“She still won’t have sex with you again?” she asks.
“No, which is confounding not only in the carnal sense but also in relation to my algorithm,” I say, offering her a glass. She shakes her head.
“Well, she’s known you longer than I have,” she says.
“I know, which means I have had more time to work on her,” I point out.
“You must not be taking into account facets of her personality,” she says, helpfully.
“That’s what bothers me; what I don’t know. The unknown,” I say, quietly.
“Maybe she’ll just tell you, since she likes you,” she says.
“What makes you think she likes me?” I ask.
“If she didn’t, she wouldn’t still speak to you,” she points out.
“What are you studying?”
“Good morning, ma’am. Russian, ma’am,” I say, standing up quickly. I did not notice the Major’s entrances to the library. Terrance is behind her, he gives me a little smile but otherwise does not react.
“Major Card’s idea?” she guesses.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. I suspect he just wanted me busy all morning so he could do as he pleased.
“If you’d like you can come with us, we were going to the gym,” she says.
I was about to tell her I had my orders to wait here, but then remembered what Lt Col Ziegfeld had said. but was she to be trusted? Her suggestions had been nothing short of bizarre but...so is Major Card.
“Major Tom, Commander Thorn wants to see you,” a young captain runs up. He’s younger than the Major but a good bit older than me, with clear eyes, a handsome face, and curly ink black hair. So he’s the one Major Card doesn’t like.
“Did he say why?” she asks.
“No, ma’am,” he says, shrugging, then he turns to me, “You’re Cadet Starr, Major Card’s new trainee?” I’ve not got my name tapes yet.
“Yes, sir,” I say, quickly.
“He wants to see you as well,” he says.
“That’s odd, all right, come on, Cadet Jordan, go ahead and wait at the gym for us,” Major Tom says.
“I’ll go with him,” the Captain says.
“Thanks Ziggy,” she says, nodding to me, “Let’s see what he wants.”
I am unduly concerned for the entire walk over, convinced they are going to tell me there’s some mistake and city trash like me doesn’t belong in the officer program and they’re sending me back to basic or something of that kind. I needn’t have worried, however:
“Major Tom do you know where Major Card is?” Commander Thorn asks, standing behind his desk. He’s an older man, a good bit older than Major Tom and Card, with greying hair and a sharp look like he knows more than he ought but not as much as he’d like.
“I believe so, sir,” she says, wearily.
“Good, tell Cadet Starr where that is, then Cadet Starr I need you to deliver him to me, as quickly as possible,” he says.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“Major Card is probably still at his flat, I’m messaging you the address,” Major Tom says, tapping on her wrist pad. I have one too, it’s standard issue and doesn’t look as nice as hers. I barely know how to use it and Major Card is not a patient teacher.
“Very good, Major Tom, I have an assignment for you,” he says, tapping on a tablet, “Read and accept.”
“Sir, please tell it is not making me more responsible for Major Card’s actions than I already am,” she groans, tipping her head back.
“All right, it is not making you responsible for Major Card’s actions, accept there,” he says, handing her the tablet.
“It is! Why do you make me do this?” she asks, annoyed.
“Because he’s wanted to have lots of sex with you since you were both sixteen---don’t look at me like that literally everyone knows if the boy didn’t already he would have soon, hell, Card probably told him,” Thorn says, tiredly. I like him.
“He didn’t---Starr you aren’t to repeat this,” Tom says, her cheeks reddening.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. I really don’t want to repeat this.
“See, look at him, he knew---did you not know that?” Thorn asks me, “Already that is?”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“When did you find out?” Thorn asks.
“Approximately two hours after meeting Major Card, sir,” I say.
“See---he probably did tell him—”
“Don’t tell me if he did,” Tom says to me, quickly.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say.
“Sir, you can’t actually do this,” Major Tom sighs, she’s still looking at the tablet.
“Actually after about twenty hours of search I’ve found a way I can,” he says, “I just wrote him up for all the inane things he does on a bi weekly basis, then put him on probation with you in command of him for retraining. You don’t have to do anything, but he’ll know that if he does anything serious like---oh I don’t know, burning down the entire base—”
“He wasn’t actually responsible for that---”
“That we know of yet---then he knows that you’ll be cross because your name is on the line and if you’re cross then you’re less likely to make love to him which aside from Kepler domination is all he wants,” Thorne says.
“I don’t think he actually wants that,” Major Tom says, “Kepler Domination, that is.”
“Possible not, he quips about it enough, though, now, just tell him to be good he listens to you---”
“Only sometimes,” she sighs.
