau's uniform. Why in the world had Allen kept it here? When he took me home from the battlefield and I was so exhausted I suppose he undressed me, I probably needed it, I was feverish why didn't he burn it, or throw it away? Perhaps he didn't want anyone to see it. Perhaps it was just easier to shove it somewhere for the time being, and with everything that came after that he forgot about it he hasn't actually travelled on this ship for months. Someone might straighten up the cabin but they wouldn't look into his personal trunk. Only I'm nosy enough to do that.
She pushed all Allen's things to one side, and carefully lifted out the pieces of Dilandau's clothing, laying them on the floor one by one. Jacket, gloves, trousers, overskirt here, crumpled and extremely ill-smelling, was his sleeveless shirt, soft lavender cotton. Shinguards, boots, belt and sword. Lucky red socks, also somewhat on the nose. Undershorts (black again). The only thing missing was the tiara, and she rather thought she had dropped that somewhere on the battlefield. There was even yes, in a corner of the trunk's bottom, the chain with his identity tag on it.
His identity! I wonder where the clothes he had on when he appeared on the plaza came from, then? Magic you can't trust it She stared at the small oblong medallion, turning slightly on its chain. Neatly stamped on it in small characters was 'D. Albatou, Dragonslayers, Imperial Zaibach Army,' and under that his serial number. She dropped it back into the chest and moved round on her knees to look again at the uniform. And slowly, her hands reached out and picked up the jacket.
First she put it on over her own clothes, just draped round her shoulders, sleeves hanging empty. If they were outdoors in the evening, if Gadeth had a jacket and she did not, he would put his round her shoulders in just this way. Serena started to put her arms through the sleeves but found that they were too tight to admit the bulky sleeves of her new uniform's shirt. After a moment's thought, she removed the jacket, laid it with the other clothes, stood up and began to undress. It was chilly in that room, in just her winter underwear and wool socks, and she hastily picked up Dilandau's shirt. Putting on underwear and socks that had been worn by a sweaty, ill person and then had gone unwashed for months was unthinkable. The shirt did not seem much better; she thought it was actually mildewed. Since she had on a thermal undershirt of her own she decided it did not matter, dropped it and turned directly to the trousers. They creaked as she drew them on; it must be true that she had put on some weight because they felt tighter than they had before, over her thighs and bottom. They were also just slightly short. What a thought. I'm taller than Dilandau now.
Stretching her hands inside the gloves, getting each finger comfortably nested, she looked down at herself, at the neat shell of red and black that now encased her. What must I look like? Of course Allen had a mirror, firmly screwed to the wall. She turned to look at herself properly, to see herself as another person would. She did not think she looked like Dilandau, even with her hair cut short. But she did not look like herself either. Perhaps this is an escape.
She ran her hands over her arms, over the wrinkles of the leather, hugging herself, hearing the familiar, half-forgotten little squeaks of movement in these clothes. Dilandau had been buried in this uniform, or not this uniform precisely but its exact double. Two dog-tags. That wasn't right. They were identity; there should only be one. She traced with her fingers the pattern of gilt on the high collar of the jacket. Under there, she had on her own necklace, the double of Hitomi's. Van said that was not right either.
I look so strong like this. I look so safe. She turned around in a slow circle, watching herself move. There was a sound of footsteps in the corridor outside, and she froze guiltily, suddenly knowing for sure that she did not want anyone to see her dressed this way. She had no good explanation prepared. She was not even sure why she had wanted to put them on. It couldn't possibly be nostalgia. Whoever it was went straight on past the door of Allen's cabin, and she let out the breath she had been holding, gradually. I must get these off. Put on proper clothes again. Put these back in the chest and forget them again. She undressed in a hurry, then put on her own clothes, having a moment of panic when she could not find her right cuff-link, but it had only rolled into a corner and she located it by its shine. She should really have been equally quick about putting Dilandau's uniform away, but she took the time to smooth things out and fold them neatly, according to Dragonslayer discipline and regulations.
Come on, she told herself sternly, be sensible. Here you are in the uniform of a Knight of Heaven. No, you are a Knight of Heaven, I don't care if it was dodgy how you got in, you're in now and you have to do things properly. You can't just go back and dress up like a screaming red devil to make yourself feel better. This uniform stands for much, much better things.
Besides, if I hang around here too long that music'll run out, and I haven't got any more lined up.
