Chapter Thirty-three
Phase Two
Elizabeth Cutler
I'm not sure it's a kindness that I use Grandmother's lessons in edible and medicinal plants to supplement the meager rations and medical supplies we receive at the camp, but as Malcolm pointed out, those who wish to give up need only refuse to accept what little help I can offer. So before I know it, on the days when I'm not teaching first aid, I offer classes on medicinal and edible plants. My students, of whom about half attend class religiously and half seem to wander in periodically just to combat the boredom, learn first what parts of which plants to use; when and how to handle, harvest and preserve them; and which parts of what plants to avoid because they are toxic.
By the second medicinal plants class, someone has found an old three-ring binder with a few sheets of paper in which to take notes. Other students begin contributing a few pages here and there, cutting the end-papers out of the few ancient books they have, saving the thin cardboard sheets that line the bottoms of the expired Fleet emergency rations we sometimes get, and any sort of paper label or wrapping that can be salvaged is pressed into service. The cardboard liners from the emergency rations are soon set aside for pressing and preserving samples of the plants we study, and day by day, the book grows with recipes and instructions for how to make Mormon Tea for kidney and bladder infections, how to turn mesquite sap into an antiseptic, and globe mallow leaves into a laxative tea. We learn what's good for sunburn and snakebite, lice, hives, diarrhea, coughs, colds, bronchitis, and asthma, dry and irritated eyes, gas, heartburn, and nausea, even arthritis. A few of my students share a bit of arcane knowledge that has been passed down through the generations in their own families, and when I don't know for a fact that it's been proven effective or disproven, we put it in a separate section of the book labeled 'for future study' as if anyone in this place had any kind of a future.
When they begin to realize that nearly every common, minor ailment can be at least partially alleviated by the plants growing wild in and around the camp, my students begin trying to cultivate a few of them. Because they're native to the area and have evolved to adapt to drought conditions, none of the plants we study requires excessive amounts of water, so tending them isn't too much of a hardship. Within just a few weeks, the more experienced gardeners have the random patch of globe mallow or California poppies (good for anxiety, minor pain, lice, stomach aches, and skin sores) or a tiny Mormon tea shrub growing near their tents. Others take on the task of helping along the natural propagation of slower-growing plants like the mesquite, agave, banana yucca, and various cacti by making sure the baby plants never get so dry they wither, by picking off the few insect pests that might bother them, and by pruning away dead and diseased foliage so the healthy plants can thrive. We could do so much more if we just had a well with potable water, but it would cost so much to sink a well and purify the contaminated groundwater that we're dependent on the giant plastic tanks the government ships in as often as someone remembers.
If phase one of our mission here was to help make the place safe from land mines and attend to the immediate medical needs of the refugees, then we're now well into phase two, building a community. My edibles class quickly turns into an experimental cooking club. Many of the (mostly) women were excellent home cooks before their families were displaced, so once they learn what parts of which plants are safe to eat and how to use them, they're no longer content with drying and grinding mesquite beans into flour for baking, roasting prickly pear leaves, brewing something like coffee from jojoba seeds, and stewing cactus fruit in water sweetened with agave leaf juice. They invent soups and salads, casseroles, and a version of coleslaw that nearly rivals the original. One day, when the government rations shipment includes some stale bread, tomato based sauce, and cheese of uncertain origin, someone recruits a dozen or so friends to harvest and prepare prickly pear cactus pads. Using the mucilaginous material from inside a few crushed leaves as a substitute for eggs to make the bread crumbs stick, they cook them on flat rocks, cover them in sauce and melt cheese over them to produce a very passable imitation of eggplant parmesan.
Of course, it's never going to be enough to stave off hunger completely. We've formed a committee to decide what and how much of the different wild crops we can harvest to avoid accidentally eradicating them. The desert can feed well a few solitary wanderers passing through from time to time, if they know what to eat and how to use it, but Nature never meant it to support a community of humans. In fact, the variety of food we harvest from the desert is far more important than the quantity. Though protein remains a scarce commodity, our carefully managed desert harvest can protect the entire camp from micronutrient deficiency diseases. Cactus fruit and leaves alone have enough Vitamin C to prevent scurvy, Vitamin A to prevent deficiency-related blindness, and high amounts of calcium and magnesium for strong bones in growing children.