“That’s more than he listens to other people,” Thorne says, “Now, Starr, off you go.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, “Sir, how am I to tell Major Card he’s to come?”
“Oh, you’re authorized to use absolutely any means necessary I’m in charge of him so I can order you to cuff him and drag him here if necessary which it may be do you know how to deploy your cuffs?” he asks.
“Yes, sir,” I say. they said cadet training would be hard. I didn’t expect it to involve actually being commanded to arrest the living legend of the Space Program. I thought Major Card was a hero. Everybody here treats him like a fixture, if an annoying one.
“Sir, Major Card doesn’t want Kepler domination and me,” Major Tom says, “He wants flying and me. that’s it. He lives to fly. That’s why he’s so impossible when he’s grounded, like now.”
“You’re right, the quips about dictatorship and genocide could stop though, they are getting tiresome---off you go, Cadet Starr,” Thorne says, to me.
“I’ve sent you the address, he probably won’t answer the door,” Major Tom says, looking at me almost sympathetically.
“I’m sure I’ll find him, ma’am,” I say. I have a very good relationship with security doors. They generally do whatever I ask. A skill I’ll admit I did not expect to employ in the Space Forces. Terrance will be amused by this one.
“Hey,” I say, walking into the warehouse. The girl is predictably curled up in a fetal position on her makeshift bed. she raises a hand at my entrance and I am immediately stopped.
“It’s me, Shannon---Dr. Lutz----I’m just here to bring lunch, Jo is going to be late or not at all, so I’m hanging out until she gets back,” I say, waiting for the invisible force to subside. She was probably asleep, she gets jumpy when woken up. Admittedly it’s like dealing with a live bomb, but a sweet little underfed one.
“Sorry,” she says, sitting up slowly.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, did I frighten you?” I ask.
“I guess,” she says, looking around. “Is Jo going to kill him?”
“We just need to see where he is,” I say. the answer is yes. Her or me. But we’re thinking I will do this one. She’s had more care of the little girl. So I probably ought to. A little less personal emotion makes for better reaction times.
“I want her to. She thinks about killing him,” she says, staring off. I know she can see some of our thoughts, in a weird way. She doesn’t know everything bu
t more like long-lasting impressions or underlying feelings, like she can sense if we are afraid. Or happy. Or plotting a murder.
“I know he hurt you,” I say, “That’s why we are going to.”
“He hurt other people worse,” she says. She still hasn’t told us when he took her, or where she came from before that. There hasn’t been anything in the press about her family looking for her, and she’s not said anything, so I’m assuming it wasn’t good.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Who is she?” she asks.
“Who?” I ask.
“The girl you always think about. You think she’s about my age. But you don’t think she’ll look like me. but you sort of wish I could be her. who is she?” she asks, cocking her head. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. I understand.”
“No, it’s okay----she’s my daughter,” I say, realizing I must’ve looked taken aback.
“What happened to her?” she asks.
“Nothing---nothing----that I know of----she’s a Project 10. I don’t have visitation rights,” I say.
“Why?” she asks.
“Because I was young, and stupid, and I needed the money, for schooling and my mum was sick. I thought I’d be okay, knowing she was cared for, all that. Turns out I wasn’t----how it works is, they pay you, to have the child and give it up to them, or you get the child for free, or you give the child to them to raise and pay for visitation rights. I didn’t have the money for visitation rights. She gets to contact me when she turns sixteen---if she wants to, I thought I’d be okay till then. I’m not, okay. I figured that out, the minute she was born. That I wouldn’t be okay,” I say, looking down at my hands. I don’t talk about this, my hands are shaking.
“They wouldn’t let you just keep her since you changed your mind?” she asks, frowning.
“No, they would---but I’d have gotten no money. And I had no money as it was I couldn’t, possibly, have provided for an infant, not when I barely had enough to live. I’d have had to drop out of school, even then I’d not have been able to work to pay to support myself and my mum and her. I’d thought about it, a lot. I couldn’t do it,” I say, shaking my head, “I had to give her up. So now I wait, praying, she’ll contact me when she turns sixteen.”
“She’ll probably want to know who you are. I would, if I didn’t know,” she says.
“You would?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“I hope so. More than that, I hope she’s okay. I want her to be happy, having a nice life,” I say, looking back down at my hands.
“Who was her dad?” she asks.
“I don’t know---they don’t tell us. somebody who matched my IQ, that’s it. I don’t know if he has visitation rights or anything, could be military if so he’d have them for free if he wanted. I sort of hope so, I mean, it would be good if she had someone there. But I’m jealous, too, that she might not want me,” she says.
