The world had changed the day Caroline Ballard fell sick. That black day had heralded a groundswell of chaos, waxing and waning but never disappearing; the firepit of a month in a quarantined hospital, with nothing to do but count down the days until your number came up and it was your turn to die, had been swiftly followed by the madness of a hospital on the brink of riots. Tema’d been out for the count when the events had happened, so she’d learnt the story from Bab Flower, but it turned out that when you had two groups of people who wanted to kill each other―and brought them both into the hospital together to treat their wounds―they still wanted to kill each other. Bedpans and carbolic were poor mitigators.

  But at last, the worst of it was passed. Most of the people brought in hurt from the riots at the Church had been discharged; those that remained were in no fit state to brawl. They were the ones for whom the injuries had been life changing. There was Leowene Dombric, the sweet wife of a Reeve who’d had to adjust to a lost leg, and Melemir, an acolyte from the Church who had been beaten to within an inch of his life and was in intensive care under Doctor Warburton. Melemir would likely be transferred to a hospice somewhere on Belaboras as soon as the Theiran link was up and running. Leowene, with luck, might yet be able to have a normal life on Essegena.

  Tema needed not concern herself unduly with either of them. She was the Chief Medical Officer―officially now, ratified by the Governor himself―and a lot more of her duties were suddenly clerical. In a way she missed her time on the wards. Still, the privacy of her office came with its benefits. Whenever they shared a shift, Viola would stop by for a kiss and a quick chat.

  Today there was no Viola and no office. Tema was back on the wards, for the first time in a while. “There’s a patient asking for you in Ward Twelve,” Delphine Janley had said, arriving in Tema’s office just as she was sitting down to start her shift.

  What Delphine had not said was that the patient was a long-missing soldier brought down from Plateau Watch, a woman with whom Tema had briefly become acquainted during her time on secondment to the Advanced Party. It would have been helpful for Delphine to have mentioned that. Then, perhaps, Tema might have responded to the sight of Eilidh Cailie with quiet dignity, rather than squealing and blubbering in delight.

  “I thought you’d died,” she said, when she’d composed herself a bit. Eilidh still had the pink hair that had made her stand out, though it was badly faded now. She was pale as death and covered in little nicks.

  Still Eilidh smiled. “I’m tough to kill.”

  Theirs had been a brief friendship, born on the ride from the Eia to planetfall. Tema had been the odd one out, as Tema always was; the others had all made acquaintance on the long voyage from Belaboras. They were soldiers pulled from the same company, so they’d know each other’s faces from the mess hall and the bunks, if nothing else. Tema’s companions had been her co-workers from the hospital, Bab and Cherry and the others. She’d been nervous boarding the little lander. That was, until the woman with a cheery face and bubblegum hair sat beside her, smiling, and told some stupid jokes. Eilidh introduced Tema to the others, made sure Tema was never sounded out of the conversation. And from then on, Tema had been a part of the team.

  It was four days between that first moment on the lander and the time Eilidh Cailie disappeared. Tema had figured that would be it, forever.

  “Where were you?”

  Eilidh shook her head. “I’ve been asked before. I don’t know. I can’t remember much, and what I can remember gets fainter day by day. A tunnel, of sorts. I have a memory of the roots of trees, all twisted around one another, and poking out from between them the lights of stars. And the rolls of the gloaming, back and forth like a tide.” She shuddered. “It’s like trying to grasp onto the wind itself. The more I try to remember it all, the more I forget.”

  “So don’t try. Forget it, if that’s what’s meant to be.”

  “They say I’m fine,” said Eilidh, her tone suddenly shifting. “Every doctor comes here and looks at my charts, and they tell me I’m recovering just fine. It doesn’t feel like it.”

  Tema frowned. “In what way?” Eilidh’s progress was undeniably positive. Aside from anything else, she’d gone from bleeding and unconscious to awake and talking cheerfully. Sometimes, though, a patient knew something was wrong even when the indicators disagreed. Not always, but sometimes.

  “Pain, mostly,” said Eilidh. “Not anywhere it hurt before, not along the wounds. In my leg.” She pointed at her left tibia.