We've been here about a month, and I've just finished treating the early-morning session, when a lorry turns up with – dear lord, how badly-needed! – boxes of medical supplies. Not nearly enough, and all out of date, but anything at all is a bonus: dressings, gauze, bandages, ointments, and even a couple of pairs of broken crutches that anyone with a bit of a talent with woodwork could patch together. All basic First Aid box stuff, but I carry it in gratefully, helped by the driver and his assistant.
The 'surgery' has a storeroom behind it – not that it often has anything significant in it. I'm overjoyed as I place the boxes on the empty shelves; suddenly I'm transported back to the good old days when drops like this were part of the humanitarian program Trip successfully ran for so long. The stores are just the kind of thing that would find its way into the shuttlepod for onward distribution to those whose fate the Empire cared nothing about.
The memories are suddenly so vivid I have to dab away a tear. We were doing so well. How could it all have gone so wrong?
Footsteps behind me say the next box is here. I give myself a mental shake. Things did go wrong, and that's all there is to it; now we have to live with what we have. And right now, I'm more glad than I can describe to have a delivery of things that for a little while at least will enable me to make people's lives easier.
Anyone involved in these strictly unofficial deliveries makes a habit of keeping their identity very well-hidden, along with the real nature of what they're bringing here. The satellites are always on the watch, even in a godforsaken place like this, so it hasn't surprised me at all that the boxes of medical supplies are disguised. Externally, we're accepting some tatty old pairs of shoes from a well-known budget clothing store – probably ones where the matching item has gone missing, or they've gotten scratched or damaged in some way and nobody will buy them even at reduced prices. We do occasionally get these, so it won't occasion any suspicion – well, no more suspicion than the Empire has about everything.
Likewise, the driver's assistant has a hood pulled well forward over her eyes, and a scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face. They probably mean she's extremely hot and uncomfortable, but it's a lot less risky that way.
I take the box off her and smile my thanks. Then, to my astonishment, instead of turning around and leaving, she pushes off the hood and pulls down the scarf.
Astonishment becomes incredulity becomes fear becomes rage.
How the fucking hell does that treacherous bitch Amanda Cole know we're here? And how the fucking hell does she have the nerve to face me after what she did to Trip Tucker – to all of us, but to Trip most of all? He trusted her. He trusted her so much. And she stabbed him in the back and stepped over his corpse to take power under Austin Burnell.
If Malcolm comes in, she's dead. And right now I hope he does come in, because after what she did, she should pay. Normally I don't believe in stuff like 'an eye for an eye', but her betrayal was the worst.
"Ma'am," she says levelly.
"Get out of here!" I'm almost spitting with fury. "You filthy traitor! You ruined everything – I hope you're proud! I hope you sleep at night after what you did!"
Her face is set, but I see a flicker in her eyes that says I've hit. And I'm glad. I wanted to hit, I wanted to hurt, and I don't know what the heck she's doing here, but I want her out of my surgery.
Can I get word to Malcolm before she leaves? If she knows we're here, she'll sell us like she sold Trip, and that will be the end.
But as it happens, I don't have to, because before Amanda can say anything he appears in the doorway behind her as if my wish alone had summoned him up.
One look at my face and his previously inquiring expression transforms into one of total menace. Even before Amanda turns around and faces him, he's decided she's going to die.
When he recognizes her, however, the look changes in the subtlest and most horrific of ways. He opens his mouth slightly and he very nearly smiles, but it's utterly bloodcurdling. I've seen him gleefully sadistic on many occasions, but this is a whole new level of beatific expectation of slaughter.
"Well, Lieutenant, you've saved me a great deal of trouble," he purrs, stepping forward. "I trust you've put your affairs in order, or were you not expecting to see me here?"
I'll give her her due, she doesn't retreat. If he'd been looking at me like this, I'd have been racing round the room trying to knock the walls down to get away from him. "No, sir, I was fully aware of your whereabouts," she says levelly as she slowly (and to be fair, bravely) raises her hands above her head. "And for what it's worth, I haven't passed on that information."
His eyes are like blazing chips of ice. "Well, that makes a change. You were very forthcoming about everything else, I hear."
