by J. Naomi Ay
"And, go where? How?"
"I don't know. I haven't figured it out yet. But, we need to go, agreed? We need to find..."
Rent made a hissing sound, immediately silencing Steve. "He'll hear."
"No, he won't. It's dawn. He's already downstairs in his office."
"He can hear us from there. He knows what we're thinking."
"No, he doesn't," Steve insisted. "He's too busy to worry about us."
Rent shifted uneasily in his chair, the doubt clearly written on his face. "We should learn sign language," he muttered.
Steve snorted, and took another long drag on his cig. Even that wouldn’t help.
It was strange being back in Takira-hahr at his childhood home, living in the bedroom which still had pics of trains on the walls. His old bookcase was still stocked with English books from Earth and brightly colored wooden trains lined a whole shelf.
"That's cute," Joanne had said when they first arrived, after dropping her single bag on the bed. "I used to read those books too."
Rent had studied the trains carefully before examining every inch of Steve's old room, imagining himself there instead of Darius II. He picked up each toy, opened each book, and glanced over the words even though he didn't speak English. He looked through the closets at the clothes Steve used to wear. He fingered an old football covered in dust from sitting on the floor.
Steve felt marginally guilty, although he didn't know why. It wasn't his fault. Rent hadn't even been born when they lived here.
"It's alright, dude." Steve punched his brother lightly in the shoulder. "You didn't miss that much. Sometimes, this place really sucked."
Rent smiled a little, his lips bending into curved line.
"It's alright, Steve. My foster parents were awesome."
They weren't, unless one considered benign neglect the proper way to raise a child. Rent didn't admit that though. Frankly, he wasn't certain which set of parents were worse, those that pretended he didn’t exist, or the missing mother and mad father he had since acquired.
"We need to leave," Steve said again, exhaling a cloud of gray smoke into the still morning air.
"How?" Rent watched his brother's breath dissipate, the molecules breaking up.
Like the security dome fence that surrounded them, his brother's smoke became invisible. It was still out there, Rent could smell it. He could feel it in his own lungs. Yet, he couldn't touch it. He couldn't break the invisible photonic bubble that made up their prison.
"I don't know yet. I have some ideas though. We can't talk about it here. Don't even think about it, in case he happens by."
"Do you think he's going to kill us, Steve?" Rent's voice was nearly a whisper. “Is it just a matter of time? What’s he waiting for?”
“I think he’s going to kill everybody, Rent,” Steve replied. “Or, stand aside while we all kill each other. Let’s make a pact, bro. You and me. We stick together no matter what. That’s the only way.”
“What about Joanne?”
Steve made a slight movement with his head. He tamped out his cigarette, and rose from chair.
“You and me, Rent. That’s it.”
“Ok,” Rent breathed. “You and me. How quickly?”
“As soon as I can work the details. We’ll break out of this jail, and head to Earth.”
“Earth? Why there?”
“That’s where Katie is,” Steve replied. “I just know it. I don’t know how she got there, but I’m absolutely certain. I’m also certain she’s hiding because she knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Chapter 3
Anne Black was pushing a giant cart in the Big Box store when she heard the man’s voice. For a moment, it stunned her, so much so, she stood paralyzed while the sea of busy shoppers parted around her.
For a moment, Anne’s arms went weak. The cart with only two items, a box of tomatoes and a wheel of French cheese, became too heavy for her to push.
For an agonizingly slow measure of time, Anne’s world spun on end, as she rotated her body in the direction of the voice, only to discover she had made a mistake.
A man was hurrying by, a loaf of bread in one hand, a cell propped against his ear in the other. He stopped at the table of samples, some kind of nut candy which hadn’t interested Anne. As he reached down to snatch one, his eyes briefly glanced at her.
They locked for a fraction of a second, Anne and this strange man, searching in each other for something familiar. Something had gone missing. Something had become lost to both of them. Could they possibly find it here in front of the mega sized boxes and bags of fruit and nuts?
