by Welch, David
“You’re so lucky he didn’t have two,” she said lustily.
“Hey,” he said playfully,” I offered it to you politely…”
“And have the man who bought this dinner sitting on the hard steel? Ridiculous.”
She turned over, coming face to face with Lucius. His handsome face was relaxed. She enjoyed seeing that. Stern faces had always struck her as inhuman. She’d seen it too many times on the faces of her tormentors. Associating Lucius with those people seemed wrong, even knowing what she did about his past.
“What are you thinking?” Lucius asked as she gazed.
Did she tell him the truth? Was that how this worked? She’d become so good at playing the fantasy for clients that she wasn’t sure what to do. Did people expect truth in actual relationships?
“I’m thinking that I want more champagne,” she spoke.
She sat up, poured herself a glass that nearly emptied the bottle and stretched back against him, facing the stars.
“Which one do you think is Earth?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “You really want to see it, don’t you?”
“It’s an old dream,” she replied. “When I was a girl, they’d show movies of our people’s ‘great journey’ through the stars to Maratha. But they never said anything about Earth, just that they were being oppressed and had to leave. I always wanted to know more. Even when I was on Igbo, I never heard more than whispers of it. I didn’t even know what it looked like until Rex showed me.”
“Well, when you become a Terran, you should go,” Lucius said.
She finished her glass, a nice buzz spreading through her chest. She placed it down and then spun around again. She rested her chin on Lucius’s sternum, smiling up at him.
“Come with me,” she said.
“I would, but I don’t know—”
“They’ll let you in, I know it,” she said. “After the loyalty you’ve shown Rex? You’ll get in.”
“If I get in—”
“When you get in,” she corrected.
“I will go to Earth with you,” he said, bending down to kiss the top of her head. “And anywhere else you want to go.”
“Why Lord Baliol, I do believe that you’re making promises to me,” she said, trying her best to emulate his accent.
“Lord Baliol is my mother’s father. I am only Lucius,” he said. “And I am making promises.”
She turned her head, settling it in the crook of his shoulder. A strange contentment settled over her, unlike anything she’d felt before. Her eyes fluttered and closed, Lucius’s hand stroking lightly up and down her back.
Rex found them like that the next morning.
* * *
Rex managed, with his free hand, to grab the last piece of chicken from his plate. It was covered in some sort of cucumber sauce and doused in spices. He got it to his mouth without dripping anything on Quintus, who watched anxiously.
Lucius had gone to some effort to arrange his soiree with Chakrika. He’d bought dinner from a local restaurant, getting Rex something, since his cook would not be doing much cooking. He’d even gotten Chakrika to fill a bottle for the squirming little man on his lap.
“OK, OK,” Rex said after swallowing. “Now it’s your turn.”
He shifted the baby and fed the bottle to him. The boy latched on and sucked vigorously, making little contented noises as he went. Rex stroked his hair without thinking.
“You’re a lot quieter than my sister’s kid, but I guess she’s at least five by now. She used to scream like a banshee any time I went over.”
Quintus continued feeding.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Rex said with a laugh. “Computer, show me Nancy Yazdani.”
His ex-fiancé’s face filled the screen. She had olive skin, jet-black hair that fell to her shoulders, and liquid brown eyes. He’d been intoxicated by those eyes on more than one occasion.
“This is Nancy,” he said, shifting Quintus to see. “If you see her, spit up on her shirt.”
He sighed, then spoke, “Computer, show me Second.”
His individuality-impaired crew-member appeared. Tan skin, platinum blond hair, enticing eyes…a person designed to attract. Especially if that thing about pheromone secretion was true. Though her hair always struck him as odd. He’d only ever seen blond hair, or red hair, on people with pale skin. She kind of reminded him of a teenager, during that phase when they colored their hair and got tattoos to ‘rebel.’
Was that what he would get when she returned? A teenager? What mental age would Second be? She clearly had the intelligence of an adult, but how would her will fit into this? Rex didn’t know. Were all the stages and stupidities of young people tied to their physical development? Or did a human have to experience them, even if in an adult form, before moving through them?
Whatever happened, he bet that a lot of visits to the psychologist would be in her future.
“A call is incoming,” the computer announced.
“From the doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Put him on,” Rex spoke.
“Mr. Vahl, are you there?” Manuel Tzimikes asked.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Your crewmember is through surgery. Everything went well.”
“How is she?” Rex asked, anxiety forming a ball in his stomach.
“We have her sedated. We’ll wake her tomorrow, at six in the morning, if you wish to be there. I want to see how she is when conscious before you leave,” the doctor spoke.
“I’ll be there,” Rex replied.
They said good-bye, and the call ended. Rex turned back to Quintus, who stared at Second’s floating image as he fed.
“And that is your crazy Aunt Second,” he said, jostling the little guy playfully. “I can’t guarantee she’ll bring you presents, but I do have a feeling she’ll keep things from ever being boring again.”
Quintus made a contented squeak and kept feeding.
Rex smiled.
“My thoughts exactly.”
