The End Has Come

A million things could happen, but these people were so locked into their drama she didn’t expect much. She wasn’t worried that the situation was going to change overnight. If Aren was going to grab her boy and run she would have done it already. That wasn’t what was happening here. This was a household imploding.

Time to check with the local committee.

“Did they talk while I was gone?” Enid asked.

“Not a word,” Bert said. “I hate to say it but that was almost fun. What are they so scared of?”

“Us. The stories of what we’ll do. Aren was sure we’d drag her in the street and cut out her baby.”

Bert wrinkled his face and said softly, “That’s awful.”

“I hadn’t heard that one before, I admit. Usually it’s all locked cells and stealing the baby away as soon as it’s born. I wonder if Frain told the story to her, said it was why they had to keep it secret.”

“Frain knew?”

“I’m sure they all did. They’re trying to save the household by convincing me it was an accident. Or that it was just Aren’s fault and no one else’s. When really, a household like that, if they’re that unhappy they should all put in for transfers, no matter how many ration credits that’d cost. Frain’s scared them out of it, I’m betting.”

“So what will happen?”

“Technology fails sometimes. If it had been an accident, I’m authorized to award a banner retroactively if the household can handle it. But that’s not what happened here. If the household colluded to bring on a bannerless baby, we’d have to break up the house. But if it was just Aren all on her own — punishment would fall on her.”

“But this isn’t any of those, is it?”

“You’ve got a good eye for this, Bert.”

“Not sure that’s a compliment. I like to expect the best from people, not the worst.”

Enid chuckled.

“At least you’ll be able to put this all behind you soon,” he said. “Retire to some pleasant household somewhere. Not here.”

A middle aged man, balding and flush, rushed toward them on the path as they returned to the town. His gray tunic identified him as a committee member, and he wore the same stark panic on his face that everyone did when they saw an investigator.

“You must be Trevor?” Enid asked him, when he was still a few paces away, too far to shake hands.

“We didn’t know you were coming, you should have sent word. Why didn’t you send word?”

“We didn’t have time. We got an anonymous report and had to act quickly. It happens sometimes, I’m sure you understand.”

“Report, on what? If it’s serious, I’m sure I would have been told —”

“A bannerless pregnancy at the Apricot Hill household.”

He took a moment to process, staring, uncertain. The look turned hard. This didn’t just reflect on Aren or the household — it reflected on the entire settlement. On the committee that ran the settlement. They could all be dragged into this.

“Aren,” the man breathed.

Enid wasn’t surprised the man knew. She was starting to wonder how her office hadn’t heard about the situation much sooner.

“What can you tell me about the household? How do they get along, how are they doing?”

“Is this an official interview?”

“Why not? Saves time.”

“They get their work done. But they’re a household, not a family. If you understand the difference.”

“I do.” A collection of people gathered for production, not one that bonded over love. It wasn’t always a bad thing — a collection of people working toward shared purpose could be powerful. But love could make it a home.

“How close were they to earning a banner?” Were. Telling word, there.

“I can’t say they were close. They have three healthy young women, but people came in and out of that house so often we couldn’t call it ‘stable.’ They fell short on quotas. I know that’s usually better than going over, but not with food processing — falling short there means food potentially wasted, if it goes bad before it gets stored. Frain — Frain is not the easiest man to get along with.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You’ve already been out there — I wish you would have talked to me; you should have come to see us before starting your investigation.” Trevor was wringing his hands.

“So you could tell me how things really are?” Enid raised a brow and smiled. He glanced briefly at Bert and frowned. “Aren had a romantic partner in the settlement, I’m told. Do you know who this might be?”

“She wouldn’t tell you — she trying to protect him?”

“He’s not in any trouble.”

“Jess. It’s Jess. He works in the machine shop, with the Ironcroft household.” He pointed the way.

“Thank you. We’ve had a long day of travel, can the committee house put us up for a night or two? We’ve got the credits to trade for it, we won’t be a burden.”

“Yes, of course, we have guest rooms in back, this way.”

Trevor led them on to a comfortable stone house, committee offices and official guest rooms all together. People had gathered, drifting out of houses and stopping along the road to look, to bend heads and gossip. Everyone had that stare of trepidation.

“You don’t make a lot of friends, working in investigations,” Bert murmured to her.

“Not really, no.”

* * *