Last Song (Heinlein's Finches Book 3)

by Robin Banks

  I didn’t see that coming. I don’t have a good answer ready.

  “Nah. I didn’t ask, though.”

  “I figured as much. Did you not ask because you didn’t want to know or because you didn’t think they wanted you to know?”

  “Dunno. Mostly it didn’t seem my business.”

  She squints at me. “You risked your life to save Quinn’s. I think that makes it your business.”

  “I didn’t do it ‘cause of those guys, though. I did it ‘cause of Quinn. Not even that: I did it ‘cause of me.”

  That makes her smile. “Sure. That’s not really my worry, though. I think Alya is of the impression that people can turn their mental processes on and off at will, that someone can just decide that something is over and done with and banish it from their thoughts. I’ve never found that to be the case. The way I get closure is by finding things out and thinking about them, then parking them when I’m good and ready. Way I see it, you’re entitled to the details of this story, such as they are, because you’ve been a part of it. It should be up to you how you move on to your next story.”

  I think about it for a bit. “Yeah. Ok. I wanna know.”

  “What do you want to know? I have data, anecdotes, and conjectures.”

  “Everything, I guess. But tell me which is which.”

  She takes a deep breath and sits up a bit straighter.

  “We don’t have much in the way of data. We know that the DNA of one of those guys matched that of one of the Patrolmen involved in that unpleasantness back in ‘68. We know that he was reported dead two years ago with another Patrolman, who had been on the same squad on Pollux. We don’t know for sure that this second Patrolman was one of the guys you blew up, but Quinn reckons that the other guy he saw looked very much like the dead Patrolman’s holo. At the time of their deaths – their first deaths, the official ones – they were still serving, just: they were under internal investigation for a series of misdemeanors. Some of them weren’t that minor. Drug use was one of the less malignant ones. I reckon they would have been kicked out of the Patrol, if not prosecuted. It still seems way too hard for Patrolmen to get done, but that’s another story. Anyway, they died in service, so one of their wives got a pension.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “She was unlucky. She’d just filed for divorce. The reasons she gave suggested that the guy’s behavior on Pollux wasn’t just an odd blip.” Her jaw tightens. “He was not a nice man. He was also some kind of empath. Maybe not a strong one, not enough to pass a psi-test. Maybe his psi-bility was so weak that it didn’t work noticeably without dust. A bit like yours, I guess.” She looks a question at me. I don’t have the skill to look it back.

  “Dunno. Quinn said I could do bits before, but that was after she showed me stuff. I haven’t tried since. I still don’t get why those guys nabbed Quinn.”

  “The guy with the psi-bility sensed Quinn’s scan.”

  “But why did he kidnap her?”

  “We don’t know. He didn’t say. He might have wanted to make sure that Quinn wouldn’t interfere with his plans, or to involve her in his activities. If pain is your thing, it must be a hoot to hurt people in front of an empath. A sympathetic empath, I mean. Seems like this was the problem with that guy: he could feel people’s emotions, like Quinn does, but he got a kick out of feeling them suffer.”

  That makes me feel ill. “I don’t think I want to think about that.”

  “Me neither. That’s all we know for a fact anyway: you guys knocked off a mock-dead scumbag ex-Patrolman, most likely with his buddy, and two unknowns who were somehow involved in their activities. That’s the sum total of our data, but we have some anecdotal information. The two guys weren’t just involved in that crap in ‘68. I spoke to some of our girls, and they were the two who started it all. Not that it absolves the rest of the squad, but those two started it and egged other Patrolmen on.”

  “I don’t think I want to think about that either.”

  She pats my leg. “I don’t blame you. They’re gone, anyway. Whether their deaths solve our little problem or not remains to be seen. So far, so good, but that doesn’t mean much.”

  “I still can’t work out why they would have just started going around killing their ex squad buddies. And why now?”

