“Nor was I, so far as I know,” I admit, shrugging. Oh well. the world got me. my mum got me. doesn’t she regret that night of passion? I think she does. A living, loquacious reminder of her poor decision-making skills.
“Do wish your dad was about?” he asks.
“Not really, I don’t care so much,” I say.
“Do you ever want kids?” he asks, cocking his head and eating another crisp.
“Yes,” I say, surprised at how quickly and adamantly I respond, “I’m sick of being alone. and I think my offspring would have to be a bit like me. and I’ll settle for just a bit.”
“Then why don’t you think of what you wish your dad would do? If you want to be somebody’s dad someday, then shouldn’t you be thinking now about what you’d like done for you, so you remember what it was like to be a kid?” he asks.
“I didn’t think of it like that,” I say. I truly hadn’t thought very much of what I would do. I had known for a long time I wanted a friend. Somebody like me. just likes me my own mind. we would have such fun, somebody to play my game with me. “I’d be there, just---that was as far as I got, be there. that’s more than our dads did.”
“Yeah, a hell of a lot more,” he says, nodding, “That’s all Harris is trying to do, poor fellow. I didn’t want to sign up for that Project 10, thing. Didn’t want my kids left on the ground all the time, not without their mum or somebody to come home to.”
“I will,” I say, “Once they find a match for me. I will, I don’t care I think they’ll be fine in the Academy, I’ll come home, and tell them all about the stars.”
“That sounds nice,” Kip says, offering me another crisp, which I accept. I realize I’ve thought about it more than I thought. Once again, I underestimate my own brainpower.
“Was this what you were drunk on last night?” Wilde asks as I pour her a glass of the good stuff. Grain whiskey, that’s hard to get on base I’ll have you know.
“Probably this,” I say, doing a shot.
“Hawking’s worried about you,” she says, tossing her back as well.
“Yeah, well, so am I,” I say, sitting down, holding the bottle, “She sends you to have this little tete-a-tete with me?”
“What’s that mean?” she asks, amused.
“See, Card isn’t the only one who can use big words,” I say, amused. “It means to chat.” I got that big word from Card, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“He does use big words, doesn’t he? But that isn’t why you’re afraid of him,” she asks, as I pour us another.
“No, no it’s not,” I say.
“Do you have any idea what you were saying last night?” she asks before we both down the shots.
“Yeah, pretty good, the thing is, I still think it. I don’t know why. It’s not just when I’m drunk either that---that makes it more bearable, but no, it’s when I’m sober as well----I just see it,” I say, staring off.
“See what?” she asks.
“The end of time? I don’t know. it’s been ever since the first time I looked in his eyes, I don’t pretend to understand it,” I say, “So I don’t expect you to.”
“You realize you’re talking gibberish? Even if Card is a bit of a trouble maker---well you got him out of trouble earlier,” she says, “Why did you do that?”
“Because we seriously don’t need to antagonize this person,” I say, desperately, “Humor me, for a minute, will you, assuming that he could just possibly be---”
“The antichrist?”
“I was very, very intoxicated---okay, yeah, the antichrist---should we really, seriously, be grinding him into the dirt like we tend to do? Or should we just let him sort of slide on through, and not make him want to annihilate all of us?” I ask, desperately.
“That’s the question should we be grinding any of them into the dirt like we tend to do?” she asks, “What’s it matter? Just because this one is a bit smarter than the others, a bit more of a rebel?”
“No, no we shouldn’t, we shouldn’t---and it matters because this is what matters this is----it’s our last chance. Maybe not maybe we missed our last chance, ages and ages ago,” I say, “And he’s the retribution humanity was sent? I don’t know, but he’s here now, so can we at least try to beg his mercy?”
“You’re talking about him like he’s some god,” she says, incredulously, probably calculating how much I’ve drunk.
“No, like he’s a sign. Right here, in front of us---don’t tell me you don’t see it---you know it’s true---he’s not like the others---he could be our salvation if he wanted to be. and I have a feeling, a terrible feeling, he doesn’t want to be,” I say, my voice cracking.
