Watching Yute

by Joseph Picard

  Cassidy stowed the gun in her new hip holster. “Can the ‘Sir’ stuff, alright? That’s not how stuff gets done around here.”

  “But Sir...”

  “No, come on, really. Do you really use that protocol in your unit? Do you call Armil ‘Sir’ all the time?”

  “No Sir, we call him Grand Elder.”

  This guy wasn’t going to budge on the ‘Sir’ thing. “Right. Anyway, thanks for the sidearm. Tell Armil I’ll be ready in an hour or so.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Uh... dismissed.”

  These Storms had their own way of moving. They could snap to attention, salute, or run any drill formation with all the speed and accuracy of any other soldier, but they did it quietly. Not as if they were ‘silent and deadly’ or anything. They were just quiet about things. No need for excessive sound.

  Despite their vaguely benevolent mannerisms, they were still far more militant than Cassidy was used to. Watching him leave the base allowed room for the peace to reassert itself.

  But the peace wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same. Cipriana’s imaginary aura didn’t feel as strong. Those damned lizards weren’t as charming. The metal reinforced walls of the base seemed now less interesting, and just a little more… junky.

  Cassidy took a stroll over to the temple to check in with Cipriana before leaving. She found her stride was different. Was it the gun on her hip, the slightly heavier spear, or a sense of focus. Don’t even let your mind go to Cheryl. Don’t. Don’t.

  There was a slight wind tossing sand around lightly. Since when did that happen? Note to self: Get some sunglasses. All the time here, and she never felt the need for them before.

  Even the damned temple felt like a stranger as she approached. She chose the left doorway at the bottom level. She didn’t want to pass the same spot where she cowered from the wind and sand as Cheryl’s killer passed by.

  “Hey Wanda, Jim.” Cassidy quietly greeted the two friends guarding the left doorway.

  “Cass.” Jim nodded.

  “Hey Cass, are you headed out to Cheryl’s-“

  “Yeah. Not sure when I’ll be back.”

  “Make it soon.”

  Climbing to the top door, she met with Cipriana and Maxine while that giant dog silently stared on. Cassidy returned the statue’s gaze with a bit of a glare. Her eyes were drawn to the spot on the floor where Cheryl died. Slow to drag her eyes away from it, she started speaking before looking at Cipriana.

  “Hey Cip.”

  “You’re departing?”

  “That’s right. It’s been a... it’s been a while since I got much distance between me and this place.” She didn’t know if she was feeling spite or nostalgia. It’s hard to feel super positive about staying in one place because leaving made your sanity fall apart.

  Cipriana put her hand on Cassidy’s shoulder, and spoke in a nearly solemn tone. “You’ll be in all our thoughts, Cassidy.”

  “Yeah.” Maxine added.

  Cassidy took a moment, and looked at them both fondly, but her expression changed as she looked to the statue again. She slowly walked further in towards the statue, holding the beast spear laxly in both hands.

  She cocked her head to the side and looked up at the big stone dog. “And what about you? Huh? Anything inspirational to say?” She paused, and gave it time to respond. It didn’t, so she lowered her head and turned around slowly, to begin the journey to the helipad.

  Maxine averted her eyes as Cassidy walked past, not wanting to see her pain too closely, and not having any helpful words. She looked up at Cipriana. Cip was so hard to read sometimes. She just looked calmly at Cassidy as she walked off.

  Cassidy’s footsteps faded down towards the front of the temple, and Maxine felt safe to release a sigh. “Cip. Do you think that’s really a good idea?”

  Cipriana looked back at Maxine with a mildly inquisitive expression. “What’s that?”

  “Cass, on the whole vengeance trail thing. I mean, I get it, Aguei stuff. But this is one… wouldn’t this kind of thing be better handled by a regular investigation, without a spear wielding griever on the front lines?”

  “I trust Armil,” Cipriana said, “If he feels it’s the way to the best result, he has his reasons.”

