Infinity's End: Books 4-6, page 6
“I know. I’m just on edge.” She turned away from him, the light streaming in from the windows turning her skin a warmer shade of beige.
“Lead the way.”
Chapter Nine
Evie took a few breaths as they approached the entrance to her father’s wing of the facility. Due to the benevolence of the Coalition he had larger quarters than most, and his came with assistance whereas most people who stayed here wouldn’t need it. Then again, her father was a special case. If she believed Cas’s theories about the Coalition—some which she’d admittedly seen herself—he would probably say they had him in larger quarters to help keep him quiet. Though it wasn’t as if he held any sensitive information. He’d been a simple physicist.
Before they reached the door, it opened before them to reveal a rotund woman with arms the size of an ox. The few lines on her face lived around her mouth, as if she’d smiled too often. Macha was virtually unchanged from the last time Evie had seen her. She was still dressed in the same seafoam green scrubs she’d been wearing when Evie called a week ago, though her normally bound hair was free today, its natural curls bouncing as she reached out to greet Evie.
Evie stuck her hand out, but Macha pulled her into a hug, pinning her arms to her sides as she squeezed. “It’s so good to see you again, Commander Diazal,” Macha said, finally releasing her. “I almost called you Lieutenant. I can never keep up with all the ranks, you breeze through them so fast.”
“This is my associate, Mr. Caspian Robeaux.” If Macha recognized the name she didn’t show it, instead she pulled Cas into a hug as well, which, according to the look on his face, he hadn’t been expecting. Evie smiled for the first time since they’d arrived on Cypaxia.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Macha said, releasing Cas. “I only rarely get to meet the commander’s friends. It’s good you could come. Both of you.”
Evie straightened her uniform. “Cas will be staying out here. I don’t want to upset Father any more than necessary.”
“I wish I could tell you what to expect,” Macha said. “But he’s been more erratic than usual lately. And he’s been painting more. A lot more.”
“We saw a few as we came in, it doesn’t look like he’s losing his talent there.” Evie wanted to get through these formalities as quick as possible. If she could she’d just pop in, talk to him a minute and then leave. Just enough to assuage her conscience. That was all she needed.
“No, not at all,” Macha said. “It’s the one area where he seems to be improving. Everything else though…” Evie knew that look. It was the one doctors gave you when you knew the news wasn’t good. And it wasn’t as if she wasn’t already expecting this. He’d been on the downward slope for a long time; but time had finally caught up with the old man.
“Anything else I need to know?” she asked.
Macha shook her head. “Just be careful. We’ve had to remove some of his knick-knacks as he’d taken to throwing them whenever he got upset. The only things we let him use now are the brushes to paint with.”
Evie steeled herself and nodded. Macha hesitated a moment then used her thumb to activate the door she’d come through. It slid open revealing an antechamber that split off in two directions. Macha’s quarters were off to the left, her father’s on the right. The door closed behind her, leaving her alone in the small space. She pressed her hand against the call pad waiting for it to blink three times. There was no answer which wasn’t surprising considering the state he’d been in the last time they’d spoken. She tapped the pad twice again and the door slid open to reveal her father’s main sitting room. To her left sat a long gray couch though she could see old stains of paint covering the fabric. Beyond that was an open balcony where the soft breeze from outside danced inside, tickling the heavy curtains into a back and forth swish. The smell of the sea permeated the air. In front of her sat her father, his back to her as he sat on his stool, his hands working a canvas in front of him, dozens of paints and colors strewn around the easel on small stools or tables. He would drag the brush across the canvas in a hurried manner then dip the brush into the cleaner, hitting it against the stained easel several times and dip it into another color in almost a manic dance. It was as if he couldn’t get the colors on the canvas fast enough. Around him sat dozens of finished canvases, all stacked against the walls or under the desk, though a few leaned up against the couch and the sitting table in the middle of the room. Everything else had been removed except the comm unit she’d used to call him on; it was still embedded in the wall to her right.
It struck her she hadn’t seen him paint since she was a little girl. But then he’d taken more time and care in his work, only painting when he had an abundance of free space in his schedule, which wasn’t often. He’d let her sit and watch as he created something from an absolute blank canvas, mixing colors and shapes in ways she couldn’t even conceive of.
Yet, he’d never gifted her one of his paintings. Not when she graduated from the academy, not when she got her first posting, and not when she’d been promoted. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind she’d hoped once she reached captain of her own ship it might change the situation, but she already knew better. Nothing would ever be good enough, and still, thirty-one years later she still didn’t know why.
“Dad?” she asked, willing the weakness out of her voice. He spun in his chair, his eyes wild and she almost took a step back. They’d sunken into his skull and lost any sort of sparkle or luster they may have once held. His cheeks had grown shallow and his white hair was thinner than she’d ever seen it, the skin of his head clearly visible underneath. And all this despite the fact he was only sixty years old. He looked more like ninety. Even the difference from when they’d last spoken was jarring. What had happened to him in such a short amount of time?
“Amanda?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“N-no, Dad. It’s me, Evelyn.” The brush in his hand clattered to the ground.
