“Oh, Tess isn’t home yet,” Major Card says, leaning away from her as she tries to take the tablet again.
“What’s she doing?” she asks.
“Playing with her friends,” he says.
“At this time of night? Where?” she asks.
“Downtown,” he says.
“She’s---what---nine years old?”
“Not till fall, she’s eight now,” he says, completely proud.
“She’s too little to---never mind, forget it, I’m only supposed to micromanage half your life I’m done,” Major Tom says, going to the door.
“What? She’ll call if she needs me,” Major Card says.
“True, the child is related to him,” Kip points out.
“Oh, yeah, in that case, she is probably fine---no, she’s still eight and it’s dark out, he should be worried---skipping it, skipping it, okay, goodnight, Kip, Cadet Starr don’t let him be cruel to you,” Major Tom says.
“What I don’t get a good night---she’s overly cross with me,” Major Card says, looking upset at that.
“What have you done---lately?” Kip asks.
“Nothing, that’s the thing, other than Thorn making her responsible for me but she’s used to that, no she’s been off for ages,” he says, shaking his head.
“Not on your scale of doing things but----on the regular non-Titus scale of doing things, has anything occurred?” he asks.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Major Card says, looking back up.
“Like, we’ve talked about before the non-Titus litmus test, if somebody else did whatever you’ve done since she’s been cross with you, would it seem out of the ordinary?” he asks.
“Oh yes, I know what you mean no, I’ve not done anything remarkable, other than general being me and I don’t think she knows about half of that, except she was cross over how I treated Starr here when we first met---”
“Sir, that was yesterday---”
“You’ve laid on me since then---”
“Don’t either of you explain that.”
“There’s a connection now we’re fine -----she’s not cross about that---I don’t know, I’ll figure it out,” Major Card says.
“All right, tell me when you do,” Kip says.
“I probably won’t.”
“I’m glad we came out here,” Billy says, coughing. He’s sitting in the appropriated wheelchair, as a waiter brings us expensive ice cream in pretty glass dishes. We’re ten stories up, looking at the sparkling city.
“Me too,” Aiden says, licking ice cream off his spoon, staring up at the sky. I look up too. A million tiny beautiful stars. Not as many as when my dad took me out to the mountains, but still lots.
“I am as well,” I say, petting Cinder, my pet lizard. My dad had caught him for me when we were in the mountains. he chirps and purrs, sticking his little nose in the ice cream dish.
“You guys are good friends,” Billy says, poking at the dish, “I wish I weren’t going to stay at the hospital.”
“They’ll take better care of you there,” Aiden says.
“We all go to die at hospitals sometime, this is just yours,” I say.
“I never thought about it like that,” Billy says.
“Some people just die quick. Like my dad. I bet you’ll die quick,” Aiden says, looking at me.
“Why?” I ask.
“I don’t know, I just think so,” he says.
“Even if people do die quick, they still take their bodies to hospitals,” I reason. I’m trying to make Billy feel better about going to the hospital.
“Not my dad. They didn’t even get his body back,” Aiden says, “I hope he died quick. I don’t want to, though. I want to think about it beforehand.”
“I get to do that,” Billy says, “I guess that’s good. we get to have fun like this.”
“I want to decide when I die,” I say, “I don’t want to be killed.”
“We’re in a bad profession for that,” Aiden says.
“I wonder if my mum and dad are dead,” Billy says, suddenly. His parents don’t have any contact with him, “Or if they know I’m going to be.”
“I’m sure they don’t know,” I say, “They don’t let them have any news.”
“That’s not very fair, I mean, what will they tell them when I should be sixteen? ‘oh, yes, you had a son, he died?’,” Billy says, “I’ve always wanted to meet them.”
“You have?” I ask, surprised. I don’t think about my mum. Whoever she is. I’ve got my dad, he’s enough.
“Don’t you wonder about your mum?” Billy asks, he knows I don’t know her.