  “We’re not sure. We’ll probably never know. Wouldn’t it be handy if baddies took the time to give you the lowdown on their motives, like they do in the threedees? It’s very inconsiderate of them to keep their secrets to themselves. I have some conjectures, but they’re based more on my biases than on any facts. Their lives were imploding. One of them was about to lose his family. They were both about to lose their jobs, if not their freedom. It’s not just about the loss of credit: they were about to lose the status that had enabled them to be socially functional monsters. That in itself may be enough to spur some people to commit desperate acts. There is more, though.” She takes a deep breath and looks out in the distance.

  “The thing about taboos is that you can only break them once. Once you break a taboo, it’s broken. People have got this idea that if you do something awful you’ll feel bad about it and never want to do it again, but that’s not always how it goes. Some people get a real kick out of doing bad stuff. They yearn to commit terrible acts the way me or you yearn for whatever makes our lives worth living. The only thing stopping them is the strength of their taboos. Once they overcome that, the only thing stopping them is the fear of getting caught. They play nice – no, they don’t. They do precisely as much as they think they can get away with. Once they overdo it, once that fear goes too, then there’s nothing stopping them.”

  She goes quiet and looks at me.

  “Yeah. I get it. I mean, I don’t, I can’t feel it, but I understand how it might work, I think. Really, I don’t wanna think about it. It makes my head feel dirty.”

  She sighs. “Yes. I’m perfectly happy not to be able to relate to someone who enjoyed hurting people to feel their pain and may or may not have been a serial killer. I’m perfectly happy to be too different from him to really get him. Hell, I’m even happy he’s dead, along with the people who helped him make his nightmares a reality. I can’t find it in my heart to feel bad about that.”

  “Me neither. I think. I dunno yet.”

  “And Raj?”

  “We haven’t talked about it.”

  She sighs. “You know each other best. Anyway, I just wanted you to know what I know, assuming that you wanted to know it. We never have to speak about this again, if you don’t want to.”

  “Yeah. Ok. I will have to think about it.”

  “Or not.” She pats my leg. “Are you going over to Kolya’s now?”

  I nod. My hiding game is up anyway, and I miss my people.

  “Give him my love, please. He was an angel when Mattie was unwell. He was the best of all of us around her. He’s such a soothing presence.”

  “That he is.”

  She pats my leg again and gets up.

  “If you can find the time to visit us again, we’ll sure appreciate it. Asher will want to see you before you clear off. He’s coming down early tomorrow.”

  She doesn’t say anything about Quinn. I choke on my goodbye a little, but not too much.

  The next three days are alright. Hanging out with Kolya always feels good, even when I don’t feel good in general. They don’t ask me where I’ve been and I don’t volunteer the information. It’s all good. The only thing that sucks about it is that I know that it will be over soon.

  We don’t all go to visit Asher’s lot until the very last day to avoid overloading Mattie. She’s doing ok, though, so they invite the four of us over for dinner. Kolya and I end up cooking. I don’t mind. It gives me something to do, a reason to stay out of people’s way and not say much.

  Quinn whisks Mattie in for dinner. Mattie looks better – not so tightly wound, though a lot more serious than a five-year-old ought to be, maybe. Then again, what the hell do I k
now? Mattie has always been more of a thinker than me, never mind me at her age. They stay for dinner but they go back to Mattie’s room right after. I kinda hate watching them leave.

  I don’t like it much better when Quinn comes back, though, because she comes straight at me. I nearly shit a brick wondering whether there’s going to be some awful rehashing of one of our scenes, but instead she stands formally next to me like a valet at one of Raj’s functions.

  “Luke, I don’t mean to disturb you.”

  “No bother. Not disturbing.”

  “Mattie would like to see you. You don’t have to see her, but she asked, and I feel obliged to pass the message along.”

  “See me? Why?”

  “She didn’t say. She just requested an audience with you. Those were her exact words, by the way.”

  That makes me smile. “How very formal of her.”