“Who?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Your daughter. We spoke last week, don’t you remember?” Was he really this bad off? He’d seemed somewhat more cognizant last week. But then to Evie it felt like a year ago too.
“You said you’d visit,” he croaked. “You said—you said—” He jumped up, grabbed the painting he’d been working on and threw it across the room in the direction of the open balcony where it landed face-down on the carpet. “How can you be here, you’re on the Saratoga.” His voice was full of hatred and vitriol, but Evie wouldn’t back down. She’d cowered before this man too much in her life and it was stopping now.
“No, I told you. I’m on Tempest now,” Evie said, the strength in her voice returned. “Now calm down.”
Osborn sneered at her then his face twisted, and he fell down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. He wore an ankle-length robe that hitched slightly as he sat. But even with the robe she could tell he was emaciated. She needed an update on his eating habits from Macha. Clearly something was wrong with him. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice that of a child who had been placed in time out.
“To see you. But not if you’re going to act like this. My ship was coming through the system and I thought—” What? That they’d be able to patch up thirty years of emotional abuse in an hour or two? No, this was a mercy calling. She was here so she could get over any guilt she felt about not visiting earlier. The man was unstable and erratic, and had she come on more visits she would have only been subject to further abuse. She’d made the right call and now this was how she would remember him, cowering on the floor.
“Evelyn,” he said softly. “I’m glad you came.” His eyes had averted from her, focused on something only he could see as he wasn’t looking at anything in the room. “I’ve missed you.”
“Have you? It’s hard for me to tell anymore.”
“I’m dying,” he said.
“I can see that. What happened?”
He glanced up, the milkiness of his eyes focusing on her own. “Amanda happened,” he whispered.
Amanda. Macha had mentioned he’d been raving about her. But as far as Evie knew, he knew no Amanda. Not that he’d ever spoken about anyway. Which could only mean one thing. “You’ve never mentioned her. Is Amanda my mother?”
“Yesss,” he hissed. “She was on the ship; she was in the escape pod.” He pressed himself back into the wall, as if the word itself scared him and Evie couldn’t help but reflect on how the tables had turned. How she was the one in full control of her capacities while he was the one left cowering and scared on the floor. And for a moment she felt satisfaction that he could feel that terror he’d often inflicted onto her. But the temporary pleasure faded like a shadow in fog. She didn’t want to make him feel scared, that wasn’t the kind of person she was, and it definitely wasn’t the person she wanted to be. If anything, she would get through this life not following Osborn Diazal’s example.
“Tell me everything,” Evie said. Was this what it took to get information from him? If she was on the pod, why wasn’t she rescued when the rest of the crew was picked up? Where was she? At least now Evie had a name. How many people aboard the Austin could have been named Amanda?
“She was there, and then she wasn’t there. It—” Osborn grabbed the sides of his head. “It hurts! I’m not supposed to talk about her. Made me promise!”
“She made you promise what? Tell me what happened.” Evie rushed forward and grabbed him by the arms. She’d been waiting for this information her entire life and she wasn’t about to let a degenerative brain disease get in the way of finding out her parentage.
Osborn jerked his head back and forth, closing his eyes as if he was trying to shake off the form of a specter. He convulsed in her hands and she had trouble holding on to him. He was small and bony, but still remarkably strong. “Can’t, Evie. No one…supposed to know.”
“Just tell me, you senile old man!” she yelled, shaking him. His eyes went wide, and he pitched forward, shoving Evie on her back. He pinned both her arms with his and straddled her stomach, holding her down. Despite all her Coalition training she was having difficulty getting him off her. It was as if he were possessed by a man ten times his strength and size.
He leaned in close, his rancid breath coming out in waves. “You want to know the secrets? You stupid little girl, you’ve never been anything but a nuisance. I never wanted you, she did,” he hissed. She kept trying to get some leverage to push him off, but his words were slinking into her brain, causing it to misfire. She couldn’t concentrate on getting him off her, only on what he was saying. “Your mother left you with me. She couldn’t take the pressure. She couldn’t deal with you, so she left you to me.”
“Where?” Evie yelled. “Where did she go?”
“Oblivion,” he growled. “She stepped off the pod into the recesses of space.” His face was a gnarled mash of old skin staring down at her and bits of spittle peppered her face.
“What are you saying?”
“She killed herself because she couldn’t deal with you. That’s what happened to your mother.”
Chapter Ten
“Have you known Evie long?” Cas asked as he and Macha stood on either side of the main doors like guards waiting for royalty.
She gave him a quick smile. “Only a few years. Ever since we began taking care of Mr. Diazal. Most days he’s docile, but others…”
“What’s wrong with him?” Cas leaned up against the wall on the far side of the door.
“We’re not sure. The doctors can’t figure it out, but there’s something tearing at his brain, pulling it apart piece by piece and slowly driving him mad. We try to make him as comfortable as we can, give him everything he needs but he deteriorates a little every day. This last week has been the worst. I can’t tell you what good timing it is the commander showed up when she did. I wasn’t sure he was going to make it when we last talked. Your ship was a lot further out.”