“No,” I say, shaking my head, “But that’s probably ‘cause I’ve got my dad.”
“I know I’d wonder about them,” Aiden says, both of his parents had contact before they died, his dad flew with mine and died when they got captured by the Isylgyns. My dad lived. His mum died just a few years ago, in an Isylgyn raid. “I do wonder about my dad, I was so little when he died. I don’t remember him much. I wonder if he’d be proud of me, or if what we’d talk about. or what sort of music he liked.”
“I wonder that, what they’d think of me, what they’d tell me sometimes,” Billy says.
“My mum wrote me letters, so I wouldn’t have to wonder. I thought that was nice. It doesn’t replace her being here, though,” Aiden says.
“I don’t think about my mum; I suppose I’ll meet her when I’m sixteen,” I say, frowning.
“Can’t your dad contact her?” Aiden asks.
“How?” I ask.
“Something my mum said, she’d not met my dad till they had me, but there was agreement, thing, willing to me meet another parent,” he says, “I don’t remember it much, except her saying she liked him when she met him, trying to tell me about him, all that.”
“Oh, I’ll ask him,” I say. maybe it would be nice to know who she is. They certainly seem to care who their parents are.
“I wish I could contact my parents now. Since I’m not going to make it to sixteen,” Billy says.
“There has to be some way we can do it,” I say.
“How? the files are sealed,” Billy says, “I’ve asked. they say it’s not in the agreement to meet me for any reason till I’m sixteen. Except it isn’t fair since I never will be.”
“There must be some way, like hacking in or resetting things so the computer thinks you’re sixteen---I don’t know how, but I’ll bet my dad would, he studied computers before Space Forces he knows loads about them,” I say.
“Really?” Billy asks.
“Sure, I’ll ask him,” I say, cheerfully. And while I’m at it I’ll ask him about my mum.
D is stirring in his flat. I can see a light on across the way. Not home till now, what’ve you been doing, then? Being naughty no doubt. The binoculars do little good when it’s so dark, he’s got a porch but there isn’t a light on it. Well, now we know he doesn’t go straight home so where’s he go? Case out more girls, or is he looking for a new place to keep them? Well, now I know I need to follow him. I hear a noise and sit up, pushing the binoculars behind me.
“Would this help?” Quentin holds up a black box-like thing---with a head strap. It’s night vision goggles.
“What---”
“I know you’re Vindicta, I know you’re spying on him. Why though?” he asks, wheeling closer in his chair. That’s the noise I heard. He looks so powerless in it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. People don’t know about us, not normal people. He’s ex-Space Forces, how the hell would he?
“Don’t bother,” he says, pointing at my wrist, “I saw the tattoo, then I figured you must have some reason for wanting in the flat, makes sense now, you wanted a view of somebody else’s.”
“How do you know about us?” I ask.
“My mother was a prostitute. Vindicta saved her once from a John, she told me and my brother and sister----we didn’t live in the greatest area, as you can imagine.
She told us there were people, women, watching over us in the night, called the Vindicta. To be honest, I didn’t really believe her, or remember, till I got to thinking about that,” he says, nodding to the mark on my wrist.
“You figure all this out before or after you fucked me?” I ask, cocking my head. I would’ve slept with him anyway, to get in, but I’ll smack him if he knew that was why I was doing it.
“Oh, after, don’t credit me with that much sense,” he says, shrugging, “At that point I thought you were a really charming thief, you see when you get to the point I am in my life, I’ve realized that nothing is going to go okay for me, nor will it ever, despite my best attempts to do what is right what is wrong always happens to me. so a very lovely girl shows up in my flat and is willing to fuck me, I decided to go against all of my instincts and go for it--------So, you want the night vision goggles or not?”
“Sure,” I say, taking them from him. He could so easily call the police now and they could trace over a dozen murders back to me. But he isn’t going to. And he seemed so very miserable just then. How lonely can a person get, deciding to sleep with somebody probably intent on robbing or killing you?
