[Santa Olivia 02] - Saints Astray

by Jacqueline Carey

  “Do you—”

  “Want to know the worst I ever felt about hurting someone?” Loup interrupted her. “I said something that hurt my brother Tommy’s feelings the day he died, and I never got to tell him I was sorry for it. He died hurt and mad at me. I felt awful about it. I still do. Want to know the next worst? Leaving Pilar. There are all kinds of ways of hurting people and most of them suck.”

  Dr. Sheridan cleared her throat and consulted her notes. “Let’s talk about your brother, shall we? He was a boxer, too. Did you admire him?”

  “Yeah, I did. He was a great guy.”

  The psychological interview continued for several hours and Loup didn’t feel good about it. The empty feeling where fear should be grew bigger. The feeling was confirmed when Tom Abernathy reported on the psych team’s report to the GMO Commission.

  “They’re pushing the violence angle,” he said glumly. “Expressing concern that your history of violence coupled with the inability to experience fear and your extraordinary physical skills makes you highly dangerous.”

  “Yeah, it kinda felt like Dr. Sheridan was out to get me. What gives?”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “They’re supposed to be neutral, but I suspect the brass have been leaning on them. If they can convince the commission that a perfectly adorable teenage girl is a menace to society, it lays the groundwork for convincing them that scores of grown men with extensive military training are all the more so. It plants seeds of doubt. They’ll recommend against repealing the Human Rights Amendment out of sheer caution.”

  Loup smiled involuntarily. “Adorable?”

  Abernathy turned bright red. “We have a real problem here, Loup.”

  “I know, I know! So what do we do?”

  “At this point? Pray.”

  Two days later, the GMO Commission summoned Loup. She was escorted by Tom Abernathy and a pair of armed guards to appear before them in her orange jumpsuit and handcuffs.

  “Look harmless,” Abernathy advised her.

  “Doing my best.”

  There were five members on the commission, chaired by Marian Gallagher, a former Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services whose grandmotherly appearance was belied by her sharp gaze.

  The chairwoman peered over a pair of reading glasses as Loup was sworn in. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. Garron.”

  “So I understand, ma’am,” Loup said politely. “And not much of it good.”

  It won her a faint smile. “We’re eager to hear from you.”

  For three hours, the commission quizzed her on her life story, focusing heavily on incidents of violence. Loup struggled to tell the truth while painting a picture in the least incriminating tones possible.

  At noon they broke for lunch.

  “Well?” she asked Tom Abernathy.

  He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  The commission resumed its hearings an hour later. Instead of recalling Loup to the stand, they summoned a character witness.

  She caught her breath and shot to her feet when Pilar was escorted into the chamber.

  Tom Abernathy grabbed her arm. “Steady!”

  “Hey,” Loup said softly, her eyes stinging. “Hey!” Across the room, Pilar gave her a dazzling, tremulous smile that made her heart ache. Her entire body quivered with yearning. The members of the commission glanced back and forth between them, curious at the sudden tension. “Can’t I just—”

  “No!” Abernathy tugged at her. “Sit down, Loup!”

  She sat reluctantly.

  Pilar was sworn in.

  “You wish to address the commission?” Marian Gallagher inquired.

  “Yes. Thank you, ma’am.” Pilar took a deep breath. “I guess… I guess you know I testified at the Outpost hearings. And it’s kind of ironic that I’m here at all, because I would have stayed in Outpost all my life if I hadn’t fallen in love with Loup.” She snuck a sideways glance at her, eyes bright with tears. “I never had a lot of ambition.”

  Loup wriggled in her seat.

  “But then everything changed.” Pilar gazed at the ceiling a moment. “And this policy you guys are debating… it says that the person I fell in love with isn’t a person. I just want you to know that she is.” She collected herself, her voice growing stronger. “I know there are ways that she’s different. Believe me, I know it better than any of you ever will—and I love those differences. But Loup’s still a person just like you and me. Just like anyone. She gets cranky if you wake her out of a sound sleep. She has bad hair days, especially when it’s humid. She likes pancakes, and she knows all the lyrics to every song in The Sound of Music.” She gave a choked laugh. “Maybe that one doesn’t count. All of us Santitos do. It was one of the last videos that still worked.”