  “It’s possible you have some bruising there. I can run some tests if you like.”

  Eilidh nodded. “If you would.”

  “What sort of pain is it? A sharp pain?”

  “No, more an ache,” said Eilidh. “And it isn’t there all the time, not really. It’s like... it’s like the sand on a beach. Even when the tide’s out, the sand is still wet where it’s been. You can still tell that the ocean’s there. My leg stops hurting sometimes, but I can always feel the pain. As though it’s only in hiding. I know that’s not how pain works.”

  “With all the surprises this planet’s had for us, why not sentient pain?”

  Eilidh groaned. “Don’t say that!”

  “Sorry,” said Tema. “I should keep my thoughts to myself when I’m with a patient.”

  “It’s fine.” Eilidh propped herself up, resting on her elbows. “Look, I don’t want to be presumptuous here―and if I’m being a nuisance, just tell me and I’ll shut up―but is there a chance of moving me to an airier ward? One with a window, perhaps? I hate tight spaces. Caldhep is metal walls all over, and I came to Essegena to get away from them.”

  Tema shook her head. “I wish I could help. The hospital’s right at the heart of the Eia, so even if we knocked through a wall all we’d get is a good look at the engineering decks or something.”

  Eilidh giggled. “Well, that might be fun anyway.”

  “It might be,” said Tema, “but I doubt the engineers would be too impressed. And nor would the Chief Doctor.”

  “Does the Chief Doctor ever need to know?”

  “Well, the last time she checked her eyes were working, so she’d probably notice the great hole in the wall,” said Tema, biting her lip to stop herself from breaking down into laughter. “And there’s also the fact that she just heard you suggesting it.”

  “She did?” Eilidh looked around. “Where is she hiding?” She lifted up her pillow, laughing as she made a show of searching beneath it.

  Tema laughed too. “She’s right here,” she said, pointing a thumb at herself.

  “You? You’re Chief Doctor? Oh, congratulations!” Eilidh beamed. “You have had a promotion, right? You weren’t Chief Doctor before? Sorry, my memory isn’t what it was.”

  “It is a promotion,” Tema told her. “And one I wish hadn’t been necessary.”

  “Well, Chief Doctor,” said Eilidh, “what do you say? Grant a girl her request?”

  “It’s beyond my power,” said Tema.

  Eilidh’s face fell. “And here I thought you were beginning to like me.”

  Tema left Eilidh disappointed.

  “There you are,” came Delphine’s voice, as Tema returned to her office. “I was beginning to think you meant to leave me here. The doors are locked from the inside too, you know? I’ve already scouted for a bucket.”

  Tema looked around her office, suddenly worried. “You didn’t?”

  Phina giggled. “I’m not an animal.”

  She’d enlisted Phina’s help clarifying the records. In the thick of it, when everyone was ill and dying, the notes had been sparse; now that the worst of it had passed, Tema wanted to take stock. Which meant finding―and writing, where necessary―death certificates for all who had died. She wasn’t up to the task alone.

  The work had had an effect on Phina too. She maintained her outwardly happy-go-lucky front, but her eyes were dark, rimmed red. She’s shed a few tears in her work.

  Tema smiled. “I can finish up here,” she said. “Why don’t you go down to the wards for a bit? I’m sure Cherry would appreciate the company.”

  “Cherry thinks I talk too much,” said Phina.

  “Better to talk too much than to dwell too long on what we lost. Cherry will appreciate it.”

  Phina nodded. “I’ve been through the clock-in records for the last few weeks,” she said, making her way to the door. “Most of it matches with what we know. Bede Aster and Janna Davis haven’t reported in to work since the place locked down, and neither was sick.”

  “Sometimes the data doesn’t get copied over properly,” said Tema. “I’ll look into it. Thank-you, Phina. For your help.”

  “If you’re sure you won’t be needing me―”

  “Quite sure.” Tema picked up the nearest piece of paper from Phina’s pile. “It looks like you’ve done most of the work already anyway. Now go!”