"Respectfully, sir, you're wrong. If I had, do you think Emperor Burnell would have put me in a position of trust under him? He may use a traitor, he might even reward one, but he damn well wouldn't trust them."
Malcolm's expression hasn't changed, except that his eyes have gone wide and unblinking, like a rattlesnake's. "Do tell."
"Just what would you have had me do, sir?" she demands. "Whatever I did, the Chief was going down. Every moment the rest of you waited for me to get to the shuttle put you in greater danger. If I stayed on the station, I had to be either a co-conspirator or Burnell's informant, and only one of those choices would ever allow me to continue what Commodore Tucker started. I don't know how he did it, but Burnell already had all the evidence they presented at the court martial, and more. I just claimed to be the one who collected it, and I couldn't have predicted it at the time, but by going along with him, I helped put him in the position to make all of the changes he's been implementing.
"I've been on the inside since the day the Chief was arrested, along with a handful of other people. The Emperor has plans, big plans. Good plans that will make life better for everyone in the Empire, and I think you know that, General, from the things he has done already. I'm here, now, with his knowledge and consent – not that he knows our exact schedule, but he knows what I do in my down time. He's even put me in a position to monitor the tracking satellites so I know when there's a window for us to make deliveries like this. So, you can kill me if you like, sir, but do it knowing that I am one of the Emperor's closest advisors, and that I'm trying to use my position to continue the Commodore's mission."
I'm not sure whether Malcolm believes it, but he's listened. From a rattlesnake, he's transformed into an owl, all deadly attention.
It's almost impossible to revise the beliefs I've harbored all this time that Amanda had been in the enemy's ranks all along. But then, when I saw her standing behind Austin the day that he and Hoshi announced their engagement, it was almost as impossible to believe she was a traitor. None of us would have doubted that she was one of us, one of the best and most loyal. And if she's telling the truth – and she's risked her life coming here to confront a man who has every reason to murder her out of hand, to tell it – then we weren't wrong. Burnell had snared her and turned her, using the lure of allowing her to continue the mission Trip had entrusted to her; the only possible way she could still serve the dream.
That part is all too believable. I think all of us – except perhaps Malcolm, who was his mentor – underestimated Austin Burnell. The man thinks in five-dimensional chess, I think bitterly. No waste, just brutal efficiency. "Malcolm, I think she's telling the truth."
For long moments, I don't think he's even heard me, let alone heeded me. This is a long, long, murderously analytical stare, designed to strip out every shred of dishonesty from a woman he'd intended to make pay for what she'd done to him – and, perhaps even more so, for what she'd done to Trip. And give Amanda her due, she stands and lets him stare, even though she must know that before she could get her sidearm into her hand he'd have killed her, even now.
Finally, "Yes, so do I."
The temperature outside must be in the hundreds. The one in this room suddenly moderates from somewhere well below zero.
I see some of the rigidity leave Amanda's shoulders, and she slowly lovers her hands. She's still pinned by the stare, but the naked threat has gone out of it. It hasn't gone far, but for now, she's on probation.
I'm still trying to get my head around how the situation has switched so abruptly. "But Trip must have believed you betrayed him." I can't keep the grief and accusation out of my voice. "You testified against him. Don't you know how that must have hurt?"
She nods regretfully. "I know, Ma'am. Unfortunately, at the time, it was unavoidable. However, shortly afterwards the Emperor allowed me to speak to him in person and explain the situation.
"He understood, and was grateful the mission would continue."
"You spoke to Trip?" Malcolm is incredulous.
Another nod. "It was one of my conditions for joining his service. The Emperor assigned me to transport him to his permanent facility so we could talk in the flitter on the way there. There was a lot I couldn't spare him, but at least he knows now that I wasn't working for the enemy the whole time."
Tears are pricking at my eyes. I'm so glad she's taken the risk of coming here, and even gladder that she used whatever leverage she had with Burnell to get him to grant her that interview.
All along, I haven't been able to fit Amanda into the mould of a traitor. She had to be one, but whatever the evidence, however lacking an alternative explanation we might be, it just didn't fit. And now everything fits.
But that doesn't mean she's not still in grave danger. She knows where we are and she's in Burnell's service. He will undoubtedly want to have us taken and made an example of, and I doubt if there'd be any suggestion of commuting the sentence in Malcolm's case – not that he'd want it, anyway. Whether I might be spared, perhaps shunted away to some medical facility on a remote penal colony to spend the rest of my life being useful, is another matter. If Malcolm dies, I won't care what happens to me.