“Yeah, we, uh…found a shortcut.” Cas glanced over at the paintings along the wall. “Seems like his aptitude for painting is going strong.”
“Ironically, he’s been doing some of his best work in this past year. It’s like the longer he’s been here the better—” Macha snapped her gaze down to the comm unit embedded in the back of her hand. It flashed a bright red under the skin and her face shifted into one of concern. She ran to the antechamber door, opening it for both of them.
“What is it?” Cas asked. She pushed past him and entered a sequence in the door to the right, and it slid open to reveal Evie being held on the floor by what looked like a frail old man. His face was within centimeters of her own.
“Mr. Diazal!” Macha yelled, running over to him and grabbing him under the armpits. “That is your daughter. Get off her!”
Diazal only snarled and knocked her back. Cas didn’t know how he had the strength to do it, but he returned his gaze to Evie, who struggled under his grasp. Cas bent down and shoved all his weight into the old man and knocking him off her, sending him and Cas sprawling to the ground. Cas had just a second to appreciate the beautiful view out the window before Diazal flailed under him, trying to reach up and scratch his face. He heard Macha yell something into her comm before she ran over and helped get him under control. Cas couldn’t see Evie, he only hoped she was okay.
“Mr. Dia—Mr. Diazal, stop strug—stop!” she yelled, grabbing his hands and pinning them down. Cas managed to get the man’s legs under him, so they’d stop kicking. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Evie come into view. With a look of disgust, she wiped her face, leaned down to the old man and slapped him across the cheek, hard. She reached up to do it again when three other large men burst into the room, all wearing a variation of Macha’s uniform. They ordered everyone back and took over for Cas and Macha as they wrangled Diazal under their control.
“Commander, are you okay?” Macha asked as they restrained Osborn with electronic cuffs on both his hands and feet.
Evie looked shaken to say the least. Her face was pale, and she drew deep breaths like she might hyperventilate. Cas reached up to touch her shoulder and she recoiled from him, giving him a death glare. She shook out her hands, and wiped her face again watching the men get Diazal on his feet and take him into a different room.
“Nothing but a goddamn mistake!” he yelled. “Not even supposed to be here!” The doors closed behind him, cutting off his ranting.
“Commander, I am so sorry,” Macha said. “I never should have let you in here with him alone.”
Evie clenched and unclenched her fists, walking around the room in no discernable pattern. What in the hell had he been trying to do? Assault her? His own daughter? That man needed to be locked up for what little life he had left. Cas hadn’t realized her father was so old. He must have been in his fifties when Evie was born.
“It’s not your fault.” Evie rolled her shoulders and shook her head, like she was trying to cleanse herself of something disgusting and Cas couldn’t blame her. “What is he on?”
“Excuse me?” Macha asked.
“What sort of stimulants? Drugs?” She stopped walking for a moment, watching Macha.
“He’s on Mursipram for his anxiety, but it’s a depressant.” She glanced to the closed door. “Clearly the dose is too low.”
Evie shook her head. “No, he’s on something else. I should have been able to easily throw him off. He’s got to be on an enhancement, maybe something someone here is slipping him.”
“I’ll do a complete workup and get you the results immediately,” Macha said.
“Don’t bother.” Evie turned to the open balcony, her fists still doing their dance. “I’m done with that man. But you need to know you have a security leak here and you need to take care of it.” Her voice was flustered and when she turned back some of the color had returned to her face. Cas could only assume she was using her anger to override her fear or anything else she might be feeling.
“You don’t want us to keep you updated?” Macha asked.
“The man I knew is dead, if he was even really there to begin with,” Evie said. “Coming here was a mistake, it’s what I get for trying to repair a relationship that is long past the point of no return.” She furrowed her brow. “Figure out what’s going on with him and fix it, but I don’t want to hear—”
“But, ma’am, you’re his next of kin,” Macha said. “The law requires—”
“I don’t care what the law requires!” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. But as of this moment I absolve all responsibility for that man. I am done.” She turned and left through the sliding door, almost running into it as if she couldn’t get out fast enough.
Macha turned to Cas. “What should I do?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just a citizen. If I were you, I’d follow her orders.”
Macha pursed her lips. “Are you on her ship? A passenger?”
“Yeah, just a passenger,” Cas said.
“Well. You’re obviously important to her no matter who you are. She’s never brought anyone with her before. Please make sure she takes care of herself. I know how hard these past few years have been. Had this been my father…”
“Yeah.” Cas watched the closed door as if she might return. “Shitty fathers are something the two of us have in common.”
She was nearly to the lobby when he caught back up with her. “Are you okay?” Cas asked.
“Fine,” she replied in a curt tone which suggested anything but. She shuddered again and shook out her hands, taking deep breaths as they walked. “I’m just startled.”
It didn’t look like that to him. In fact, it looked very similar to the sensations he’d felt before entering the shuttle. She was on the verge of a panic attack and she knew it, but somehow she was managing to keep it at bay. Cas couldn’t even imagine what it must feel like to endure an assault from one’s own father. She would need help when they got back to Tempest and if he knew her as well as he thought he did, she’d refuse every opportunity, not wanting anyone to think she needed help or was compromised in any way.