  Delphine did, and as soon as she was gone Tema shut the door. Privacy was absolute now. She was going to need it, while she was on death certificates for her friends. Every name she came by―represented by an entry on the master list and a more formally calligraphied certificate for placement in their file―was another dagger attacking her. They were her failures. The ones she hadn’t been quick enough to save, and the ones she’d doomed by plunging the hospital into lockdown. It was a strange dissonance, really: she knew that her decision had saved lives, many times more than had been lost. But those were intangible, hypothetical numbers. It was impossible to put faces to those who had been spared because they never got sick in the first place; they were never quantifiable individuals. The dead were. Their reality was that they’d fallen ill, and lost their lives from it, and every one of them was an identity that came with memories of happier times; of parents and siblings and spouses who would mourn the loss of their loved one for years yet. These things weighed heavy on the scales of Tema’s grief. The lives saved almost didn’t feel like enough.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The real hundredweight unbalancing those scales was Caroline, though. Hers was the only death certificate Phina hadn’t got around to. The ancillary details were all filled in, the blather and bureaucracy that future archivists would use to tie it in with Caroline’s other achievements, but the name itself was blank. Perhaps Phina had found it too hard.

  Tema took up the pen and sat there for a while, a wrist-flick away from committing Caro’s death to paper. She never found the nerve to make that pen-stroke. If I don’t write her name down, she isn’t truly dead, Tema told herself, a childish lie. And maybe I can find a way to bring her back.

  Comforting as it was, it was a falsehood. Caro was dead, no matter how much Tema might wish she weren’t. No matter how long she might stare into the body suspended in the Governor’s tevion. Death was the unbeatable end.

  She did the deed and set the certificate on the pile with the others. And then she hurried for the company of others.

  It was amazing how suddenly you could see someone in a new light. Phina’s help going through the records had proven her to be a thoughtful and insightful girl, not at all the ditz Tema had taken her for. Emmeline Maynard, frail and humbled by her near-death turn, no longer seemed snide. She’d even found it in her to compliment Tema once or twice. And Viola―wearing a thin jacket over a clean uniform―was suddenly the most beautiful human being in all of space. Not even the Mother herself, bedecked in the radiance of the Gods’ favour, would make Tema turn away from Viola now. Nothing about the girl had changed, and yet everything had.

  They were sat together at the riverside. The Clearwater’s shore was full of beautiful places to lunch; today was a fine day, just as most days had been since they came to Essegena, and she could think of no better spot for their first proper date. ‘Date’ was, perhaps, too strong a word for it. All they were doing was having lunch. Anybody could have lunch together. It was no different to their meetings in Tema’s office. The broad grin that had imprinted itself on her face at the sight of Viola didn’t indicate anything.

  Viola had arrived before Tema did. That was how their schedules had fallen; they’d etched an hour or so together between the end of Tema’s shift and the start of Viola’s. As soon as Tema got to the riverside, sweaty a bit from the speed of her walk, Viola greeted her with a kiss. Inside, Tema felt like an inferno finally unfurled. That indicated something.

  She couldn’t have said what they talked about for most of their date, not even under torture. It was just so good to exist with her heart full, in pleasant company, tossing sweet nothings into their mutual pool, that she didn’t care to remember the specific words. They weren’t important anyway. Being with Viola was the important bit. The sun had been kind to them and come out in its fullness, a change from the muggy rain and the horrible cold that were becoming ever more commonplace. Sunny days were the best days to have a date. Every time Tema and Viola kissed, it felt as if the sun had made its home inside her.

  Time found them in the Plaza, mostly in a shared silence. It was enough to be beside one another. There was no need for words to intrude. Viola, caught by a fit of the giggles, suddenly darted off to the edge of the Plaza, to the racks of coloured fabric on display outside a clothier’s. When Tema caught up to her a few seconds later Viola was holding up a strand of perfect aquamarine. “This is just your colour,” she said. “Brings out your eyes.”

  The colour was beautiful, but Tema was having a hard time seeing where she’d get her money’s worth out of it. The fabrics still had to be made into clothes. It didn’t come cheap to have a dress made to measure, and with how infrequently she’d been able to wear anything other than her uniform, it could be a few years before she wore such a dress often enough to justify the price. Still, she gushed over it. There was a goldenrod too, a perfect match for Viola’s brown eyes.

