23
For the next few days, I kept walking blindly down a pitch-black tunnel without a vestige of light at the end of it. In all that time, I hadn’t managed to do more than look at my impact suit. When I tried to touch it, I felt physically ill with irrational terror. I didn’t know how I’d explain this to Fian, but I’d have to find the words somehow. I couldn’t just vanish without an explanation. After Joth’s death, I knew how dreadful it could be to be left endlessly wondering why something had happened.
I’d planned to leave the course and Fian before, when he first found out I was Handicapped, but he was gloriously stubborn and wouldn’t let me do it. He’d threatened to go legal and force me to honour my Twoing contract with him. He couldn’t do that this time, because there were only a few days left on our three-month contract.
I did a lot of thinking about what I’d do after I left the course. Earth was known for the triple H. Hospital. History. Handicapped. Issette was studying medicine, but I couldn’t do that because I was useless at science. There were plenty of options in childcare, but how could I take care of kids? I’d been making too big a mess of my own life to think of taking responsibility for someone else.
Each night, I made an excuse to slip off to our room ahead of Fian, went to bed, and pretended to be already asleep when he followed me. I kept my eyes closed as he crept around the room, like an unusually tall, blond mouse, and went to bed himself. This avoided conversations that I was in no state to handle, but left me facing a long night where sleeplessness warred with bad dreams.
By the end of day three, I was standing at a cliff edge and looking down. Tomorrow morning, people would expect me to wear my impact suit, and I could no more do that than I could portal to Alpha sector. Buying myself time by claiming my skin was still sensitive wouldn’t work. Both Playdon and Fian would insist on me having medical checks, and the doctors would say there was nothing wrong. I was totally and utterly nuked.
I sat in the dining room, surrounded by chattering people, and Fian came over carrying a tray of food. I frowned at him, but he still put a plate of cake on the table in front of me.
‘Please, Jarra, at least eat some cake.’
I reached out and mechanically picked up the cake, but my stomach rebelled at the thought of eating it. Fian watched with a disapproving expression as I broke off token crumbs.
‘Jarra,’ he said, ‘you can’t …’
He broke off, and everyone sitting at our table looked up. Playdon was standing next to us.
‘Jarra and Fian,’ he said. ‘I need you for a moment.’
He beckoned us out into the corridor, Fian headed after him, and I trailed in their wake. This was it then. Playdon was going to discuss the work he had planned for the class tomorrow morning, he’d be assuming I’d be back out there tag leading, and I had to say I couldn’t do it. I’d expected to have a few more hours, but … Chaos take it, what was the point in prolonging the agony?
I braced myself to tell them the situation. At least I’d finally thought of somewhere to go. I’d join the staff on one of the safe historical sites, like Pompeii or the Pyramid Zone. You needed either a history or science degree for the important jobs, but I could do something basic like mowing the grass or handing out armbands to visitors.
I opened my mouth to make my carefully planned speech, but Playdon spoke first. ‘These are for you.’
He handed each of us a genuine, paper envelope. I stared at mine in utter confusion, and opened it up. Inside was a piece of card. I read it. Twice. Read it a third time, still grazzed.
‘Why have you given us these certificates, sir?’ asked Fian.
‘You’ve earned them,’ said Playdon. ‘We’re less than halfway through this course, but you’ve both already done more than enough work on the dig site to qualify for the highest practical grade so I’m giving you the certificates early.’ He gave us his best evil smile. ‘You still need to attend my lectures and complete the theoretical side of the course though. Don’t imagine you can escape that.’
I finally managed to speak. ‘You know! How?’
‘I saw the look on your face when I gave you back your impact suit,’ said Playdon. ‘You aren’t the first person to have this sort of problem, Jarra.’
Fian looked from me to Playdon. ‘What’s going on here?’
‘I’m your lecturer, Fian,’ said Playdon. ‘I can’t divulge information about another student to you, even if you do have a Twoing contract with her. I shouldn’t comment on your personal relationship, and it’s quite inappropriate for me to suggest that you should, for chaos sake, make Jarra talk to you.’