We still weren’t in a position to talk about or otherwise prep for the mission, which meant we were bored. This was time I’d hoped to spend with Morag. Instead I tried to avoid everyone, which can be difficult in the confined space of a ship.
I had thought to practise my trumpet but apparently it echoed. It made me even more unpopular with the others and resulted in threats from the crew. Pagan offered to set up a virtual practice programme in one of the spare memory cubes. However, if Morag found out I would be taking my life in my hands as she could easily hack the program into a death trap.
She was really, really hurt. I’d really fucked this up. Even though I’d known what I’d done was wrong, I had completely underestimated the effect on her. Which meant that I’d completely underestimated Morag’s depth of feeling for me. I’d found out just in time to twist it.
I tried to keep my mind off it. I couldn’t. I tried a lot of wishful thinking, how things could have played out differently. That was probably the most pointless exercise I engaged in. I tried to work out how I could fix things. That was more wishful thinking. I was probably going to die on Lalande and all I could think about was Morag. Though I was coming to terms with dying on Lalande.
I wanted to escape. More than anything, I wanted the booths or to climb into a bottle of whisky. Mudge, who was spending most of his time on psychotropics, which were his drug of choice for travelling, was more than eager to join me. But I didn’t. I wasn’t sure why.
Was she being unreasonable? Maybe the shooting was. Was she being naive? I don’t know. I couldn’t see the situation through the eyes of an eighteen-year-old. The whole thing was new territory for me, and with her background how naive could she be? I just knew that I was causing her so much pain. I could see that in unguarded moments, when she wasn’t putting on a brave face to get through the day. When she wasn’t hiding behind a wall of hate for me.
Pagan and Cat came and found me. I was hiding in another hold, close to the engines. Listening to them reverberate though the ship’s steel superstructure. For some reason I wanted to look outside even though I hated space.
I didn’t like the look on either of their faces. Pagan’s expression seemed one of reserved concern. Situations like these are difficult for most British people. Well maybe not Mudge. Cat, on the other hand, looked at me like I was something unpleasant she’d found crawling through her pubic hair.
‘We have some concerns,’ Pagan said.
It was not a good start to the conversation.
Cat snorted.
‘Pagan, really ask yourself if this can’t be done at another time,’ I suggested, failing utterly to keep the edge out of my voice.
‘Because this soap opera’s going to work fine on the ground,’ Cat said. ‘This shit will get us killed in Freetown, never mind our fucking destination.’
She was right of course. With men and women fighting together it was inevitable that they’d form bonds — people fighting together had always formed bonds. The rule was, never get so close to someone that it screwed you up in the field. This had always been easy for me. I’d seen lovers torn apart and mangled by war, same as I’d seen good friends. Fortunately, after a while you get numb to this. The fear, the drugs, the fatigue all chip away at anything inside that makes you care. All the hand-wringing and dry tears are for when you’re out of danger and have time to reflect. The people who can care through all this are few and far between and die quickly, often at their own hands. I had a feeling that Morag could be someone like that.
She would compromise me and I would compromise her, even when/if she didn’t hate and possibly want to kill me.
‘This situation’s untenable,’ Cat continued.
‘Now wait a minute,’ Pagan began. ‘We’ve accomplished quite a lot with-’
‘A completely dysfunctional unit?’ she asked.
‘You knew who you were getting involved with when we asked,’ I told her.
‘They fight a lot,’ Pagan pointed out. ‘Though the gunplay’s new.’
‘Look, this isn’t Delta Force or your professional and well-resourced C-SWAT team; we’re doing our best here-’ I tried.
‘It’s just not good enough.’ Both of us were staring at her.
I turned to Pagan. ‘You agree?’
‘Well not quite. But she’s right, this is a mess…’
‘You can’t go into the field with someone you’re that emotionally tied to,’ Cat continued.
‘But you want to go in with your brother?’
‘My brother’s a prick.’ I couldn’t believe I was hearing this.
‘Then why are we wasting time going to get him?!’ Maybe I was just looking for an excuse to get angry.
Cat shrugged. ‘Because he’s my brother and he’ll be useful. It’s not just you and Morag.’
‘What then?’ I could see where this was going. I’d heard it a lot when we were back in the Regiment.
‘Mudge,’ Pagan said. I turned and fixed him with a glare from my lenses. He at least had the decency to look guilty.
‘Have you forgotten the broadcast? Fuck. He made us rich, and no matter what he has always been there.’
‘No doubt…’
‘You just don’t fucking like him because he says whatever he damn well pleases and always tells the truth,’ I said.
‘Very admirable I’m sure.’ There was a trace of irritation in his voice. ‘It’s not that; it’s the drugs. We’re going on what could be a very long-term mission.’
‘So? Mudge has done long-range recon. He always takes enough and can find more…’ I was about to say ‘between jobs’. There wasn’t going to be a between jobs.
‘Remember the Dog’s Teeth? How he was? He’ll end up withdrawing, and that will make him combat ineffective. It’ll make him a liability.’ He was right. I was so used to Mudge’s presence I think I’d tried to force this from my mind. More than anything I needed him here at that moment.
‘And you bring this up now?’ I demanded angrily.
‘I had misgivings, but what with the situation with you and Morag as well… we’re struggling, man.’
‘So what do you want to do? Scrub the mission? Because if you both want to call it quits and turn around I have no real objection.’
They looked at each other.
‘Look, can you honestly say that having her around won’t affect your judgement?’ Pagan finally asked.
‘No. What I’m saying is we’ve coped with it before and it worked. Don’t get me wrong. If I could talk her out of going I would.’
‘I wouldn’t try talking to her at the moment,’ Cat suggested. ‘She’d probably shoot you again. I might give her the gun.’
I glared at Cat. ‘Where the fuck do you get off, being so judgemental.’ Then I turned to Pagan. ‘It’s thanks to your brave new world we’re in this spot.’ It was weak, I knew it was, but I was miserable, pissed off and wanted to lash out.
‘Oh yeah, this is my fault,’ Pagan said sarcastically.
‘No, it’s thanks to you not being able to keep your dick leashed,’ Cat said to me.
‘Fine, whatever. Pagan, can you and Morag work on what we need and then we can leave Morag on board? Even if we have to drug her.’ At this Pagan started to look very uncomfortable. ‘What?!’ I demanded, beginning to lose my patience.
‘It’s just…’ Pagan stammered.
‘She’s more important to the mission than you,’ Cat said bluntly. I stared at her. It took me a while to work through what she’d said.
‘You fucking what?!’ I demanded. ‘Twelve years, twelve fucking years is a fuck of a lot more time in-country than you. You fucked off for your cushy corporate job.’ Then because I wanted to make sure I pissed off everyone I turned on Pagan. ‘And you, you not getting too fucking old for this shit?’