“He probably doesn’t. most men are awful,” she says, flopping back down.
“Don’t say that, I’m sure some are good---just not the ones you and I come across,” I say, tickling her feet. She giggles, “Come on, let’s get you up, have something to eat, eh?”
“Okay---why is Jo taking so long anyway? I thought she was just renting a flat to use to spy on him,” she says.
“She was but the flat with the good view of his wasn’t available so she’s finding another way to get in,” I say.
“What way?”
“Knowing her a stupid one that will barely work.”
“This is my flat.”
“This is my flat.”
“Lovely, it’s mine as well.”
“No it’s not.”
“Clearly it is,” the girl says, walking past me. Girl probably isn’t the appropriate term but whatever. She has blue hair, rings in her ears, and tattoos on her neck. I wouldn’t let her past me at all, except I’m not the most balanced on my replacement legs and I was afraid if it got to shoving then I would fall over.
“No, look---ma’am, I am completely certain this is my flat,” I say, as she walks around my duffel bags and looks through the window.
“And I’m complete certain it’s mine----what did you call me?” she asks, spinning around quickly. She’s wearing a black jacket that buttons down to her knees, black, tight pants, and big silver necklace.
“Ma’am?” I say, staring blankly at her.
“Absolutely nobody’s called me that before in my life I think, it’s divine say it again,” she laughs. She has a pretty laugh. If she weren’t trying to rob me which I’m pretty sure she is, I would think she was pretty.
“This is my flat---you must be mistaken look let’s go down to the front desk and ask,” I say.
“I’ve just been there and they sent me up here, do say it again, I’m thinking I like it,” she says, sitting down on the edge of my duffel bag.
“Yeah no, um---can you please leave? We both know this is my flat,” I sigh. I’m not up for this.
“Well we don’t I know it’s mine you think it’s yours now, what makes you think it’s yours?” she asks.
“Space Forces booked it for me?” I say.
“And Space Forces is absolutely one hundred percent accurate all the time?” she asks.
“No,” I growl. Like them being accurate is how I lost my legs? “No they aren’t---but I doubled checked this is my flat.”
“Why are you so cross now? We’re just two people trying to sort out a misunderstanding,” she says, charmingly. I realize she has no way of knowing I don’t have legs, she didn’t mean that she can’t tell I’ve got my fatigues on, she has no idea. She’s just some stupid scammer.
“Nothing,” I sigh, “Nothing, look, can you just---go?”
“I’ve no place to go. This is my flat,” she says.
“I will give you money. For a hotel, or something----just----please leave I’m not very good---at talking---to---”
“People?” she offers.
“Yes,” I say, almost smiling, “To people.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing I am, you see I’ll do all the talking look my papers are right here and isn’t that this room number?” she asks, taking papers from the pocket of her coat.
“Yes,” I admit, going over to look and nearly tripping over the strap to the duffel bag.
“There, so you see? No problem at all, it’s my flat,” she says.
“It’s mine as well, I had the key,” I say.
“Well, look, it’s a Sunday, the office is closed, let’s just work something out,” she says.
“Yes, you go, you get a hotel, I don’t have to see you ever again,” I say. but as I say it I realize how horrible it sounds and how much I don’t mean it.
“Well that’s silly when this is my flat.”
“It’s not!”
“It is though I’ve got papers. Now let’s start again, like civilized people, what’s your name?”
“What?”
“What is your name?” she asks, smiling.
“Captain Le------” I wince, I’m not anymore I’m used to introducing myself like that. “Quentin now. just Quentin.”
“Nice to meet you Quentin, I’m Jo. You’re not in service anymore?” she asks.
“No, they tend to have you quit after they cut your legs off,” I say, heavily.
“Oh my,” she says, her face darkening, “That’s horrible.”
“Yes, it really was. Now, Jo, what do you propose we do?” I ask, tiredly.
“Well, we can think for a bit, maybe look up if there’s another building with the same name? Or room numbers?” she pulls a tablet out of her pocket.
“Yes, you do that,” I say, “From a hotel.”
“Or we could do it right here together,” she says. Then I realize she hasn’t stopped flirting with me even though I don’t have legs. That’s sort of nice. Other than the fact that I don’t like being flirted with. Or robbed from or whatever it is she thinks she’s doing.
&
nbsp; “Or not,” I say, “Come on, will you just go?”
“You are the man, I’m the lady in distress. I think you should go.”
“You’re perfectly fine!” I cry.
“I could become distressed, though, here, let’s have something to eat be brought up and we can talk about it properly.”
“I am not having lunch with you!”
“It looks like you are.”
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