“You’re shaking, James,” Wilde takes my hands, “Look at me.”
“He’s going to kill me,” I whisper.
“No, no he’s not,” she says.
“It’s all right, he is, I already know he is,” I say.
“You need to stop drinking,” she says.
“Okay,” I say, wiping my face on my sleeve, “Okay.”
“Not just like, tonight. like, forever,” she says, “Never, okay this isn’t good, whatever’s going on with you, it isn’t good. you can’t be thinking about things like this.”
“But I’m not wrong,” I say, “The drink doesn’t change that.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t help, come here,” she says, wiping my face, I realize I’m crying.
“I’m afraid,” I say, “I don’t want to be afraid to die, why am I afraid to die?”
“Shhh,” she hugs me, as I cry into her chest like a baby, “Shh, it’s all right.”
“No, no it’s really not.”
Chapter 13
I am almost asleep when my tablet goes off. I frown. Nobody should be writing to me. Peter left already for his night duties. Thank god I don’t have them tonight, I’m far too tired.
I look, it’s a message from Quentin. He’s asleep in his bunk, it seems the MTIs forgot to take him and Tyrell and Liesel the brig. Titus, of course, is already gone doing detention duties.
I open the message.
Please know that I would rather die than stop loving you. You cannot know the depths of my love, but I shall seek to tell you. To hear you speak is pure ecstasy to look upon you is a far greater pleasure than to watch the rising sun. You are beauty, you are elegance. You are my Kinnock. I adore you. You are a bellibone, a goddess, the one and only thing I’ll ever dream of. Say you’ll be mine. Even if you don’t I still love you forever. Please kiss me.
“Looks like somebody’s got a secret admirer,” Kip says.
“Who?” I ask, turning from the video feed I’ve been watching. I was scrolling through, trying to figure out why they hadn’t taken me for detention yet. It turns out Thorn and Wilde are up talking and it looks like drinking, they were supposed to be doing the collecting of me. Blast. Ebbel is going to do his rounds in a minute, and I’ll have missed him, again. another night in the brig for nothing.
“Nicole Tom, that tall boy Leavitt likes it her seems,” Kip says, rolling his chair a little so I can look.
“Oh, I wrote that,” I say.
He turns and looks at me, “Okay I’m gonna regret asking this---why?”
“So she’ll fall in love with him,” I say.
“Why?” He asks.
“Because, I love her with all my heart and soul and he’s a good man and I think she’d like him,” I say.
“If you love her----why don’t you write her your love notes?” he asks, obfuscated.
“Because-----because I’m not---right for her,” I say. there’s something wrong with me. like I tried to tell Hilda. There’s something wrong with me. “I love her too much, I can’t inflict myself upon her. I want better for her, better than me. I’m far too prolix too ungovernable too sesquipedalian too dispassionate too argute. She doesn’t deserve a bindlestiff like me, I’m nobody, she deserves someone charming and beautiful—and normal.”
“Okay, so I didn’t understan
d half those words you used, but what I’m hearing is you don’t think you’re good enough for her,” Kip says, slowly, eating a crisp.
“Yes, to put it epigrammatically,” I say, nodding.
“I don’t care how many bloody big words you use, you’re an idiot,” he says.
“What?” I ask, annoyed.
“If you love her, man, go after her! Woo her yourself, let her be the judge of who is good enough for her or no. if you credit her enough to love her, then you’ll credit her with the taste to choose the man or woman she wants,” he says.
“Works for me,” I say, nodding.
“But you don’t believe me,” he says.
“No, but that’s enough justification for me to pursue her love for the rest of my natural life, thank you, Kip,” I say, extending my hand to shake his.
“If you didn’t just look really creepy when you said that I’d feel better about this,” Kip says.
So he does really love me. I don’t want to be affected as strongly as I am, but I can’t help it. his eyes burn into my soul even as I know that he’s probably asleep by now and not even thinking of me. to be loved is something I am grossly unaccustomed to, but I feel I could get used to if given the time. it’s lovely to think that in the middle of the night if you whisper a name or call out, somebody will be there. somebody will hug you if you start to cry. somebody is happy you’re in the world. I’ve never had that before. I stroke the words on the tablet, memorizing them, reading them a hundred times, hundred and fifty probably.
