Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

“I don’t understand—”

“I don’t mean do something stupid. I mean you should look at options you wouldn’t consider otherwise. Things you wouldn’t dare do in another situation.”

A chime sounded in the space station. Ranev looked up. “I have to go. There are shuttles docking. We haven’t even got enough people to move the wounded… call me later, if you can. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

The screen blanked. He was gone, off to save lives high above the world, where I would be if I didn’t have lives to save down here. I sat there in the park that was no longer really a park, listening to the construction and thinking about anger.

I was angry. I was incensed. Henni had her reasons and they were valid, and just, and overwhelming: she had a billion people to save. And my poor six were specks of dust she would allow to be lost in that storm of people fleeing from a murderous sun.

The group was going to suffer, and no one cared enough to do anything it about except me. No one could save them. No one could protect them. No one could give them the therapy they needed. No one else could keep them out of the Psychiatric Centre and a lifetime of gentle care that might as well have been a torture chamber. Some of them might be able to stand alone, some might even be able to find a life outside; but Olivia would not. Pew would not. Kwame was still not ready. Liss might be sent to prison. And no one had shown them the slightest shred of—

I realised I was wrong. Someone had shown a shred of kindness to them, and an interest in their fate. It might only be a professional interest. But still…

Ranev was right; it took anger to see past the problem, anger to see a solution, anger to drive me on and do something I could never have contemplated before.

I pulled up my contacts list on my pad, and put a call through to Eremis Ai at the Interversal Criminal Tribunal.

Liss found herself in a secure transport, whisked across Hub Metro to a place she had never seen in real life, but which she knew well from her frantic and pointless appeals for an investigation into the genocide on her world: the headquarters of the Interversal Criminal Tribunal. The building had only just been assigned to the ICT, and like most structures in Hub Metro, it soared to an almost capricious height. But there was something more serious about this place. Whatever architect from a distant universe had been given the opportunity to show off their skills in front of the multiverse had chosen to create something inspired by devotional architecture, and knew well the effect on the human mind of a lofty, endless space stretching to an unimaginably high ceiling. It looked to be made of stone, but no mere stone could bear the weight of such high, curving pillars, or support the obsidian sheets that formed the walls. And this was just the lobby, stretching up into something surpassing the human scale. Beyond it, all the floors that held the offices, workrooms and assorted facilities the ICT needed were arrayed on the back wall of the broad cathedral that sustained the noise of steps and voices into an endless fading sonic glow.

I met Liss at the front desk as she was led in by two guards. She wore a mohib suit under the prison uniform, and was surprised to see me. I was still surprised to be there. “I need you to meet someone,” I said, and led her inside. The guards stayed with us. No one would trust her now, and the guards were a non-negotiable item when we asked for her presence.

Inside the room — a remote meeting room like so many others across Hub — Eremis Ai stood, but did not offer to shake her hand, mindful of the protocols we’d had to sign up to in order to get her there. “Thanks for coming,” he said.

“Okay…” replied Liss, amused. The choice hadn’t really been hers. I joined Eremis at the meeting table, and asked Liss to sit down opposite us.

“I’m sorry about the mohib suit,” I said.

“It’s itchy,” she muttered.

“There’s nothing I can do about it, Liss.”

“Yeah. I got that. You can’t do anything. Except drag me halfway across town. What’s this about? You investigating me now?”

Eremis gave me a look: my questions came first.

“Why did you attack him, Liss?

“It’s like you said. I’m supposed to be investigating. That’s what I did.”

“You planned it?”

“Well, no, not all of it. But he pissed me off.”

“How did he do that?”

She leaned back in the chair and folded her arms. “He just did.”

“You know, if you’d been honest with me, I could have helped you find a way to do this that didn’t end up with you in detention.”

“It’s my job. Not yours.”

“I could have helped. Or the ICT could have helped.”

She gave Eremis a look of contempt. “I’m not the priority, am I? You’re all gung-ho on finding out what killed Iokan’s world, not mine.”

“That’s not the case,” he said.

“Sure it is! How long did you say it would take before you got round to me? Months? Years?”

“Liss,” I said. “That’s not the case.”

“Oh, so they were lying to me?”

“No. Things have changed.”

That got her attention. “Changed? How?”

Eremis said: “We can start investigating your case right away.”

Her eyes went wide. “What…?”

“You didn’t give us a choice,” he said. “We have to move immediately or else the Quillians will claim we don’t take the matter seriously.”

She grinned with delight. “Hah!”

“We wanted more time to establish ourselves before we started an open-ended investigation like this. So I can’t make any promises.”

“Who cares?” She laughed and tried to punch the air but the mohib suit cut in and restrained her. “Ow. Damn thing.”

I sighed. “You won’t be permitted to take any part in the investigation, except as a witness.”

She shrugged. “Good. The professionals can do it.”

“And you’ll have to accept the custody of the ICT.”

“So you can keep an eye on me?”

“You’ll have to stay in therapy longer than I was hoping. We need to work on your aggressive tendencies. That was part of the deal to avoid prosecution.”

She laughed louder than before. “ My aggressive tendencies?” The irony of it made her weep with laughter.

“Are you going to co-operate with us?”

“Of course I’m going to co-operate.”

She was still smiling, thinking she’d won, not knowing how long the path ahead would be, or how much more difficult she’d made it for herself.

“There’s another thing,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“I’m leaving the Refugee Service.”

“What? So who’s my therapist going to be?”

“Me. If you’ll have me.”

“Okay, now you’re just deliberately trying to confuse me.”

“I’m leaving the Refugee Service, and joining the ICT.”

She was still sarcastic. “Oh? Really?”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” I said. “They blamed me for what you did. I would have been transferred, or put on permanent leave.”

A first flicker of regret crossed her face.

“Oh. Shit…”

“They’d have got rid of me, and the group would have been taken by the first therapist they could find.”

“But they can’t do that!”

“You gave them a reason. Please think about that, Liss.”

She slumped in her chair, full of guilt. As selfish as she’d been, she was far from malicious. She was simply a terrible judge of tactics and strategy, as she’d always claimed.

“I’m going to be a consulting therapist for the ICT. But the group can come too, if it wants. That’s why we’ve brought you here. We need your permission, and theirs, if we’re going to give them a home. Liss, the Refugee Service doesn’t have room any more. Millions of people are dying. We’ve just started the biggest evacuation anyone’s ever seen. After the Refugee Service, the ICT are the ones most interested in your wellbeing, and they’re willing to give the resources to look after you. All of you. If you agree.”