“What’s he do?” he asks, easing out of the chair to sit on the floor next to me.
“Kills and rapes little girls,” I say, looking through the goggles. They are really cool, the entire world is this bright green. Now I can see him, standing out on his porch, smoking a cigarette. Just standing there.
“Shit,” he says, taking something off his wheelchair.
“Yeah, he’s done at least ten, that we know of,” I say, “We’re making sure there isn’t another.”
“How were you not gonna get caught? I mean if I were a normal person I’d have reported you wandering around,” he says.
“Oh, I’m not doing the job, I’m just scouting this one,” I say.
“What if one of you gets caught?” he asks, I glance over, he’s got a pair of night-vision goggles as well.
“No real names, no real locations, for the most part, even if one is caught, we’d never betray the other, and cops don’t care too much when bad guys end up dead,” I say, going back to looking, “It’s the middle of the night, why just stand out there smoking?”
“People smoke after sex,” he points out.
“Fuck, yeah, and his shift ended four hours ago, what’ve you been doing?” she asks.
“We need to follow him tomorrow,” he says, “See where he goes.”
“We?” I ask, putting down the goggles.
“I want to help,” he says, indignantly.
“You don’t get to help, I leave, in the morning, you never see me again, that’s what happens,” I say. but as I say it I realize how horrible it sounds and how much I don’t mean it.
I press my face into his bareback, my eyes closed. I didn’t realize till now how exhausted I am. I inhale the smell of him and let myself slowly start to sleep.
“How’s training with Major Card?” Terrance asks, moving a little and put his arm around my neck.
“Wearing,” I say, moving my face to be on his chest, pressed into it, so the outside world can’t find us.
“Would it kill you to use more than ten words together?” he asks, chuckling. He knows I don’t talk much. I never have.
“He’s different, I don’t know. he’s very clever,” he says.
“So are you. I’ll bet you’re cleverer than he is,” he says.
“I’m not, I don’t think anybody is,” I say.
“What’d you do all afternoon, once you got him back on base?” he asks, “Major Tom showed me the flight simulators, I feel better than I did before.”
“That’s good,” I say, “I’m glad.”
“What’d you do?” he asks, rubbing my shaved head, “Come on, wakes up a bit. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too but right now I want to die in your arms---okay, not much, he had me read a couple of books---” I say, raising my head wearily to look at him. We’re curled up in the safety of our conveniently shared barracks. Only one bed to make for inspection that my friend is what is known as a win-win situation. We are lying on top of his made bed, underneath a couple of thick blankets his mum sent him to keep warm.
“You do realize you’re like the only person who reads ‘a couple of books’, in one afternoon,” he laughs.
“Yeah, I do,” I say, resting my chin on my hand.
“Go on, I like your voice, you don’t use it enough,” he says, pushing my head, “Tell me what the books were about.”
“Isylgyns,” I say, “They had pictures of them. have you ever seen them?”
“No, just the blurry things they show in the news,” he says.
“No, these were like, scientific,” I say.
“What did they look like?” he asks.
“I don’t know, not what I expected, like, they didn’t look evil, or scary, just like things. Other things in this universe,” I say, “Now have I done enough talking and can I go to sleep?”
“Not just yet I’ve another joke for you,” he says.
“What is it?”
“You remind me of the man.”
“What man?” I ask.
“The man with the power,” he says,
“Power?” his jokes are rarely good or funny.
“The power of who do.”
“Who does?” I ask, realize where he’s going a second too late.
“You do---”
“I’m not playing this—”
“Remind me of the man---”
“Stop it. that’s annoying,” I laugh.
“I know, right? It’s hilarious,” he says, laughing.
“No, it really isn’t, I shall forget about it presently and sleep if you don’t mind,” I say, flopping my head back down into his chest.
“Oh, all right, go on and sleep.”
“What’re you going to do?” I ask.
“Watch you, I miss you,” he says.