What makes it so odd is, it’s even sweeter that he sent it from another. Why, I don’t know, probably something stupid that a man would think, like that he’s not good enough for me, or that I deserve better or something. but I know that the message, and more than that, the love behind the message, is from Titus Card’s heart. I love it more for his deception, and what is so endearing is, the truth is cemented in the lie. He could only love me deeply if he wanted me to have the chance for another. And he does. Somehow I know the words are real, even as the pretense is false.
And I love him too.
“What do the two of you think you are doing?”
“Drinking??”
“You’re supposed to have collected the flight leaders and taken them to the brig hours ago!” Ebbel is about to blow an artery. I’m really okay with that.
“Nobody told us that,” I say, “What’ve you put them in there for anyway?”
“Putting the guidon the roof!?” Ebbel says, annoyed.
“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” Thorn says, wiping his eyes and trying to look like he hasn’t been crying. “But then I pardoned Card.”
“And I sentenced him again because that nitwit broke back into IDMT to break one of his silly friends out,” Ebbel growls.
“I thought you were collecting them,” I say, standing up and putting on my blouse, “We’ve both been drinking so we can’t anyway.”
“No, I was checking on them like I always do,” Ebbel growls.
“Yeah, I honestly can’t stand,” Thorn says, trying to stand and sitting back down, “I vote I stay here---wait Card got back in the brig? Wonder why he wants to be in there.”
“What do mean?” Ebbel asks, “He doesn’t want to be.”
“Oh, mark my words, Titus Card is never anywhere that he doesn’t want to be,” Thorn predicts.
“It’s a thing, go with it,” I hiss, to Ebbel, because I’ve just talked Thorne around to near sanity.
“Fine, the two of you just---do---whatever---I’ll collect them myself,” Ebbel says, banging the door.
“They’ll be asleep by now, I hope he doesn’t throw the one with the head injury in there,” I say, wincing.
“I thought it was a stupid idea anyway, just mucking with the guiding and we don’t even know who did,” Thorn says.
“Yeah, oh well,” I say, shrugging, “Probably was one of them, though.”
“Undoubtedly,” Thorne says, “Whenever there’s trouble, a cadet is usually to blame.”
“I’ve changed my mind, there are four of them I’m not doing them all by myself---Thorn, go and get at least one of them and I won’t report how drunk you were when you showed up the other night,” Ebbel says, opening the door at the beginning of the speech and shutting it at the end.
“How drunk was I?” Thorn whispers.
“Very, come on old man,” I say, looping his arm over my shoulder, “Best you walk it off anyway.”
“What do the two of you think you are doing?”
“Eating crisps?”
“Get up, both of you, Kip you’re supposed to be having him work for you not feeding him!?” Harris is understandably annoyed. Ebbel just woke him up to tell him he needed to come and a collect me, which appeared to send Harris into a state of shock, because he was expecting the world to collapse because he contacted Liesel and he thinks somebody who cares will find out. his wanweird will come at a later date, however, the only people who know are Kip and I, and Kip does not care and I shall do nothing until it suits me otherwise.
“Nobody told me that,” Kip says, innocently.
“Card----get your feet off that desk-----and quit looking over your shoulder when I talk to you, damn it? Do you think I want to be up this late either, the answer is no---now come on,” Harris growls, with enough force to compel me to obey.
“Night, Card,” Kip says, a little sadly. I toss him a playful salute, which makes him smile. Harris glares at me because even though it is never wrong to salute a superior when that superior is only one rank above you eating crisps at a desk and certainly isn’t commissioned, it’s getting pretty close to wrong.
“Good Evening, sir,” I say, sweetly, as I follow Harris out the door. I’m annoyed he was the one to come and collect me. I wanted it to be Thorn, he’ll be drunk this late and rather thelmic.
“Hurry it up, Card,” Harris barks. And here I thought his mulligrubs would have been soothed after his talk with Liesel. But it seems Ebbel put him on edge, that is no good. He was one of the more tolerable ones. I certainly hope his manner improves otherwise I may murder him after Ebbel. If I can ever get around to murdering Ebbel.