* * *
It was ten minutes past six when Rex arrived, victim of his computer trying to send him down a road that no longer existed. It had been converted into a pedestrian mall and covered in the carts of various vendors. His computer had then calculated an alternate route, leading to him being late. Rex felt bad about it, but pushed it aside. The past couldn’t be changed, and whatever the doctor had awakened within Second probably wouldn’t be caring much about his tardiness. Part of him wished that she would care. Somebody angry at you for being late was normal.
He stepped out of the pickup, approaching the low-slung, one-story office. He could see Doctor Tzimikes in frantic discussion with one of his nurses through the glass door. Opening the door, Rex was greeted with a barrage of distressed-sounding Greek.
They stopped dead when they saw him. The nurse hurried off, a worried look on her face.
“You did not mention that she was insane,” the doctor spoke, his voice more concerned than accusing.
“She wasn’t,” Rex said, not sure if his words were true or not. Could you be insane if you had no will of your own?
“She needs to stay for counseling—”
“Don’t have the time, doc,” Rex replied.
“She will be of little use to your ship in the condition she’s in,” the doctor spoke. “And quite possibly will be a danger to herself.”
Rex wanted to sigh. He understood the doctor’s concern. Had they more time, he might even go along with it. But they were being hunted, and safety was still several jumps away.
“I have to be off-planet by noon,” Rex said simply. “She’ll have to wait until after we deliver our cargo.”
Manuel grumbled, crossed his arms, and thought deeply for a moment. With a disgusted huff, he motioned toward a hallway.
“If you can get her to go, then take her,” he replied. “Just be aware that you may need to restrain her.”
The doctor stalked off
toward an office, shaking his head and muttering angrily. Rex moved down the hallway, following it to its end. The nurse stood at the door. Muffled sobs and screams came from the room.
The nurse did not try to speak. God knew if she even spoke English. She simply opened the door a crack. The screams grew louder.
He walked in, closing the door behind him. This was not the operating room, just a normal exam room. Behind the exam table, huddled in the corner, sat the naked form of Second.
She had torn the gown from her body and ripped it apart. It lay in a half-dozen tattered pieces just beyond the table. Most of her skin was covered in red scratch-marks, as if she had tried to take it off. Her head was bald, the back of her neck bandaged, preventing her from tearing out her sutures. She clawed at her left forearm as she huddled, shivering and rocking back and forth.
“Second…”
Her head snapped around with freakish speed, her eyes fixing on him. She stared, unblinking, for several long seconds.
“What is this…” she whispered.
“Uhm…this is…freedom. I know things seem a little scary—”
“No!” she screamed, her right hand seizing her left forearm in a vice-like grip. “No! No! No! What is this?!”
She held up her left forearm, as if it were a foreign object.
“That’s your left arm,” Rex replied.
“It’s mine?” she said, unsure. “Is it? Is it mine? It can’t be mine. There are others…I see others, I remember others…how can this be mine when I remember others?!”
Rex moved closer, crouching down to her left. She stiffened, her head moving back and forth as if scanning for an enemy.
“You remember others, other bodies?” Rex asked.
“They took me out, and they put me in,” she said, her eyes wide and frantic. “This can’t be mine. The others can’t be mine. I have to take it off.”
She started clawing at her skin again, her nails digging into her skin. Rex grabbed her hand, stopping her.
“It doesn’t come off,” he said. “There’s no others anymore. This is yours.”
“What were the others?” she asked.
“They were yours, but they’re not anymore,” Rex spoke, trying to explain. How do you explain something that, until recently, wouldn’t have even made sense to you?
“What if there are more?” Second asked. “They’re mine. I have to be in them.”
“There are no more,” Rex replied. “Just this one. This body, it’s yours. For the rest of your life.”
“My life?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. “What is that?”
“Uh…your existence,” Rex ventured.
“Is this existence the same existence as the others?” she asked, whispering as if afraid somebody could overhear them.
“Yes, sort of,” Rex said, stumbling over his words. “You are the same person you were, even when you were in the other bodies.”
“I am a second,” she replied, a look of abject sadness crossing her face. “They said I had to serve…”
“You don’t have to serve anyone anymore,” Rex spoke firmly.
“Why was I serving?” she asked, perplexed. “Why…I let them take me out and put me in, and it hurt. They cut into my skull, the other skulls. I felt them…”
A cold weight came over Rex.
“You felt that? They didn’t put you under?” he asked.
“Put me under what?” she said.
“Sedation, to kill the pain,” he spoke.
“I…I didn’t respond. It hurt, when they cut…and I didn’t respond,” she said, then looked to the scratches on her arm. “This hurts. I kept trying to take it off, but I felt pain, and I stopped and I don’t know why I stopped. I didn’t use to hurt.”
“Second, listen, you weren’t able to. You were under their control—”
“Who?!” she snapped. “Who made me feel that?”
Her muscles tensed her fingers tracing the back of her skull. Tears formed in her eyes.
“They made me do that…” she said, clearly not certain of what it meant. “They made me stand still and feel that pain?”
“They did, Second,” Rex spoke. “They can’t do that anymore. You’re free of them.”