  When she showed it to Viola, Vi tittered. “It would look darling.” She sighed loudly. “Why is everything so beautiful so expensive?”

  “You get what you pay for, I suppose.”

  “Who pays for our efforts?” asked Viola. “I know it sounds selfish. But all we did, all we went through, and we can’t even afford a nice dress.”

  “We can afford nice dresses,” said Tema. “Just not from this place.”

  “Still.” Viola licked her teeth. “I’m in the mood for adventure,” she said, her eyes glinting.

  “Adventure in what sense?”

  Viola winked. And ran, suddenly.

  Tema gave chase, her uniform not designed for running. Her loose hair jostled with each step, falling in front of her eyes and tickling her neck. Vi came to a stop in the shade of the Plaza’s large tree; a pushcart full of assorted cakes was standing there. A man with a caramel beard and a navy apron to cover his dishabels stood proudly over his wares, a jar heaving with copperheads beside him.

  “Those must be good,” said Viola, conspiratorially. “You don’t even have to look at them. Nobody makes that much money off horrible cakes.”

  “They do look delicious,” Tema admitted. Her eye had been drawn to a fat chocolate bun, bulging almost to bursting with cream, its pastry a perfect golden brown. Naughty, yes, but didn’t she deserve a treat now and then?

  “Flirt with him,” said Viola suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Flirt with the man. Draw his eye away.”

  “Vi, I’m with you. I don’t even like men.”

  “I don’t care if you like him or not. You’re a woman, Temmi. We have a mystique about us―have you never taken advantage of it?”

  “It would be dishonest.”

  “No it wouldn’t, Temmi,” said Viola. “It’s just having fun. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it. Remember: mystique.”

  Before Tema could protest, Viola pushed her towards the baker’s cart. She thought to go right back over to Viola straight away. The baker spotted her, though. He smiled, so broadly his eyes twinkled. “Can I tempt you with something, madam?”

  She batted her eyelashes, feeling like a right twit while she did so. Clearly she wasn’t doing it right. Viola was in silent raptures beside her, and the baker was looking at her with concern. “I’d love something,” she purred, bringing it right back on track. “What deliciousness do you have?”

  Viola gave her an encouraging nod, subtly stepping away. The baker kept his eyes on Tema. “All manner of cakes, madam. Sweet, savoury―you name it, I can provide it.”

  “Don’t make me blush,” Tema tittered.

  “Never fear on that account, madam,” said the baker. “You won’t get no red on your cheeks unless you bite too hard into a jam bun.”

  Tema had entirely run out of things to say. She’d have to get Viola to give her a crash course in flirting etiquette next time Vi wanted her to try a stunt like this. Improvising, she went with the flow. “How hard are we talking?” she said, biting her lower lip.

  The baker scooped something onto a paper plate and offered it to her. “Why don’t you have a go and see? Free sample. On the house.”

  Tema made an ordeal out of eating the sample bun, entirely intentionally. She got jam all over her face and―summoning every ounce of showwomanship she could muster―licked it off in some facsimile of seductiveness. It must have worked. The baker was watching her, rapt. He didn’t notice as Viola reached in and grabbed two hefty buns, both of them overloaded with sugar. Viola ran away, laughing uproariously.

  “That was delicious,” Tema told the baker, swallowing the last of the bun. “I’m sorry about my friend.” She had no idea if Viola had been caught or not, but the whole idea made her feel awfully guilty. She drew a couple of copperheads from her purse and handed them to the baker. She trotted off after Viola, leaving the poor baker looking entirely bemused.

  “That was incredible,” said Viola, when Tema caught up to her. “Terrible, but incredible. I’ll have to teach you.”

  “Please do.”

  Viola kissed Tema. “Just promise me you’ll only use it for chaos. You’re mine. No flirting with other girls.”

  “Do you think that little of me?”

