Renegade Patriot

by Oscar Andrews

  “Nearly,” said Trent, “but not quite. You’re on lockdown. Actual lockdown. Your stunt with your tech friend forced me to recommend to the board that you remain in custody. That means Academy quarters where we can keep a close eye on you.”

  He was serious. There wasn’t a glimmer of warmth in his statement.

  “And who’s the muscle?” Neffy asked, nodding in the direction of the human door-stop.

  “Brad,” replied Trent, with a hint of satisfaction. “Brad is to be your new escort. He’s going to follow you if you so much as leave your apartment. He’s fully trained, so don’t start thinking you’re going to be able to give him the slip. He’s your new shadow.”

  Neffy sighed, dropping his zipped bag back down on the bed while contemplating his next move.

  “Is this where you tell me this is for my own safety? Like deactivating my holo?” he asked snidely.

  “You can think of it like that if it helps, but the reality is you made some bad decisions, Captain, and you’re going to have to live with the consequences. Even I can’t shield you from yourself forever.” Trent paused, and then added, “This was bound to happen at some point.”

  What does that even mean? Neffy wondered. It wasn’t like Trent was always getting him out of trouble, and when he did get in trouble it was usually because of Trent’s unorthodox experiments and off-the-book ops. Why was he making it sound like Neffy was the loose cannon?

  Trent continued, “I suggest you let Brad take you over to your new quarters and rest up. You have a psych evaluation tomorrow, and it will do you good to be as coherent as possible.”

  He picked up Neffy’s bag and handed it to Brad, who dutifully took it, and invited Neffy to step through the door before him. Neffy complied, noticing an exchange of glances between Trent and his mother. Did she know this was going to happen? he wondered. It wouldn’t surprise him. It wasn’t like she hadn’t betrayed him before.

  He stepped out into the hospital corridor. There was a general hub of activity. Nurses wheeling beds and wheelchairs with occupants. Doctors with holoscreens open, reviewing charts and test results as they whisked around, tending to patients and equipment.

  Neffy realized he still wasn’t at full strength. It was an effort just to walk. He grabbed hold of the handrail that ran the length of the corridor, and simultaneously Brad scooped his arm under his to help support him.

  “You okay?” he asked, seemingly concerned.

  “Yeah. Muscle wastage, I guess.” Their eyes met. Brad’s were bright blue. Surprisingly so. Neffy wondered if they had been enhanced, or perhaps if he’d had Federation military tech implanted in order to make him more of a super soldier. Anything was possible, he guessed. Especially if he’d been under Trent’s command.

  “Muscle wastage…don’t they have repair bots for that?” joked Brad. Neffy warmed to him a little. At least he wasn’t just a flat-faced gun jock.

  Brad helped him slowly down the corridor, stopping now and again for him to catch his breath. As they walked, he felt a little better. The long rest had still probably caused his systems to begin shutting down. He started visualizing how he wanted to feel and almost immediately his state improved.

  “So what do you think you are,” he asked Brad, “bodyguard or prison guard?”

  “Hmm. I think of myself as more of a babysitter,” he responded with a half-smile.

  “Just with assassin-like abilities…” Neffy jested.

  Brad grinned mischievously. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  He was humorous, and there was something about his easy charm that was very compelling. Particularly by contrast to Trent’s aloof distance.

  He needed to determine if this man was friend or foe, though, before he decided on anything else. After all, he was assigned by Trent – so right away there was a wildcard factor.

  Eventually, after a few more corridors and a couple of buildings, they arrived at Neffy’s new quarters. Brad tapped in the keycode, and helped him program up his fingerprint into the scanner so he wouldn’t have to keep keying it in. “In your condition, remembering a keycode would create added complications,” he explained.

  Neffy slumped against the wall, exhausted, and allowed Brad to take his hand to press his forefinger against the scanner in the process. It was reminiscent of Academy days when he’d had too much to drink and random classmates would take him back to his dorm room. He shook the memories from his head. Those days were gone. Long gone. And he didn’t remember them with pride.

  Opening the door to test if the new fingerprint was being accepted, Brad helped him stand upright again, and took him inside. It was small by Academy standards, but comfortable, and had everything he would need. The navy blue soft floorings and furniture made it feel cozy.

  Neffy staggered over to the large length of sofa, which framed two sides of the living space, and slumped down. He was more tired than he would have expected. Brad put his bag down on an armchair opposite, and busied himself with what Neffy could only assume was a sweep of the apartment. He couldn’t imagine an intruder would be waiting for him, but let him do his thing like a good tin soldier.

  “All clear,” he reported, almost out of habit, as he strode back into the main living space.

  “Good soldier,” Neffy teased, “Now, does this place have a decent replicator? I’m dying for a macca…”

  Brad swung around, remembering where he’d seen one.

  “Kitchen!” he said, reorienting himself towards the kitchen and pointing, as he headed off on his newly assigned quest. He’d been in here before, Neffy noted. The place was probably bugged.

  Minutes later he returned, only to find Neffy out for the count. He placed the warm mug of macca on the table next to him and stood for a moment, watching his charge.

  Deciding he was no longer needed here, he covered him over with the sofa throw, and headed out of the door. Neffy, barely conscious, tried to open an eye as he heard the door slide closed, but after the walk, the effort was just too great…

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Neffy woke to a repeated thumping sound. His dreaming brain initially interpreted it as the sound of his own fist beating on an airlock desperate to get back inside. It coincided with a painful thumping on the inside of his head.