  The chamber was quiet.

  One of the members coughed. “Ms. Ecchevarria, have you ever had cause to fear Ms. Garron’s temper?”

  She gave him a blank look. “Loup’s? Are you joking?”

  He looked taken aback. “No.”

  “God, no!”

  “Do you deny witnessing violent incidents?”

  “No, but—”

  “Given her history, isn’t it fair to describe Loup Garron as having violent tendencies?”

  “No!” Pilar flushed angrily. “Have you even bothered to get to know her? Yes, Loup’s willing to fight for what she thinks is right. And yes, she can get worked up about something that’s unfair while the rest of us are just trying to get by. Or worse, trying to sweep it under the carpet like you’ve done here.”

  “I don’t think that’s—”

  “Oh, please!” She gave him a scathing look. “You don’t want to see her as a person. You want to see her as a science experiment or a—a tricky political issue because it makes it easier for you to do the wrong thing. And you think because she doesn’t share the same fears you do, it’s okay. Is that what makes us human? Fear?” Pilar shook her head. “I can tell you, she shares the same hopes and dreams you do. And I can tell you that she hurts the same. I watched her grieve for her brother when he died. And I hurt her once, badly.” She stole another glance at Loup, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I’d rather cut off my right hand than do it again. And if she’s missing me half as much as I miss her, she’s hurting pretty badly right now.”

  There was another silence in the chamber. Loup closed her eyes, listening to the thud of her aching heart.

  “Are you finished, dear?” Marian Gallagher asked sympathetically.

  “I’m sorry.” Pilar tried in vain to dash away her tears. “It’s just… if any of you are tempted to think of Loup as less than a person, please remember that to me, she’s much, much more.” She smiled across the room through her tears. “She’s my life.”

  They thanked her for her testimony. An aide stepped forward to escort her from the chamber.

  Loup rose, helpless. “Abernathy, please! Can’t I just see her for one minute? For one second?”

  “No.” He restrained her. “I’m sorry, Loup.”

  She watched Pilar go. Pilar went slowly, glancing over her shoulder, her face streaked with tears. The commission watched them both. When Pilar was gone, Loup sank into her seat, burying her face in her manacled hands.

  “Mr. Garza,” the chairwoman announced.

  “Mig?” Loup raised her head.

  Miguel Garza sauntered into the chamber with a lazy grin on his face. “Hey, kid!” he called to Loup. “You okay?”

  “Please don’t address the subject,” one of the members said sternly.

  His lip curled. “Is that what you’re calling her?” After being sworn in he took his seat. “Look, I’m not gonna waste time doing the gravitas thing. I can sum up Loup in one sentence for you. She’s a good kid with some freaky gifts, a hero complex, and a big heart. What the hell else do you need to know?”

  “You and Ms. Ecchevarria paint a portrait very much at odds with what our psych team concluded,” Marian Gallagher said shrewdly.
>
  Miguel snorted. “Yeah, I overheard some of the questions you were asking. Is that where all this bullshit about violence is coming from? Maybe because we actually know Loup. And maybe because we’re not in the Defense Department’s hip pocket.” He leaned forward. “Look, I know from violence. Me, I’m a violent guy. When I don’t get my way, it’s what I resort to. I’ve been known to pick fights in bars. I can be a belligerent drunk.” He jabbed a finger at Loup. “She’s not like that.”

  “Her history—”

  “Of what?” He raised his heavy brows. “Crusading do-gooderism? Avenging wrongs? Rescuing her friends? Let me tell you, Loup wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t gotten myself in trouble in Vegas. She could have stayed safely out of the country with her cushy bodyguard gig and her sweetheart. Speaking of whom, if you don’t think those two dingbats aren’t ridiculously in love, you’re fucking blind. All the way out there in the hallway, I could practically hear the violins playing.”