  She doesn’t smile back. “What should I tell her? You don’t have to see her.”

  “When a kid of five asks you for an audience, you kinda have to say yes. Will she be ok? I don’t want to upset her.”

  “She’ll be fine. I would not have agreed if I had any concerns.”

  “Of course. Let’s do it.”

  “Now?”

  “Sure. If it’s convenient for the lady.”

  We head over to one of the rooms round the back of the house. Walking next to Quinn like we’re strangers is so painful I wish my fucking heart would give up already and explode, but it refuses to help me out.

  As soon as I see them together everything clicks into place in my head. Quinn is a parent through and through. She is where she should be, doing what she should do. Suddenly I feel at peace about it all. It still fucking hurts, but everything ended up right. I just have to accept it.

  Quinn sits on a chair in the furthest corner while Mattie walks up to me and hugs my legs.

  “You come sit here. It’s comfy.”

  She drags me to her bed and makes me sit down. I wonder if Quinn sleeps here with her these days. I want to kick myself for thinking about that, but I have to save it for after they’re done with me.

  Mattie sits next to me and smiles. “I’m sorry I didn’t say hi when you got here. People were pushing on my brain.”

  “Yeah. I heard. Is it better now?”

  “Yes. Nonny is shielding me until I can do it myself. It can’t even be done, but she’s doing it for me. She says you taught her.”

  “It was an accident, kinda. But I’m glad it works.”

  “Mostly it does. Not with mommy, daddy, and Jojo. Nonny is all tangled up with them. And not with you.”

  My insides congeal. “Say what?”

  “She can’t block you out, even when she tries very hard.”

  I look at Quinn. She doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are scrunched up shut.

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s ok. She looks away so she can’t see. Your sad goes all the way.”

  “What?”

  “When mommy and daddy and nonny are sad, their sad is a bit of them. Like when you hit yourself and you get a bump: it’s you, but it’s not all of you, and after a bit it goes away. Jojo gets big sads, even bigger than he is, but they come and go quick. Your sad isn’t like that. It’s all the way through and it stays there. You should fix that.”

  “How?”

  “Find some happy to push it out. Happy is nicer.”

  My mouth has gone dry and my eyes are really itchy. I have to hold myself together: me losing my shit is the last thing this kid needs.

  “You might be right.”

  “There’s a bit of sad shaped just like you left inside my nonny.”

  I bite the inside of my mouth so I don’t cry.

  “I didn’t want that to happen.”

  “I know. I am trying to help. Mommy and daddy are helping too.”

  “That’s kind of you.”

  “Not really. It’s what we do. We’ll do it for you too, if you stay. Then you’ll be happy.”

  “Maybe. Maybe my sad would spread all over. I wouldn’t like that.”

  “Me neither. But I like you. My nonny loves you, you know?”

  Quinn lets off a groan. “Mattie, please!”

  She shrugs. “It’s true. And you’re going away soon.”

  I nod. “Tomorrow.”

  “There’s enough for you here, you know?”

  “What?”

  “Love. There’s enough for you, even though there’s a lot of us.” She climbs up on my knee, gets her face right close to mine, and eyeballs me hard. “Some people think love is like sweeties, that if you got some and give them to people then you will run out. That is just silly, because with love the more you give it out the more you have. Some people think it’s like a blanket and if you try to cover too many people some will get cold, or the blanket will get pulled about until it breaks. That’s not right either. It’s more like hugs. If I am hugging my nonny, I can’t hug my mommy at the same time. Only one person per hug, see? If you do it right. When daddy and nonny were away on the ship, my mommy could get more hugs from me. Now she gets less from me, but she gets hugs from nonny and daddy too. So everybody gets more. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because it’s not about counting. It’s just nice.”

  “Yeah. I get that.”

  “If you stay here, you can get hugs too.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “But you’re still going?”

  “I have to.”

  “Will you come back?”