I fall back asleep quickly, holding my tablet with a smile on my face. so he does really love me. I wish that moron were here so I could wake him with a kiss. Then, of course, sneak back to my bed while he sat they’re dazed and confused wondering how I’d seen through his inane little attempt to set me up with Quentin or test my love or whatever stupid testosterone-fueled plan he’d come up with. After I’d kissed him when he wasn’t expecting it, I will have to tell him that when forging messages from other people, he needs to use smaller words. Nobody with half a brain would think that anybody but Titus wrote that.
I curl up in bed, stifling my tears into my pillow so Nicole doesn’t hear them. I got up to use the latrine, and on the way back I saw her looking at her tablet. It was a message from Quentin, a love note. I sniffle. He’s so tall and handsome and stupid and kind and talks so slowly and his eyes and---don’t. he doesn’t love you. he loves her. and who wouldn’t? She’s taller than I am and prettier, her face is meant to have the short hair her features are so sharp, so pretty. She doesn’t have acne or weird scars from falling down or a hard to pronounce the name. I don’t want to cry but I do. it isn’t fair. Why don’t handsome boys love ugly girls too? I don’t want him to be perfect, he’s probably terrible at his emotions and bad at spelling and never says enough when he should. But he’s so quiet. and sweet. And gentle. And I want those big hands to cup my face and touch my terribly short hair. But they won’t. because he loves her.
“Wake up.” I smell the pungent odor of whiskey. I jerk away, my mouth instantly burning for the stuff. Why the hell do the MTIs get to come around smelling of alcohol, don’t they realize training his hard enough for alcoholics without frequent reminders of what we’re missing? No, nobody realizes. Possibly because we’re not the legal drinking age for two more years. Whatever. I know for a fact half the
kids at University drink.
“Good evening, sir,” I mumbled, sitting up and hitting my head on the ceiling.
“I’m to take you to the brig,” he says, it’s Thorn, the one who was drunk the other night?
“Yes, sir,” I say, picking up my shoes from the foot of the bed.
“Shh, do I look like I want to do this anymore than you do? Keep your voice down,” he says, rubbing his sweaty face with a hand.
“Yes, sir,” I say, cocking my head. we aren’t the only ones awake. I can hear a distinct sniffling and sobbing sound, coming from a few bunks down. there’s also a bit of wriggling going on. It looks like the bunk underneath Tom, Tsegi the girl’s name was, wasn’t it? She was pretty, I hoped she hadn’t got bad news from home or anything, she seemed like a decent sort. And if I weren’t getting bashed in the head by oxygen tanks, drugged by psychotic doctors, and climbing buildings to get flags down, I might have ruminated more on how sweet she looked. But as things were I really didn’t have the time.
“Come here---take my arm don’t need you hitting your head, again,” Thorne says, as my foot slips on the bunk getting down.
“Thank you, sir,” I say, as he helps me down. I’m taller than him now, standing. my head hurts from the bash earlier and now from hitting the ceiling.
“Come on---here take a blanket it’s freezing in there,” he says, pulling my blanket form my bunk and offering it to me.
“Sir, I was not aware they were allowed,” I am completely positive they aren’t allowed I’ve read the bloody rule book fifty-eight million times.
“Do I look----do I honestly look----like I give a damn?” he asks, swaying a little as he stands.
“Ah---” I don’t know how to say this well.
“Honestly now,” he says.
“No, sir,” I say.
“All right take the god damn blanket,” he says.
It’s dreadfully cold in the brig. So far I have counted two slams of the door. So two of the four flight leaders are here. I am free to do as I like because I’ve already reprogrammed the cameras so that they are not on us. Just as soon as all four of us are in here, Ebbel will come and check, and when he leaves, I shall kill him. simple, easy, done, a nice way to make up for last night. My nudiusturian plan shall soon be in effect, and I’ll have a lovely game to play, lots to keep me occupied, and will have completed my second murder. I’m really looking forward to it.
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