• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Either we all get killed trying to break in through an airlock, or we all get killed trying to hit that GTO

station.’

‘You lead,’ said Vincenzi.

Roz switched her comlink back to broadcast. ‘Listen up!’ she said. ‘We’re going to switch objectives. Repeat, we’re going to change objectives. We’re going to take the GTO station at the top of the hill. You can’t miss it. Do not attempt to penetrate the dome. Do not take any additional risks. Do not attempt to draw fire. The aim of the game is to get to the top alive.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Acknowledge.’

‘Yes, ma’am!’ came the voices, one after the other. ‘Yes, ma’am! Yes, ma’am!’

Roz glanced back at Vincenzi. He nodded, bulky helmet tipping as though he was bowing.

‘Follow me,’ said Roz. She jumped over the rim and started running.

And went up the hill into history.

303

Epilogue

Transcript of the Eulogy presented by Adjudicator Christopher Cwej at the Funeral of the Honourable Roslyn Sarah Inyathi Forrester

The first… the first time I ever heard of Roz Forrester was when I was at the Academy. There was a famous story about her. I later found out it was true.

Roz was on patrol one day, with her partner, when they saw a man throw a ditz off a walkway. He’d gotten bored with his alien pet. When they confronted him, he said he’d never owned a ditz, and even if he did, what kind of lunatic would do that to their own pet?

There was no way to prove what the man had done. But Roz demanded to see his ident. He didn’t have an implant, but a plastic ident. When he handed it to Roz, she ate it. Then she arrested him for not carrying any identification. ( Murmurs) When he told the judge what she’d done, the judge wanted to know what kind of lunatic would go around eating idents. ( Murmurs, laughter)

When Roz told me that story, she said she’d done it because she liked animals. But I don’t think that was the underlying reason. I think it was because she loved justice. She couldn’t let him get away with it. It wouldn’t be fair.

304

For Roz, justice wasn’t an abstract concept, some kind of ideal.

It was her job, day in, day out, whatever we did, wherever we went.

I don’t know whether there’s a place where we go when we die. I don’t know if Roz believed there was one. But if… if there is a place like that, and it isn’t a fair place… it damn well will be once she’s done with it. Thank you.

Extract from the Diary of Bernice Summerfield-Kane Dear diary, I’m afraid I’ve neglected you for a few days. It’s been very busy here. Roz Forrester is dead.

Coming to visit Jason and I, was exactly the right thing for Chris and the Doctor. They both desperately needed a rest, in mundane surroundings, and you can’t get much more mundane than our current residence – a rental academic house on Youkali, one of the Institute’s new residences.

It’s pleasant and airy – always lots of room on newly colonized worlds, especially one that’s been declared a no-go zone for development while we archaeologists pick over it. A considerable improvement over the tent Jason and I were previously stationed in. The romance of roughing it fades in the memory after a few good soaks in a real bath.

Ostensibly they came here to let us know about Roz. They really came here because they need to sit around somewhere safe while someone cooks them dinner and listens when they need to talk. They need looking after.

Chris gave me one of the recordings of Roz’s funeral. I don’t know why the Doctor didn’t invite me and Jason. I suppose he had other things on his mind. (The Doctor always has other things on his mind, of course, but this time he was actually distracted by them.)

Jason could have watched the recording, too, but when I slipped the left playback lens into my eye he decided he’d rather let me tell him about it later. He took Chris down to the pub (well, the Tent of Ill Repute, run by a bunch of Lalandian pirates from the Rim).

In the mirror, I had one brown eye and one green one.

305

Chris says most people