Anyone or anything that presents a threat to me is something Malcolm will eliminate without a second thought. Even if she's convinced us she wasn't a traitor to Trip, Amanda has only to take out her communicator and within ten minutes this whole area will be swarming with hunters eager to claim the reward.
"I appreciate your loyalty to Trip," he says evenly, bending to pull the ivory knife out of his boot. "Unfortunately, Lieutenant, you are now a danger to my wife. That, I will not permit."
She doesn't move. "Sir, if I wanted you captured, I'd have come here with a whole troop as back-up. And I sure as hell wouldn't have come in here to talk to you in person. I'd have waited till you were tied hand and foot to a backboard and tranquillized, because that would be a hell of a lot less dangerous.
"Moreover, I believe you shared the Commodore's dream about improving life for a lot of people beneath the Empire's radar. As I've already mentioned, I'm going on with that, on a far larger scale, with the Emperor's blessing, and there's no one else he trusts to do it in secret until he can get the infrastructure in place to make it legal. If you kill me, you'll be putting an end to that.
"It's your choice, sir. But I'll ask you to remember I never divulged the details of any of the humanitarian operations I was involved in, and West Havens is just one of many on today's schedule."
For a long, long moment he says nothing. I want to speak, but on this one he won't listen. He'll only want it to be his call, one way or the other.
At last, he relaxes and tosses the knife down onto a nearby table. "Trip trusted you, Lieutenant, and so it seems does Emperor Burnell. I may as well take the risk of joining them."
Amanda is too braced to shudder with relief, but she must have known the danger she was in. "Thank you, sir."
She turns around and looks at me. "I wish I'd been able to do differently, Ma'am, but I did the best I could. I hope you won't think too harshly of me."
"Of course not," I say warmly. "I'm so pleased you came!"
Her smile is wry, but it's there. "I wondered whether I was making the biggest mistake of my life, but your opinion matters to me. And the General's of course." She winces – I doubt if she's ever seen anyone who looks less like a general than my scruffy, sweaty, bearded husband. "I guess old habits die hard, sir."
I see the first shadow of a real grin on Malcolm's face, but it's brief. "How long do you think we have before they come after us? I take it Burnell knows, since you do."
She shakes her head. "I'm not aware of any orders to that effect, sir. As far as I know, I'm the only one who knows you're here. And even that was nothing more than a rumor I intercepted. It went no further."
"So you kept it secret?"
A second, even wryer smile. "I can only say that if anyone else had become aware of it, Imperial Security would have got here long before I did."
I heave a sigh of relief. If they don't already know about it, I'm as sure as I can be that Amanda won't tell them. That means we can stay here, at least a little longer. There's more work for both of us before we can move on – unless Malcolm decides we need to leave regardless. He's always ultra-careful, and probably knows far better than I do how much he needs to be.
"I'd better go. Don't want anyone getting suspicious why I'm taking so long." She thrusts out a hand to shake mine, but instead I hug her, just too pleased to have salvaged something out of the ruins. I think she's surprised, but she returns it.
The universe doesn't exist in which she'd hug Malcolm, but she gives him a salute, which he returns. And for just a second I see the vanished shadow of the officer who stepped onto the bridge of the Fortress, rehabilitated at last from the wreckage the other two members of the Triad had created – with the help of that slimy Denobulan bastard Phlox.
Amanda nods and leaves without a word, leaving us looking at each other. After a moment, my husband opens his arms and I step into them.
There's no putting back together the world as we knew it, but at least one wound has stopped bleeding.
One of my favorite lines in this whole story comes from my co-writer LoyaulteMeLie. "The universe doesn't exist in which she'd (Cole) hug Malcolm..." Just imagine her trying! I laughed myself to tears every time I think about it. Now, imagine a universe where it would be natural for them to embrace. Do you think Austin has any chance of creating such a place? Will Liz and Malcolm, Trip and T'Pol live to see it? What about Amanda, Ian, Hoshi and Austin? Surely, they have a longer life expectancy than two fugitives, a prisoner and a slave. As always, if you're enjoying the story, please leave a review.