No. Anne blinked. She spun around, breaking the connection. This stranger was merely that, a stranger, and nothing more. With new found energy, she attacked her cart, shoving it back into the milling hordes of Sunday shoppers. She had come for lightbulbs, batteries, socks, and frozen pizza.
On her limited budget, the French cheese and tomatoes were a splurge. She was already contemplating whether to put them back. Synthetic yellow cheese was much cheaper, and tomatoes, she could live without.
Inexplicably, Anne felt tears come to her eyes. She knew it was a silly thing to be cry about, this decision on what to buy. Good cheese, or bad cheese. Frozen pizza, which she hated, or fresh tomatoes, which she liked.
Still, a decision had to be made. Anne had to eat, and her paycard contained only a tiny amount of funds.
Anne wavered, blocking the hordes for far too long, earning herself some angry stares, and more than a few profanities were lobbed in her direction.
“Are you alright?” that same voice asked, the man with the cell, the man who had sounded almost like, well, you know who.
Again, Anne looked up in surprise, her heart suddenly racing at the almost familiar baritone tones, and then, immediately falling as she realized once again, he was merely a stranger.
“You look so distressed. May I help you?” The man took Anne’s cart, pushing it out of her reach, while setting his loaf of bread next to her wheel of cheese. “You know what we’re missing? A bottle of wine. Merlot?” He narrowed his eyes, and pretended to study her. “No, I’d say you were more of a Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio type girl.”
"How'd you guess?" Anne responded drily, never having cared much for wines. A bottle of Royal Mishnese Beer, the Draft of Kings, had always been her beverage of choice, although she wasn't about to tell this to the stranger. "May I have my cart back, please?"
"Actually, no," he replied, leading her toward the wine department. "I'm thinking something dry with a little citrus to start with. Then, something sweet and fruity to enjoy with dessert. I bet you would like a Mosel. No hold on." He stepped back, gazing at her thoughtfully again. "I pegged you wrong." He picked up a six pack of Mexican beer. "A squeeze of lime and a frosted glass for the señorita."
Anne laughed. She couldn't help herself. "Thanks, but I really need to finish my shopping."
"I insist, Madame," the stranger said and made a little bow, which sent Anne's heart skipping into overdrive. A sweat broke out on her forehead. "What else do we need? How about some fish? It would pair well with our cheese, bread, and beer."
"No!"
"No? I've got an idea. I make a mean omelet. How about we pick up a dozen eggs and go from there?"
"No! No eggs!" Anne's palms began to sweat as her blood pounded in her ears. "Listen, please. Thanks, but no thanks. You're being very nice, but I didn't come shopping to get picked up by a total stranger."
The man stepped back, blinking rapidly, as if she had just struck him.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound that way. I don't usually come here to pick up women. I apologize again." Taking his bread and beer from the cart, he smiled whimsically, and shrugged. "See ya around."
Now, Anne felt chagrined.
"It's alright," she shrugged too, "I'm flattered. Thanks. See ya around." She walked away.
"Hey," he called after her. "You wouldn't want a cup of coffee, would you? Outside a
t the kiosk?"
"Okay."
Why not? It was just a cup of coffee, and Anne didn't have anything better to do. Together, they headed to the front of the store where the man paid for his bread and the beer.
Anne put her tomatoes and cheese on the conveyor and then, swiped with her paycard. She was careful to conceal the screen from the stranger's eyes, as she didn't want him to discover how little she had.
Their purchases were bagged, and together they headed out to kiosk where Anne ordered a soy latte, and the stranger ordered a drip coffee, black.
Sitting down at a small plastic table with an excellent view of the parking lot, Anne quickly surveyed the surrounding identical plastic tables filled with noisy children consuming oversized hot dogs.
"Good coffee," the stranger said, raising his cup in a toast.
"It is," Anne agreed, sipping from hers.