  Viola pushed one of the liberated buns against Tema’s nose, dusting it with powdered sugar. Tema grabbed the bun from her hand and bit into it. Oh, it was wonderful.

  As they were eating, Viola peered past Tema, towards where the baker was still stood with his cart. “Do you think he noticed me?”

  Tema shook his head. “I hope not, with the show I put on for him. Don’t worry, though: I paid for the buns.”

  Viola stared for a second, and Tema was worried that she’d somehow upset her. As she opened her mouth to apologise for ruining Viola’s fun, though, Viola burst into laughter once more. Tema was left thoroughly confused.

  “What’s funny now?”

  “I paid,” said Viola, amid streaming tears. “I could never actually steal. I just wanted the thrill of it. I dropped some coins onto his cart while you were covering yourself with jam.”

  “We both paid?” Tema started to laugh too. “Let’s hope these buns are the greatest thing we’ve ever eaten then, since we paid double price for them. Or I’ll have to flirt again.”

  “Let me flirt next time,” Viola told her. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “You mean you don’t find this seductive?” Tema bit down on her bun, sending a spray of whipped cream all over her face. This was a misjudgement, though; rather than sitting daintily on the tip of her nose, it covered her face entirely, some of it lodging into her eye.

  Her own cream bun in her hand, Viola sat giggling on the grass bank as Tema rubbed the cream from her eye. She didn’t think she’d been doing anything particularly funny. She stopped playing with her food, instead relaying the humorous but entirely factual account of the series of events that had led to Betsy Clanackan getting a face-full of toilet water. But for Viola’s sake, she left out the fact that Betsy had been walking around for the rest of the shift with turd-smear on her forehead, because none of the others could keep straight faces for long enough to point it out to her.

  “You have to stop making me laugh, Temmi,” Viola said, amidst the laughter. “Or I’ll soil my uniform and have to go and change. And then I’ll be late.”

  “So be late,” said Tema.

  Viola shook her head. “I can’t be late. You’re bad, you are, telling me to be late. You’re meant to be my boss.”

  Tema shrugged. “Don’t be late. Don’t go in at all. Stay here, with me.” She leaned over to plant a kiss on Viola’s cheek. Viola swatted her away with a laugh and a playful swing of the arm. “It’ll be much more fun here.” They were ambling towards a spot at the edge of the Clearwater, just behind the plaza; it had become their spot of choice for lunch or idle chatter, so much so that Tema had taken to coming to the riverbank unplanned. More often than not, Viola joined her there.

  “No.” Viola laughed. “I can’t. What if they need me.”

  “They won’t need you,” Tema told her. “Not that I’m saying you’re useless at your job,” she added, hurriedly. “Just that there’s more than enough to do what needs to be done. They’ll survive without you. I won’t. I need you here.”

  That drew a broad smile out of Viola. “You’re sweet,” she said, dabbing a smudge of cream on Tema’s nose. “But I do have to go.” And shoving the remnants of her bun into her mouth, she rose. “There’ll be next time. Tomorrow. I want to see what’s outside the Valley.”

  “And we will,” Tema nodded. “I have some friends at Plateau Watch. Perhaps we could visit them.”

  “That’s so far away,” said Viola, grinning. “I’d love to.”

  “It’s a date then.”

  For a few seconds then they just stayed where they were, gazing into each other’s eyes. Freeze the scene, Tema thought. This is bliss.

  It was Viola who broke the silence. “I love you,” she said, in a small voice. She blinked then, as though she’d surprised herself with the words. “I love you,” she repeated, louder. “I’ve never said that to anybody before. But I do.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Viola’s eyes flickered. “I should have waited, shouldn’t I? For a better time? I just had to blurt it out.”

  “It’s fine,” Tema laughed. “More than fine. Perfect.”

  “Good.” Viola nodded. “I really do. Love you.”

  “Go on, you little softie,” Tema chided, lovingly. “You’ll be late for work.”

  “I could skip it. Stay here with you.”

  “Go. We’ll see each other tonight.” Tema watched Viola until she was out of sight, fixated on the beautiful girl that was somehow hers. And she returned to her thoughts with a heart that was absolutely full.