  Several members smiled.

  “And the thing is,” Miguel continued. “That hero complex? It starts to work on you after a while. Because Loup looks at things so fucking fearlessly, you start to, too. Once you confront your fears, you start thinking maybe you’re big enough to do the right thing after all. You think that crazy British pop band started out thinking they were gonna dedicate themselves to GMO rights?” He nodded at Tom Abernathy. “Bet you know what I mean, don’t you?”

  Abernathy colored. “I… uh, yes.”

  A murmur ran around the room.

  “Look at the little freak,” Miguel said with rough affection. “Two minutes ago she was a wreck. Now she’s sitting there giving me that goddamn shiny I-believe-in-you look. That goddamn look made me a better man. Menace to society? Please.”

  “Are you also… enamored… of Ms. Garron?” a retired general asked delicately.

  “Nah.” He smiled, leaning back in his chair. The chair creaked under his bulk. “She’s just a really good kid, that’s all. And a little too fearless for her own damn good. I care about her, okay?”

  “Do you have anything else to add, Mr. Garza?” the chairwoman inquired.

  Miguel considered. “Nope.”

  “Thank you for your time.”

  The commission ordered a brief recess before continuing. Tom Abernathy brought Loup hot tea with milk.

  “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” She glanced at him. “That was your big plan to make me seem more human? Bring in Pilar and yank my heart out of my chest?”

  “Ah… yes.”

  She sighed. “Good plan.”

  He was quiet a moment. “What Mr. Garza said. It’s true. If the Outpost hearings hadn’t gone as they did, I’d have gone public with my knowledge.”

  “You’re a good guy, Abernathy.”

  He smiled wryly. “Not really. I’ve known about it for a long time.”

  “Yeah, really.” Loup sipped her tea, manacled hands clasped around the cup. “Sometimes things happen for a reason, you know?”

  “God, I hope so.”

  The GMO Commission reconvened and put Loup back on the stand. Marian Gallagher peered over her reading glasses with a curious gaze. “Ms. Garron, we have highly conflicting descriptions of your nature. How do you account for this?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Preferably, yes,” she said dryly.

  “I think Miguel’s right,” Loup said. “Dr. Sheridan diagnosed me before we ever met. Everything she ever asked me was about violence and anger and hurting people. Did it say in the report that I’m a psychopath because I think scary movies are boring?”

  The chairwoman hesitated. “Your lack of affect raised concern.”

  “Hello?” Loup gestured at herself, the chain between her wrists rattling. “Can’t feel fear? It means I get bored watching scary movies, that’s all. I know the difference between fiction and reality. If you ask me, I think it’s weirder that normal people get off on being scared and watching imaginary characters get killed and tortured. Don’t you?”

  She blinked. “Umm…”

  “Look, I can’t help what I am. But it’s not this psychotic trait you’re trying to make it out to be. It’s more like a learning disability. We GMOs—” She made a face at the hated term. “We have to be taught how to recognize danger and avoid it. That’s it. That’s the main way we’re different from you. Why does it scare you so much?”

  “Ms. Garron…” Marian Gallagher paused. “Because it’s unnatural.”

  “Marian,” one of the other members began.

  She raised her hand. “Let’s at least be honest here. I want her to respond.”

  “I get it,” Loup said slowly. “But nature evolves, doesn’t it? Sometimes on its own and sometimes because we mess with it. That’s it, isn’t it? The thing Abernathy said to me about creators and created. You’re afraid if you let us live our lives, one day we’ll turn on you.”

  The retired general scoffed. “All one hundred and twenty-eight of you?”

  “I didn’t say it made sense. A lot of fear doesn’t. Maybe that’s easier to see from the outside.”

  The chamber was quiet, digesting the comment. Tom Abernathy nodded to Loup.