Not finding anyone or anything of note, Anne returned her gaze to her companion. Clandestinely, she glanced at the stranger over the rim of her plastic lid. He was attractive. Middle aged with sandy brown hair. It was sprinkled with gray, which went well with his bright hazel eyes. He had lovely eyes actually, flecked with bits of green and gold. He was a handsome man, a beautiful man as there was something extraordinarily striking about him.
However, Anne wasn’t looking for a man, extraordinary or not. In fact, another man was the absolutely last thing on her list.
Still there was something about him that drew her attention; that made her reconsider the bread and cheese affair with a glass of beer.
"Gabe," he said, toasting her with his coffee cup.
"What?" Anne quickly averted her eyes before he caught her appraising him.
"I said I'm Gabe," he repeated. "My name is Gabe Horner. And, you are?"
"Anne," Anne said quickly. "My name is Anne Black."
Did Anne catch a hint of disbelief? Did Gabe wink before he smiled?
"Anne," he repeated. "Do you know who you remind me of?"
"Yes, but I can assure you I am neither of them."
"Really? I was hoping you were."
Now it was Anne's turn to look surprised.
"Anne was a girl I went to school with. High school. I had a mad crush on her, but sadly, she never noticed me."
"Oh!" Anne gasped, both with relief and chagrin.
There was no way it could have been her. When she was in high school, she wasn't called Anne, and furthermore, she was probably several decades older than Gabe. She didn't look it though. Not now. Now, she looked half her calendar age, and felt even younger. A brief stay in the Black Eye Galaxy had been like drinking from the proverbial Fountain of Youth.
"So, are you new to the area?" Gabe held out his cup as if he was toasting her. "You have a lovely accent. I’m trying to figure out where it comes from."
Anne sipped her latte, contemplating the child at the neighboring table. He was feeding bits of pizza to the pigeons while his mother was busily texting someone on her cell. This proved a good distraction for Anne, a reason to focus her attention on something other than Gabe's question, a reason to hide that accent she no longer heard in her own voice.
“So where are you from?” Gabe prodded, ignoring Anne’s reluctance. He reached into the cart and extracted the loaf of bread. Breaking off a hunk, he handed it to Anne. It was some kind of rustic, crusty loaf mixed with rosemary and olive oil. He smiled and indicated the cheese. “Perfect match. A coincidence, or something more?”
“Go ahead.” Anne waved, her eyes narrowing again.
She didn’t believe in coincidences, not any more. Bread, cheese, a man who spoke like…No!
Get a grip on yourself, Anne! Not in the Big Box store! Gabe was just a Gabe. Not anyone, or anything else. Look how innocently he struggles to open the package of cheese.
“So, who is this mysterious Anne Black?” Gabe asked, while attempting to slice the heavy rind with a plastic spork.
The truth was complicated. Anne was new to the area, while at the same time this was where she had been born. She didn't want to tell Gabe that though. She didn't want to explain where she had been, or how she came back here aboard a stolen Spaceforce shuttle.
The shuttle had been traded to a Martian pawnbroker for pennies on what it was worth, in exchange for false ID in the name of Anne Black. She also managed six month’s rent on a cheap flat in the sticks, and enough credits to occasionally buy tomatoes or French cheese, if she ate beans all the rest of the week.
Most of all, Anne didn't want to tell Gabe, or anyone else, why she had come because the truth was, Anne didn't know herself. No matter how she rationalized it, no matter how many times she played the different scenarios around in her head, there seemed to be only one reason that Anne was here. Her husband didn't want her anymore.
“I know where you’re from,” Gabe announced jubilantly, as if he had just solved a complicated puzzle. “You’re Rehnorian. I recognize the accent. I should know. There are so many of you folks in this area now.”
“Really?” Anne responded with a jolt of panic.
“Lots of refugees.” Gabe carefully spread the cheese on the bread, handing it to Anne with great flourish. “I imagine things are terrible there now. From what I’ve heard, the whole place has imploded.”
