Use of Weapons

The woman rose, squatted down again, beside him. 'Impressive display for one so young. Surprised you weren't promoted faster; is it true you didn't show the right attitude to your superiors? That why —»

He threw the clippers down in the basket, wheeled the chair round to face her. 'Yeah, lady,' he sneered. 'I said the wrong things, my family were never very well-connected even when they were alive and now they're not even that, thanks to the Imperial Glaseen Air Force, and these…' He clutched at the chest of the tunic, hauling at the medal ribbons, brandishing them. 'These I'd trade you; all of them for a pair of shoes I could wear. Now,' he leant forward at her, took up the clippers. 'I have work to do. There's a guy down in the institute who stepped on a mine; he hasn't got any legs at all and he lost an arm. Maybe you'd find it even more fun to go and patronise him. Excuse me.'

He whirled the chair around, moved off a few metres, and took a couple of cuttings, tearing at two plants almost at random. He heard the woman on the path behind him, and put his hands on the wheels, pushing himself away.

She stopped him. Her hand held the back of the wheelchair and she was stronger than she looked. His arms strained against the wheels; the rubber buzzed against the stone path, wheels turning but not propelling him anywhere. He relaxed, looked up at the sky. She came round in front of him, squatted down again.

He sighed. 'What exactly do you want, lady?'

'You, Mr Escoerea.' The woman smiled her beautiful smile. She nodded at the stumps. 'By the way; the deal with the medals and the shoes; fair enough.' She shrugged. 'Except you can keep the medals.' She reached into the basket, took out the clippers and stuck them into the earth under the plants, then put her hands, clasped, on the front of the seat. 'Now, Mr Escoerea,' Sma said, shivering. 'How would you like a proper job?'

END