That Frakking Music
Chapter III
Three more days of solitude had done nothing to help Laura's mood. She was trying her best to control her temper after 'accidentally' upsetting a tray over the boy who brought her meals yesterday but That Frakking Music (as she so endearingly termed it) had a way of lighting her fuse and her fuse was not a long one of late so the potential for another blow-up was high. She hadn't seen Bill again but she knew he was out there, waiting for her to give up.
'Fat chance,' she muttered to herself, eyeing the offending speakers positioned so inconveniently near the ceiling for the millionth time, as if her glare could melt the electronics within. It was days like this that she wished she owned a sidearm, perhaps the kind with the exploding bullets, then she could just shoot the frakking speakers. Somehow she didn't think Bill would lend her one though, even if he didn't know what she intended to use it for - especially if he didn't know what she intended to use it for. Well, she had to give him credit for some sense. Not much though, when she thought about Sharon imprisoned in the bowels of the ship.
She began to examine the wall beneath instead, the wads of tissue she'd wedged into her ears doing nothing to attenuate the music (and by extension her annoyance) as she felt around the edges of the panels for one that would come away. Really, how hard could it be to find the wire leading to the speakers and just yank it out?
It may not have been the soundest of logic but after four days of being woken so unpleasantly - at five-thirty in the morning no less - she wasn't exactly at her most rational. In her mind beating the speakers was akin to beating Bill and the sure knowledge that this would (at least temporarily) stymie him only made it all the more desirable a goal. She was pissed off that her initial attack had failed so abysmally in attaining the desired outcome, namely, his backing off. Maybe if she showed him that she wasn't afraid to vandalise his ship when provoked, he would think twice.
She'd show him what she thought of his whole 'while you're staying under my roof' attitude. She managed to prise off a panel at torso height and bent to peer inside the shadowy, hollow bulkhead. Ah. The thick mass of wires inside was daunting just to look at let alone with any intention to interfere with them. Okay, maybe if she…
She began to separate the wires, giving each one an experimental tug and listening to see if she could hear it's termination point in the room. She found a couple of blue wires that sounded promising and seemed to lead in the direction of the speakers but upon giving them a good solid yank found that they were more securely fastened than she'd first anticipated. She gave it a few tries, at one point wrapping the wires around her hand, bracing her foot against the wall and tugging so furiously that had they actually given way she probably would have hit the opposite wall, but to no avail. Brute strength wasn't going to do it.
Changing tack, she reached for the large pair of scissors she'd used to pry the panel off. The wires weren't that thick, the heavy metal shears should work, she thought, closing the sharp jaws on the blue plastic coating. At that moment a five year old could have told her that what she was about to do was unwise but Laura, in her sleep-deprived and antagonised state, didn't realise it till there was a loud SNAP and she was pitched to the floor, whilst the room was pitched into absolute darkness.
She lay stunned for several long moments, wondering if the lights had gone out or hers had. One thing was for sure, she had not cut the wire to the speakers for even now, as she lay dazed and aching on the floor, that frakking music blared on. She moaned pathetically, her right hand throbbing painfully, nor was the back of her head feeling too pretty.
'That was really stupid,' she groaned out loud, touching her head as she gingerly sat up, already able to feel the beginnings of a lump. She felt sick.
Her first instinct was to try to find the hatch to let some light into the room but then she remembered that Bill was out there and she really didn't want to have to explain this one so she waited until a good fifteen minutes after the music had stopped before sneaking out of her quarters to visit sickbay. By this time her hand was stinging something awful, though the nausea at least had abated.
'What brings you down here at this unholy hour?' said Doctor Cottle, who was in his office, to which Laura had been directed by a bored looking nurse.
'Little accident,' she said, stopping just short of the thin aura of smoke drifting around the white-haired physician's head and holding out her hand.
'Looks like a burn,' he said, dropping his cigarette into a kidney bowl on his desk and getting up so he could examine it.
'Excellent deduction, doc,' she said, flinching then glowering when he probed closer to the wound. He turned her hand over.
'Looks like you got zapped. How did you manage that?' he asked, indicating for her to follow him over to a treatment area.
'Bad wiring,' she said.
He patted the bed, 'You fall?'
'I didn't fall, I was thrown,' she said grimly, rubbing the back of her head.
Cottle frowned, 'You feel nauseous?' he asked, pulling out a pocket-light and shining it into her eyes, his hand under her chin.
'Not anymore.'
His frown deepened at that. 'How long did it take you to get down here?'
'I'm not sure, thirty minutes maybe.'
'Did you lose consciousness?' he asked, holding up a finger and moving it back and forth across her field of vision.
'I don't think so.'
'You don't think so?' he repeated, eyebrows raised.
Laura got irked. 'I don't know! Does it really matter? Just patch me up so I can get the hell out of here,' she snapped.
'You're right, I suppose all these time-wasting little tests don'tmatter - unless you wanna wake up tomorrow, that is. You could have a concussion.'
'Just spare me the lack of a bedside manner,' she begged sarcastically.
'Somebody woke up on the surly side of the bed,' he noted.
Laura did not seem to appreciate his patronising tone. 'Well, you try being electrocuted first thing in the morning and see how cheery you are. I'd be happy to apply the paddles.'
'Is snapping at me making you feel better?' he asked, thinking that at least that way it was serving a purpose as he felt the back of her skull. Laura didn't answer, turning her face away slightly when he returned his attention to her hand, cheeks flushed. 'Any loss of sensation in your fingers?'
'I had pins and needles for a little while.'
'Can you feel that?' he asked, pressing a needle to the pads of her fingers one at a time.
'Yes,' she said five times over, the last drawn out into a sibilant sigh of renewed impatience.
'Doesn't appear to be any permanent damage,' he pronounced, turning to hunt down a tube of ointment and some dressings from the shelves behind him. 'Won't take a minute to dress.'
He partially used the time to observe her, noting the tired circles under her eyes, the peaky colouring and brief lapses into melancholia when she thought he wasn't paying attention. Tempted as he was to say something he could already guess how she would react to unsolicited advice.
'How have you been sleeping?'
'Mostly on my side, little bit on my stomach,' she answered flippantly.
'Funny,' he said, winding a gauzy bandage round her hand.
'I thought so.'
'Like hell.' he muttered. He might have pushed her but what was the point when she obviously didn't intend to be forthcoming? If anyone knew how to dissemble, it was a politician and experience had taught him that this one in particular was as stubborn as a mule when it came to her health. 'All done,' he said, taping down the end of the bandage. 'Take these with you,' he said, handing her the tube and spare dressings. 'How's your head?'
'Sore,' she said, rolling her eyes at what she viewed to be an inane question.
He found her a bottle of painkillers. 'Two every six hours.' She nodded once, sliding off the bed. 'Just do me a favour,' he said before she left. 'Take better care of yourself. And eat a decent meal for frak's sake.'