Millerna paced the length of her stateroom on the royal barque Therese. She was so nervous and agitated that the only comfort she could find was to keep moving. This upset Allen. He had not wanted her to make this journey at all. At the moment it seemed that everything Millerna most wanted to do upset Allen, to the point where she was not sure she was not coming up with things to do purely on the basis of what would bother him. She could not think why she was behaving this way; it was senseless to antagonise him when she needed him so much.
He would have gone alone, except that as she pointed out, the message asked for her attendance. They had argued about that, as she sat at her desk signing papers.
'It will do your health no good at all,' he said, behind her, trying not to lose patience with her refusal to look at him when he spoke. 'You've already been very ill once this winter and I am astonished that you think it sensible to risk making yourself sick again. What about our baby?' He had been making a deliberate effort to refer to it as 'our' baby lately.
'Our baby will be fine as long as I am fine,' Millerna snapped back. 'And I will not feel fine knowing that things are going to pot in Zaibach because I'm not present! You surely don't want me to desert Serena when she's having trouble.'
'I could go and help Serena without you having to do anything,' Allen said. 'She's my sister, after all, not yours.'
'Am I not to be allowed a sister?' she asked sharply, setting down her pen rather firmly and turning to face him. 'Am I not to have any friends, anyone I can talk to, anyone with whom I can be myself without worrying, as I can't possibly with my maids or the court ladies?'
'You - you have me,' Allen protested, looking hurt as well as weary.
'You don't understand at all!' she said, and to her shame began to cry. She was angry with herself because this was not what she had meant to say at all. She would want to go whoever was in charge; it was her duty as a queen that made up her mind. Allen would get the idea that she only cared about helping Serena. But she did miss her sister-in-law; she missed having someone cheerful to talk to, someone to whom she could admit her fears and say the things that Allen would not want to know she was thinking. She missed how much they had been able to talk, not only about painful things and secrets, but about things as trivial as their clothes and hairstyles, and things as personal and potentially embarrassing as sleeping with their husbands. Serena got rather embarrassed when anything private about Allen was mentioned, saying it was possible to know too much about one's brother, but she was always happy to discuss matters and offer advice in the abstract, with a matter-of-fact air of expert knowledge that always made Millerna laugh. Serena would tease her in return about being supposedly more experienced, having been with a grand total of two men. They would make smutty little jokes and laugh themselves silly. It was such a relief sometimes. If she could laugh, she didn't need to cry so much.
'Oh, Millerna,' said Allen, sounding heart-stricken. He went down on his knees to put his arms around her as she sat in the chair, and kissed her hands as she wiped her eyes. 'My poor little pet this is such a strain on you you know I worry, that's the only reason if you are so determined, of course we'll go, but you must let me take care of you. Both of you. I can't let any harm come to my little family.'
Millerna wiped her nose and tried to smile. She did not want to make her face all blubbered and swollen with tears when Allen was looking at her. She was even more ashamed of the way she seemed to have won this fight, by going weak and girly instead of calmly arguing her point until he was forced to admit she was sensible and right.
Still, it had gotten her here. They were on their way, and Allen was on the bridge consulting with the captain, and if he was not here to tell her otherwise there was no reason why she should not pace the floor. Gentle exercise was surely good for her anyway; it was no different from all those preparatory pelvic muscle exercises she had to do (and that Allen didn't want to hear about). She rested her hands on the swollen curve of her belly. It was hard to imagine that it must get even bigger before the baby was born; there were still whole months left to go and she thought she was huge. She couldn't wear any dress with a waist in it. She had had to start changing the way she sat down and rose from a chair.
'Well, then, baby mine,' she said quietly as she walked, 'you and I are going on a bit of a journey. Won't that be interesting! You'll have to be very good and not give Mamma any trouble, because she has to work hard. So no stomach upsets, please, no backaches - just wriggle gently if you feel you must, and save anything more energetic until we're safely home.' She quite often talked to the imagined baby now, as a way of making herself used to it. It would be nice to think it somehow heard and understood, or at least was learning to recognise her voice. There were times when she did feel very loving and possessive of it, and not at all as though she were being imposed upon. It would be easier, and nicer, to feel that way all the time, and so she encouraged such thoughts in herself.
Deep in her womb, she felt a little flutter, a sensation that she thought of as the baby turning over in its sleep. It was fine. She was doing it no harm. Everything would be fine.