“I miss you too,” I say, moving up to kiss him.
Chapter 3
“W
ell, how’d it go last night?” I ask, into my earpiece, as I walk towards the hospital. It’s early in the morning, and the shops are just waking up, my favorite time of day, the whole city still hungover and half asleep.
“Interesting, D smokes which is something new. It must be something he only does at home, goes to bed at two am, likes cooking given how much time he spent in his kitchen, drinks wine looked like red but that’s just a guess, and he didn’t get home till four hours after his shift ended, and he wasn’t wearing in his scrubs when he got home so he goes somewhere and changes,” Jo says.
“Huh, good to know, I was actually asking how getting into the flat went,” I say. Although I’m glad of the information, I was more concerned for her well being.
“Oh, that, that went terribly,” she says.
“Why who owned the flat?” I ask, worriedly.
“This ex-Space forces dude, I spent six hours of my life trying to seduce him then as soon as I give up the asshole seduces me,” she says, angrily.
“Huh, what’d he say when you left?” I ask.
“See you tonight.”
“He thinks---”
“Oh, he knows, I’m had, he knows about Vindicta,” she says.
“How---”
“Not only did he see me peering out the window, but he lent me night vision goggles,” she says.
“What kind of person is this?”
“A weird one, he wants to help, says I can come back for spying purposes or otherwise if I like and he’d like me to though he understands if he never sees me again,” she says.
“I didn’t think there was that sort of good men,” I say, dryly.
“He may not be, but I plan on finding out, I am going back tonight, we could use the reconnaissance, and you could use the backup,” she says.
“What if he’s some sort of creep who’s after you?” I ask.
“He
’s not, I can tell he’s not,” she says, “It’s just---I don’t know, he’s not though. I’ve seen enough creeps to know he isn’t one.”
“All right, I trust your judgment—speaking of creeps, I think I see mine coming in, wish me luck,” I say.
“Break a leg, sis,” she says, then hangs up. I meant to tell her how Lizzie was, but oh well, she’ll find out for herself when she gets home. Not that there’s anything to find out, the little girl was fine. Didn’t want to talk much or do much, but as fine as she always is. I sigh, we need to get her out of the city and with somebody who understands mutants, but she refuses until we get this guy. Oh well.
“Shannon, good morning.” Shit shit shit shit why do ostensibly decent guys only come on to me when I’m actively trying to pick up creeps to murder them?
“Good morning, Dr. Darc,” I say. I’m new to the hospital, and of course, the handsome lead surgeon has to be smiling at me shyly.
“Please, call me Jacob,” he says, smiling his toothpaste-commercial smile.
“Jacob yes, hi,” I say smiling my please just think I’m a lesbian/married/not interested and let me go pick up the creep.
“Hi, I was wondering if you weren’t doing anything----which I’m sure you are---not that I think you go out every night like that I don’t think your like that not that it would be wrong if you were like that’d be fine but---if you weren’t doing anything---you know, anything normal like laundry or shopping or taking care of your kids if you have kids---or if you don’t which is perfectly fine, either is perfectly fine-----so if you weren’t doing anything at all which it totally respect and understand if you are----would you like to go out for a drink----or something, if you don’t drink then food but go out for a drink, is what you say so---would you like to with me? Only don’t say you’re doing something if you’re not doing something but just don’t want to—I don’t mind if you don’t want to that’s fine but I’d rather know so don’t say you’re doing something if you’re not or you just don’t want to---not that you can’t say you’re doing something if you are that’s fine I’m not asking you to lie to me---but I’d sooner know if you really didn’t want to so I’m not wondering and asking and going through this whole thing again---so if you aren’t doing anything or if you are and you’d rather not then just let me know but if you’re not doing anything or what you’re doing is more boring than being with me which I really can’t imagine but I suppose there must be something then---would you like to have a drink with me or---food and a drink, or just food---or something? Tonight? With me?” he asks. I actually wait for him to stop, trying not to smile.
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