If she heard his words, she made no sign of it. Her fingers probed down her body in a clinical fashion, pressing in on her skin in various places as if to make sure everything was there. Rex turned his head away when they slipped between her thighs.
“They…he did this…” she muttered, the tears streaming full force.
“Who Second? What did he do?”
“He was big, he was so big. I’m not a Master. I’m not…I can’t fit that…he…”
A sob of pain escaped her throat, and she huddled back into a fetal position. Rex moved behind her, wrapping her form in a tight embrace. Second’s hands instinctively latched onto his forearms.
“It was every night…” she said through tears. “He kept hurting me and I let him…why, I-I…I let him and it hurt so much…”
“You couldn’t say no, Second,” Rex spoke. “You didn’t have a choice.”
“Choice…” she spoke, the word sounding foreign and uncomfortable on her lips. “I’m…I do not know what is happening.”
“You’re becoming human, Second,” Rex said.
“Primitive…” she whispered. “There’s something wrong, something is wrong. I-I have strange directives in my mind. I don’t know what they are.”
“What do you mean?” Rex asked.
“I want to run. I’m not in danger, I’m not being harmed, but I want to run…I don’t know why,” she spoke.
“That’s fear,” Rex explained. “It’s an emotion. Everybody has them.”
“I can’t control them,” she said, her hands squeezing tightly once more. “They didn’t matter, and now I can’t control them…I want to run and—and I want to kill them, and I want to stay next to you…”
“I know it’s overwhelming,” Rex spoke. “Well, I can imagine it is. Most people grow into this—”
“Grow?” she spoke. “I was grown. I was. I was warm and wet, and then I emerged…and it was cold, and I was standing in the cold…”
“You remember when you were—uh, when they birthed you?” Rex spoke, not sure what word would correctly describe Second’s creation.
“I remember everything,” she said, the tears starting to flow again. “I don’t remember why…”
She cried for two minutes straight, unable to speak. Rex could only hug her tighter, rocking slightly to try and calm her.
“There was no why,” Rex spoke. “They took it from you. They can’t do that anymore.”
“What is my ‘why?’” she asked. “I don’t know why I feel this…these…it keeps tearing at my head!”
Her hands shot to her forehead, her fingers digging at it, trying to open it. Rex softly directed her hands down, away.
“I can’t get out,” she spoke. “It doesn’t stop, and I can’t get out!”
“Second, you will learn how to deal with this,” Rex said.
“How? It doesn’t stop, and something keeps telling me none of this makes sense, but that doesn’t stop it and it just keeps going!” she shrieked.
“That’s normal—”
“No, no, I-I have to get out,” she said and resumed scratching at her forearm.
“Second, stop,” he said, grasping her hand once more. He slipped his hand low, lightly grasping the scratched left forearm.
“This is you,” he explained. “This is yours. It is part of you, a permanent part of you. You can’t be removed from it. It’s not clothing, you can’t get out.”
“Mine…” she whispered.
“Yours,” Rex reassured.
Her hands clasped her breasts.
“This is me?” she asked.
“Yes,” Rex said, trying to avoid staring.
She ran her hands up and down her thighs, then to her stomach.
“This is mine,” she spoke. “T
his is me.”
“All of it is you,” Rex spoke.
She turned to look back at him. He loosened his embrace, moving so she could see his face. Her tearful expression broke his heart.
“These emotions…they are mine?” she asked.
“Yes,” he spoke. “Your thoughts, your feelings, they are yours.”
“They hurt,” she spoke, her lip quivering.
“Not all of them are bad,” Rex replied.
“Quintus…” she said. “I remember touching him. It felt…warm?”
“That’s right,” Rex spoke. “That was a good one.”
“You make me feel…different than that,” she explained.
“I should hope so,” Rex said, then realized the expression would be lost on her. “Look, there are many emotions. Some hurt; some feel ‘warm.’ You’ll have time to learn that—”
“Who am I, Rex?” she asked suddenly.
“Uhm…you’re Second,” he answered, knowing instantly that his answer did nothing to help.
“This woman,” she began. “Me. You’re Rex; you’re a Terran. You do; you act. Who am I? What am I?”
“You’re a person now,” Rex spoke. “Those things you feel, they can drive you to do things, to act.”
“I can act?” she asked.
“Yes, you can. You can act without being told. Do you understand?”
She stood up, breaking the last of his embrace. Her movements were tentative, as if she were unsure her body would respond. Like she’s never used it, Rex thought. She took a step and then looked quizzically around the room.
“What is this…I feel…compelled? I should leave this room,” she spoke.
“That’s ‘want,’” Rex spoke. “Do you feel compelled to leave this room?”
“Yes,” she said, taking a few steps toward the door.
She paused before opening it, turning the latch several times with her hand.
“We should get you a robe,” Rex spoke.
She raised an eyebrow.
“I do not feel compelled to wear one,” she said calmly.
“It’s to protect you from the weather,” Rex lied. He felt bad about being dishonest with a woman who probably had no instinctive understanding of dishonesty, but he didn’t exactly know how to explain the concept of clothing to somebody still figuring out want. Rex moved to the door, motioning the nurse over. He made a gesture of putting on a robe, and she ran off to get one.