  “Yeah, well, what I asked was, do you think it’s a good idea? Besides, Cass has only been Aguei for a short time, primarily only by honours. I’m a full blooded Aguei, and I don’t get this shit.”

  Cipriana sighed. “At least it gives her something to do that feels constructive.”

  ~~~~~

  :::C /35

  ~~~~~

  “BURN” The computer set about its task, and Kirison leaned back to wait.

  That damned Jonathan Coll. There were more than a few guys attached to AutarLabs and Lancer who liked to have a little unofficial fun with nanites, but it was all harmless stuff. All harmless until Coll decided to go psycho with it all. Two damned cities worth of people. Poof.

  From that perspective, it was hard to blame the government for setting huge kneejerk laws. But as usual, the government wasn’t educated about new tech well enough to make even-handed decisions on it all. If they had been more patient, Kirison’s pet project could have revolutionized espionage, and a pile of other applications.

  But no, instead he’s now scrambling to save his own ass from surprise laws, and one teeny error in judgment about where to deploy a test scenario. It seemed like a good idea at the time. To make it worse, now there were deaths involved. It made him all the more glad that he had been injecting himself with his 'insurance policy'...

  Kirison’s idle pondering was interrupted by the computer ejecting the freshly created disk. On it was a polite little program. A virus, but not an especially nasty one. It would act without the user’s knowledge. When it did, it would send an email to the army and police. A tale of Horad.

  That bastard didn’t have to kill people. That wasn’t the plan. He was given everything he needed to get in and out quick and quiet. Kirison gave him the power to be unseen by infra red, and to summon a huge fucking sandstorm!

  In hindsight, Kirison decided he should have gone himself. He could have saved himself all that bar scrounging, the nano-cockfight, meeting the mob. He wouldn’t have had to carve those stupid little wooden token things. He should have just gone to the temple himself.

  Of course, there was still the chance that he would have been caught or killed in the process. Maybe Horad did have reason to kill. But it’s not like Horad was any boy scout before.

  Horad needed to go down. For society. Yes.

  Kirison knew that if this disk were left somewhere public, someone was bound to take the bait and run it on a computer that couldn’t ever be linked to him. It was a fair deal. The user would get what they expected from the label, and even if the email were traced back to that machine, they probably wouldn’t even connect it to the disk.

  He planned to place it at a bus stop near a high school. In such a place, he wagered to himself that the secret email would be quietly launched within half a day at most. More likely an hour or two.

  Just in case, he carefully wiped the disk down to remove any fingerprints before labeling it. He got out a marker and wrote in big tempting letters:

  “PORN”

  ~~~~~

  :::C /36

  ~~~~~

  Armil’s airlimb pushed itself up off the helipad slowly, carrying the weight of Cassidy’s disposition. Armil himself was no longer on board, he had other things to attend to. It was odd to think of somehow, even though Cassidy knew he didn’t live in the airlimb

  She sat in the main loading bay with one of the soldiers. She sat here because she didn’t really feel at home here. She didn’t feel like going any farther into the airlimb if she didn’t have to.

  She’d also rather be alone, but she wasn’t eager to engage the soldier in any conversation either. Sure, he’d leave if she asked. He might open the door and toss out all his clothes if she asked, as the
holder of the big honkin’ sacred bullshit spear.

  She cringed when he eventually broke the silence. “Sir, did anyone show you your private quarters?”

  “Hm? No. It can wait.”

  “Well, you should know that aside from the few possessions you brought onboard, there’s also a few outfits you can choose from, if you wish.”

  “Outfits??”

  “Your size, I believe.”

  “What kind of outfits!?”

  “Well, Sir, aside from a few extra sets of your fatigues, I took the initiative to get you a civilian suit with pants or skirt, and a dress uniform, since I didn’t think you had one.”

  “What the heck do I need a… oh. Duh, sorry.” Cheryl’s funeral. Everyone just wore their usual duty uniforms to Marcus’ ceremony. She decided on the spot to go with one of the civilian suits. She wasn’t going as Cheryl’s sister-in-arms. This was much more personal. She wished she could be alone there, too.