“Really?” Anne said again, anxiously glancing around the parking lot, and the entrance to the store once again, trying to discern who was and wasn’t Rehnorian.
She’d have to color her hair again, and start wearing hats and sunglasses. She’d have to lose the accent, force herself to pronounce things the old way.
“You don’t watch the news? Yes, the whole empire has broken up. They’re all fighting each other again, as if the whole experiment never happened. I did hear the Emperor is back though, and that’s not necessarily a good thing?”
“Why not?”
“He’s none too happy by what he found upon his return. This guy I was speaking with, just the other day, told me he barely managed to escape with his life. He was a banker or a broker, or maybe he was some minor politician. Anyway, they’re all being executed right and left by Imperial Decree.”
“Oh!” Anne swallowed hard, trying to control the tremor in her voice. “What about the Princes and the young Princess? Did your friend say anything about them?”
“No.” Gabe finished the dregs of his coffee. “Hey, do you want to split a fro-yo berry sundae? My treat.” He stood up to wait in line.
Anne stared at her untouched hunk of bread slathered with her expensive French cheese, while trying to focus her thoughts on Rehnor in ruins. She imagined Senya on a rampage, killing half the population just for breathing, while Steve and Rent cowered in a corner.
She had to do something. She couldn’t let the Rehnorian people be destroyed. But what? She couldn’t stop Senya. She had no money, and no one to call to come fetch her, even if she were to try. Furthermore, she couldn’t stop him. She never could.
“This looks delicious,” Gabe announced, returning with a sundae and two spoons. “Now, that we’ve had appetizers, coffee, and dessert, shall we go for dinner?”
“Dinner?” In truth, Anne was hungry, and this would be one less meal she’d have to buy. Gabe wasn’t so bad, just a human guy with no agenda. What would be the harm in having a bite to eat with him? “Alright,” she agreed. “Just no eggs or fish. I want beef, a really big juicy burger.”
Chapter 4
Rent was standing on the third floor balcony in front of his bedroom when the new employees were admitted into the front hall.
He had seen the spaceplane approach. It was an old SdK 838 owned by the Rozarian branch of the company. There were seven such planes in their inventory. It was a good plane, the workhorse of their fleet. Rent had always been impressed with that model’s engineering. If Rent could have kept one plane, it would have been that one.
Last year, Rent had sold off all the planes which had remained in the Rehnorian company’s possession. This was a desperate measure to ra
ise funds before the imminent bankruptcy, a last minute attempt to try to stave it off.
He had also signed off the divestiture of the Rozarian company, creating an entirely separate entity, which allowed the Rozarian branch to stay afloat while the Rehnorian corporation burned.
At the time, Rent had thought this a brilliant move. It had insured income and assets for their eventual recovery. These funds, he knew, were supporting everyone here now.
Rent had thought his father might have thanked him for doing this, or at least, acknowledged what he had done. But, his father had said nothing, certainly nothing resembling praise. Not that Rent had expected any. He didn’t. He was merely hoping for confirmation that he wasn’t a complete fool.
That confirmation never came, so perhaps, Rent was indeed an idiot, at least in his father’s silver eyes.
Actually, at this point, Rent didn’t want his father to recall that he was even alive. To that end, Rent hid in the shadows throughout the day. He tried not to think of anything at all, just in case his father was in transmission range. Rent had no idea just how far his father’s ESP could intercept, but Rent wasn’t willing to take any chances.
On occasion, Rent overheard his name, either in casual conversation, or being discussed by Taner or Kinar. When this happened, Rent would break out into a sweat, and his heart would palpitate. It usually took several minutes before he could breathe normally again.
“Please God, no,” he would pray. “Don’t let him summon me to his office.”
God must have been listening, as Rent never was. Not even once. Neither was Steve. Both men wandered aimlessly through the house, or out in the gardens with no reason to be there, nor any reason to be anywhere else.
