She nodded. That made sense.
Then an idea occurred to her. She straightened. “Here’s what I’ll do.”
~ 3 ~
“Captain Santiago? Sir?”
Elijah shook off the memories at the same time he pushed himself away from the wall of the elevator. His cheek tingled, as if someone had stroked it with a soft touch. “Yes, Barney?”
“You missed your level, sir.”
Elijah looked at the control panel and swore. “I hate these things for a reason.”
“There’s no one else waiting, this late, sir. I’ll redirect for you.”
Elijah resisted the need to slump back against the elevator wall. He’d just drop into old, painful memories again. He felt the elevator slow, then stop. Then it smoothly dropped.
He spread his legs and folded his arms. Tiredness was gnawing at him, worse than the incipient hangover hovering behind his eyes. “Turn on the lights in my apartment, Barney. And…” He hesitated. “And print a dose of sleep for me.”
He’d pay for the dose tomorrow, but that was tomorrow’s business. He wanted to drop into sleep and stay there for eight hours, untroubled by nightmares. More, if he could manage it.
Booze wasn’t shutting down his mind. Sleep might.
“Um...sir?” Barney asked, his voice emerging from the panel speaker with a weak tone.
“Yes, Barney?”
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. The corridor was barely lit, but Barney turned on the nearest overhead, and turned it down to an orange glow, enough for Elijah to see where he was going.
Elijah swung right and moved along the corridor toward his apartment door. There were only two apartments on this level.
As he walked, Barney said, “You told your AI to not disturb you, so she asked me to remind you about your nine o’clock appointment tomorrow with the Nightshade Consortium.”
Elijah nearly groaned. Nearly.
So much for eight hours of sleep. He thought rapidly—as rapidly as he could given lack of sleep and too much brandy. He couldn’t cancel the appointment. Allison, his AI, had spent weeks trying to find a day, time and place that suited all three of them, and the Consortium had travelled from New Gaia to discuss a potential freight contract for their precious ores. They had campaigned for two years for this meeting. They said they didn’t want anyone but Transtellar United to carry their freight.
“Wake me at eight, then, Barney,” Elijah said, his tone grumpy.
“Yes, sir.”
Then Elijah realized what he’d done. “I mean,” he added, looking up at the door lens so it could scan his face and retinas, “tell Allison to do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door opened. The apartment smelled fresh and clean.
And empty.
“You’re too damned accommodating, Barney. Sometimes you need to talk back, you know.”
“I will bear that in mind, sir. Good night, sir.”
“Good night, Barney.”
Elijah ignored the hollow sounds as he moved through the apartment. He stopped at the printer outlet and picked up the sleep dose and the glass of water thoughtfully sitting beside it, and moved into the bedroom.
He looked at the bed.