  The others from the base weren’t invited. The family wanted to keep the funeral small. Close family only. Cassidy was honoured to be invited on that basis, but at the same time, it might have been nice to have Maxine around, or Cip. Well. Maybe not Cip. Cip had her own loss to worry about, and besides, she was… different now. Damn it, she just wanted things to be like they were the day before the first attack.

  She snapped out of her drifting thoughts. “Uh, soldier, are you my personal butler or something? Not to seem ungrateful for the… wardrobe upgrade.”

  He chucked a bit. “Generally I work in ops, but that's secondary right now. I am assigned to you specifically. Anything you need, it’s my job to get it.”

  Cassidy shook her head slowly and sighed. “How about fifty liters of vodka?”

  He smirked. “Sorry Sir, you’ll have to wait until we resupply.”

  “Alright then. Hey what’s your name anyway?”

  He gave a casual salute. “Sergeant Keith Dixon, Sir.”

  “You’re the one that gave me my seventeen, right?”

  “Yes Sir. Is it alright? For you, I bet I could acquisition pretty much anything.”

  Cassidy shook her head. “Nah, I hate all guns equally. I just thought it’d be prudent to have one. Oh, and I think we had the ‘Sir’ discussion before, but if I just keep calling you ‘Keith’, will you call me ‘Cass’?”

  “You can try, Sir.”

  Cassidy groaned quietly. “Keith, you’re a smartass.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Cassidy closed her eyes and sat quietly, just listening to the engines. Keith made himself busy, not far away. Cassidy guessed he was trying to give her space while remaining available for orders.

  After a while, the sounds of the engines and Keith’s busy work started to irritate her. “Keith. This loading bay smells like a loading bay. Ya may as well show me those quarters.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Keith led Cassidy to a room, not that it was hard to find. An airlimb is a big aircraft, but it made for a pretty darn small dormitory. The door opened to a plain, regulatory looking room- aside from a rack on one wall that looked like it was meant for a spear.

  Cassidy stepped in, glanced at the bunk, footlocker, closet… “Kay, Keith. Thanks. Uh, dismissed. If I need you, I’ll yell down the hall or something.”

  “Right, Sir.”

  Nice enough guy, but she was glad to be rid of him. She flopped down on the bed and yanked her hat brim down harder. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the closet. Pantsuit or dress suit? Ehh, she should fight off the apathy to get up and check them out. The skirt would be a hard sell though.

  She stared at the closet, and thought how she had never seen Cheryl in a skirt. She was incredible in shorts. She must have been mind blowing in the right skirt.

  Cassidy grabbed the pillow and held it tight, gritting her teeth. How many years of Cheryl had she been robbed of? Forty? Fifty? Her grip tightened, and she wished that her nails would rip through the pillow.

  Her personal terminal chirped to life with a timid little ring, oblivious to how close it risked being thrown against the wall. Cassidy took a breath, and dug out the terminal to read the caller name.

  “Brandy Wicklow”. Great, the ex. Just what she needed. She glared at the terminal as it continued to ring, wishing that her “fuck off and leave me alone” glare would somehow reach Brandy without having to answer.

  The ringing stopped. Alright, maybe her glare did have that power. It must be the hat. She knew she liked her hat for a reason. Obviously the brim, when pulled down to just the right position, focused her glare into a magical “fuck off” beam.

  “Blipipip!” it chimed. “Missed call: Brandy - Message waiting” Damn. No magic glare. She’s going to have to work on it. She didn’t want to listen to the message, but she may as well talk to her, just to nip it in the bud. She called Brandy, who picked up fairly quickly, and her face popped up on screen.

  “Cass!”

  Cassidy’s voice came out so tired sounding that it surprised them both. “Whaaaat, what, what, what, what, what?”

  “Damn, Cass. You look like it’s been a hell of a day.”

  “What makes you say that? I was just thinking to myself how I felt like the magical princess of the universe.”

  “Okay, princess. Did you know your ‘tiara’ is like a mood barometer?”