  “Look…” She struggled for words. “I don’t know what I can say to change your minds. If you believe the psychologists and decide to play it safe… I guess I’ll get sent back to that stupid cell to reread Great Expectations until I’ve memorized every line. Maybe you’ll find better doctors with better tests. Maybe the courts will decide in your favor and you’ll get all those documents you want. I bet when you review the service records of those hundred and twenty-seven guys, you’ll find out that they’re no more violent—”

  Marian Gallagher’s eyes widened. “General Tansey,” she said, interrupting Loup. “The enlisted men’s service records. Are those actually classified?”

  He shook his head. “No. Only their medical records. But the service records were requested as part and parcel of the classified materials documenting the GMO program, so it’s still tied up in court.”

  “But we could file a separate request?”

  “We could.”

  “Interesting,” she mused. “If the records don’t show a disproportionate history of violence, that would certainly bear out Ms. Garron’s testimony.” She turned back to Loup. “Tell me, what would you do if the Human Rights Amendment was overturned and you were released from custody?”

  Her eyes shone. “Seriously?”

  The chairwoman smiled. “Seriously.”

  “Are you kidding?” Loup laughed, giddy at the first ray of hope she’d felt in days. “God, I don’t even know! I can’t think past seeing Pilar.” She shivered with pleasure at the thought. “I hate seeing her so miserable, you know?”

  “I do.” The chairwoman eyed her. “And I think I begin to understand that disconcertingly shiny look your friend Mr. Garza mentioned.” She glanced around the chamber. “Any further questions?”

  Heads shook.

  “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Garron. Mr. Abernathy will keep you informed.”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  It took two more weeks for the second dam to break.

  Giddy hope gave way to resignation. Tom Abernathy came twice with nothing to report. Loup finished rereading Great Expectations for the third time. There was a change of rotation and the new guard on the day shift took pity on her and brought her a copy of Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men to exchange for her well-worn Dickens. She thanked him so profusely he blushed.

  On Abernathy’s third visit, he was grinning from ear to ear.

  “The commission’s report’s out.” He showed her a thick spiral-bound document. “They’re recommending repealing the Human Rights Amendment!”

  “No!” She stared at him. “Seriously? You’re not kidding?”

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “Senator Ballantine’s introduc
ing legislature today. They expect to vote on it within the week.”

  “Will it pass?”

  “I think so.” His grin was undiminished. “And the president has indicated he’ll sign it.”

  Loup let out a whoop. “Then I get to go?”

  Abernathy raised a cautionary finger. “There’s still the issue of the charges against you, three of which are valid. I’m pretty sure I can get the theft charge dismissed, but we’ll have to negotiate on the others. And that can’t happen until the amendment is repealed.”

  “Shit.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m good at what I do.”

  “What’s gonna happen to all the GMO soldiers when it happens?” she asked. “Will they be let go?”

  “Some of them.” He hesitated. “My guess is that there’s going to be a general amnesty for all the enlisted personnel who submitted affidavits on the Outposts. There are just too many to prosecute and it’s a thorny issue. But those involved in helping you escape face more serious charges.”

  “Is there anything you can do about it?”

  “Maybe.” Abernathy smiled. “You want me to try?”

  “Yeah, please!”

  Another week passed.

  The Human Rights Amendment was repealed by a wide margin.

  Tom Abernathy showed up at the detention center with another wide grin, a box of chocolates, a copy of the Washington Post, and three paperback novels.

  “I thought you weren’t allowed to give me anything,” Loup said, bewildered.

  He pointed to the Post’s headline, which read THEY’RE PEOPLE LIKE US. “As of today, you have civil rights, Loup.”

  “Can I talk to Pilar?”

  Abernathy winced. “Not yet, I’m afraid. Military custody has its own rules.”

  “Oh.”

  “It won’t be long. I promise.” He opened his laptop. “I want to review the details of your original detention in Outpost. You were subjected to sleep deprivation and withholding of food?”