  I shake my head. I can’t say the word.

  “When nonny and daddy go away, they come back.”

  “They belong here. I don’t.”

  “Do you belong somewhere else?”

  “Nah.”

  I’m trying to be cool, but I’m not doing a very good job and I don’t know how long I can keep it up for. Quinn isn’t even trying.

  Mattie gives me a hug. “I’m sorry. I have to go and hug my nonny now. She has a big sad. And it’s my bedtime anyway. Have a good trip.”

  I try to thank her, to say goodbye, to say something to make everything better, make everything make sense, but my throat seized up. I leg it out of there instead. The last thing I see is Quinn trying to smile at Mattie through a flood of tears.

  There’s no way in hell I’m going back to the house in this state and I can’t just go off, so I take myself for a walk to calm the fuck down. I figure that heading away from the main compound towards the fish tanks will get me some peace and quiet. Typically, I figured wrong. I run into Asher instead. I nearly miss him because he’s sitting between two of the sheds. When I see him, though, I can’t just walk away, because he’s obviously been crying.

  He rubs his face, as if that could fix it, then he looks at me and frowns.

  “You look like someone who’s been talking with my daughter.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “You look like shit.” He shakes his head and sighs. “I married a genius and an empath. I knew it wasn’t going to be simple. I just never thought it would be this hard.”

  His eyes open up wide and tears fall down, and I can’t leave him like this. I sit next to him and shut the fuck up. I hope that’s enough, because I don’t know what else to do.

  He pushes the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. “When I landed today, she came up to me and told me that it’s ok that I’m upset. And that’s just grand, but it just seems fucked up that my five-year-old kid is comforting me. I’m supposed to be the parent. Even though I’m not.”

  “You what?”

  “Her psi-bility. It could be an independent mutation, but it’s more likely that she got it from Quinn. We never knew who her actual father was. We could have found out, but we never wanted to know. It looks like she really is Quinn’s daughter, after all.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “What?”

  “You are her actual father. This doesn’t change a damn thing.”

  “That’s what she said. That n
othing is different between us, that she will always be my daughter and I will always be her daddy, but that it’s ok that I feel sad because I didn’t make her. That she loves me, I love her, and I will get over it soon and it will all be ok. But that I better hurry up and finish being ridiculous about this because she missed me for a long time, she wants me back, and the way I’ve been carrying on since we got here doesn’t cut it, or words to that extent.”

  “Gods. She really is your fucking kid.”

  He turns to look at me. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t know anyone else who talks that straight. She might as well have socked you in the mouth. She didn’t get that from Quinn.”

  “Gwen talks straight.”

  “Not like that, she doesn’t. She’s got filters.”

  “Thank you?”

  “Sorry. It’s true, though.”

  “I guess it is. I still resent you for saying that, though.”

  “There you go, talking straight again.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Not a bit. You wanna know what’s funny? You’ve got the best family I’ve ever seen, you’ve been away for weeks, and instead of being with them now you’re out here bellyaching ‘cause your sperm lost a race.”

  He scowls. It looks weird on his face. “I’m bellyaching because I’m doing so badly that my daughter feels compelled to parent me.”

  “Even better. Your tiny kid is more balanced and mature than you. You’ve only fucking started bringing her up and she’s already kicking your ass – kicking most people’s asses, really. I know she can kick mine. She just did. That kid is solid. Makes perfect sense for you to feel terrible.”

  “I ought to be a better parent.”

  “Look, I don’t know shit about being a dad. I mean, I can barely remember my dad and the only thing I learnt from him was that I was better off not getting noticed. But I thought a good parent was one who raises the kids so they come up good. I mean, I thought that was the metric. So your kid is better than you: doesn’t that show that you did good? She learnt this shit from somebody.”

  “Probably not from me. She’s got two good parents.”

  “I thought you had something to do with that, too. Or did the two of them just turn up and told you that they were in a relationship with you?”