  Cassidy pulled her hat’s brim down so that all Brandy could see was Cassidy’s chin. “It’s not too effective. Attempts to display an accurate reading mess up my ponytail. But back to the point. Whaaaat?”

  “Just calling to check up on you. Where the heck are you?”

  “I’m on the flying Aguei popemobile, okay?” She left the terminal on the bed, and went over to the closet. “Why exactly do you care so much huh? Are you looking for a rebound, or what?” With a hopelessly wrecked ponytail, she took off her hat and tossed it at the terminal, in the hopes it might irritate Brandy.

  Brandy sighed. “Cass, don’t be an idiot. I’m allowed to give a damn, alright?”

  Cassidy loosened her hair for later re-tying as she walked over to the terminal on the bed. She tipped it so Brandy could see the closet area. “Whatever. Shut up or make yourself useful and gimmie some advice.” She turned her back to the terminal to go through the closet.

  “Sure, wear your hair loose more often.”

  “Not about that.”

  “The other thing I was going to say was less tasteful.”

  “Crazy bitch.” Cassidy muttered with mild exasperation. She turned around with the two black suits held up. “I have this happy cheery event later today. I have my option of the pantsuit,” as she held it up against herself. “Or, here we have,” she held the dress suit out and looked at it for a split second before scoffing, and putting it back in the closet. “Pantsuit it is.”

  “You needed me for that?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well then, take my earlier suggestion about the hair.”

  Cassidy flipped Brandy the bird, and started tying her hair back again. “A low ponytail is classier. Loose hair is just for…”

  “Ah, yes.”

  Cassidy stared into the blackness of the pantsuit, and became lost. She slowly tightened her grip on the fabric, and started sliding against the closet door, towards the floor.

  “Cassidy. Hello? Snap out of it.”

  Cassidy eventually came to be seated on the floor, still holding the suit. “No. Don’t wanna.” She looked into the blackness some more. “She’s dead, you know.” She said softly.

  Brandy looked down and sighed. “I know, Cass.”

  “She died. She was killed. By some coward.”

  “I know.”

  “They told me to find him. I get to kill him.”

  “What?” Brandy shouted.

  “With a big spear. Aguei thing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Cassidy jumped up with a sudden resurgence of energy, and brought the beast spear's tip close to the terminal. “This.” She explai
ned abruptly. ”This goes into the chest of the fucking bastard who killed the angel I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

  “Are you serious!?”

  “Look it up on the net or something. I have a funeral to get ready for.” Cassidy hung up on Brandy, and tossed the terminal aside. Enough of the pointless chatter. She stood stoically for a while, almost at attention with the spear, tapping her finger on it so that Cheryl’s ring tapped on it.

  Hastily, she put the spear up on the wall rack, and started getting changed. She dropped her tank top on the bed and felt the need to lean in and punch it in the ‘gut’ as hard as she could.

  Once, twice. Three, four, five. She looked at it spitefully, as if it deserved being punched into a crumpled crater. Focus. Getting dressed would take a while if she had to beat the shit out of her whole outfit.

  A backhanded fist to the closet’s metal door was more satisfying anyway. It hurt more though. Especially with her ring hand.

  ~~~

  “It should be raining.” She thought to herself. Sunlight seemed inappropriate. It was bright. She had sunglasses tucked in her suit jacket, but decided it might not be proper to wear them during the memorial. She wasn’t paying attention to the speaker, or much of anything. She was focused on thinking of little unimportant distracting things, and not looking at the urn, or the picture leaning by it with a frame of flowers. Think about the suit. It fit very well, it felt nice. A nice change from her usual wardrobe. That spear was kind of heavy. Heavier than the usual guard duty spears. Think about the room on Armil’s airlimb. She thought about changing her hair colour, and decided against it. She thought about the sounds of the birds, and wondered if they made more or less sound around the graveyard than other similar places. She thought about Alan’s cookies. Thought about her hat, and wondered if it was lonely.

  Whoops. Take a breath.