  Confused by the upsetting image, it took him a moment to realize that someone was banging on the door to his quarters. He also quickly deduced that they weren’t going to give up and go away until he answered them.

  “Who is it?”

  His voice sounded weak, but that was only because his throat was dry. He must have slept for a long time. How long he had no way of knowing, but other than the lingering grogginess he felt truly rested.

  Trent’s voice from the other side of the door sounded slightly amused – but only slightly. “Your lord and master.”

  “Just a second.”

  He got his feet on the floor and stood up slowly, then noticed the cup of macca Brad had left for him who-knows-how-many hours ago. Cold macca is better than no macca. Trent can wait.

  He swallowed the macca in one long gulp, felt the energy surge through his system, and instantly regretted it. Cold macca gave him a sour stomach. As if he had dry-swallowed a handful of stimulant pills. Plus, the flavor of cold macca was simply horrible. He shuddered then rushed to open the door.

  Trent stood there looking at him, impressive as ever in his Peace Task Force uniform. Neffy was struck as always by a mix of emotions. Trent was here, and he was always happy to see Trent again.

  Or was he? The man had just placed him on lockdown and given him a babysitter after all. He decided he was more angry than happy. “Oh, it’s you,” he rasped, trying to make his point.

  Trent frowned. “Who else would it be?”

  Neffy stood aside, letting Trent enter the room but not exactly inviting him in. Trent swept right past, his body language suggesting that these were his own quarters and he had every right to be here. Neffy sighed.

  He couldn’t help but
be impressed by Trent’s total self-confidence no matter how irritating he sometimes found it. Trent always seemed to be in control of every situation, a quality Neffy had spent a lot of time trying to cultivate. Perhaps it just came naturally to him.

  Trent glanced at the empty cup of macca in Neffy’s hand and frowned again, as if the beverage was somehow to blame for it all. “We need to talk. You’re only getting yourself in more trouble with these pointless escapades.”

  He pulled up a few holoscreens and pointed at the letters and numbers they displayed. “Take a look at the timestamps. Someone has been accessing the classified servers and I have a good idea who that might be. Would you care to tell me yourself, or do you intend to make me say it?”

  Neffy looked at the screens, although he knew what they would tell him before he looked. Fred had been poking around for the holo footage as requested.

  “I wouldn’t want to make any more mistakes. You’d better tell me.”

  “Damn it, Neffy – you’re just too flippant. And too reckless by far. It’s different this time. It’s one thing to get yourself in trouble, or even your synthbot. But this could end Fred’s career, and possibly expose both of you to criminal charges. More criminal charges, I mean.”

  “I’m not saying Fred is the one who accessed those servers, but if he did he’s just trying to help. I needed to figure out what had happened to me and why, so I asked him if there was any way to get the holoscreen footage of me teleporting in here. That was before you told me about the implant in my brain. He’s not trying to steal military secrets or anything. Fred hasn’t done anything wrong and neither have I!”

  Trent took a step back to get a better look at Neffy’s face. He folded both hands behind his back like an officer inspecting a raw recruit.

  “This isn’t like you, Neffy. It’s not how I trained you. Trying to steal military secrets or not, it’s a big deal to access classified servers without the necessary clearances. The Neffy I trained would never have just casually admitted to such a major breach of regulations as if it didn’t even matter. You’ve always been a bit reckless, but you’ve never really defied me before. What’s going on?”

  “I just don’t like being accused of things I haven’t done. And I don’t like hearing my friends accused either.”

  Trent shook his head. “You must be overtired.”

  “I’m not tired at all. I slept from whenever Brad left me here until you woke me up a minute ago.”

  “You mean…you just drank cold macca? How’s your stomach?”

  Neffy grinned ruefully. “A little sour.”

  “I still think there’s something wrong with your thought processes. You must be hungry. Wait here for a few minutes and I’ll get us some food.”

  As soon as Trent walked out the door, Neffy found himself back in his days at the Academy, chopping peppers and onions for Trent’s famous stir-fry while the two of them talked about everything and nothing – his mentor’s dabbling with philosophy, the Protocols of Peace, social gossip about his fellow students. Trent cooking for him was one of his cherished memories, a moment when Neffy had felt like he had a father.

  Now it seemed that Trent wanted to feed him again. He couldn’t say no, although the truth was that the sudden changes in his life were making him feel like he didn’t have any solid ground to stand on.

  He knew the pieces his life was made of: Trent was aloof and manipulative, his mother was heartless, and Ally was his loyal best friend in a synth body. Now none of those of pieces seemed to fit in where they belonged. Trent was trying to take care of him, his mother was nearby, and Ally…what was the situation with Ally exactly?

  He just couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. The facts looked bad, but all they added up to was circumstantial evidence. There was no way to say for sure that Ally had been responsible for what happened, although her disappearance afterward did not look good.

  There had to be a reasonable explanation that didn’t involve his best friend attempting to murder him – didn’t there?

  Neffy brought up the e-DNA system and punched out a message.

  NEFFY: Ally, where are you? What happened with the airlock? Worried about you and want to help, but need to understand what’s going on here!

  He sent it out, knowing the message would be transmitted instantly. If Ally was in any position to read it and she didn’t reply, that would be hard to interpret as anything other than an admission of guilt.

  Neffy waited for his wrist to buzz until Trent came back, but no reply came in. Either Ally couldn’t access her messages for some reason, or she had tried to kill him. Neffy swallowed that thought when Trent knocked on the door. It made him sick to even think about it, but there was nothing he could do.

  When he opened the door, he was immediately struck by the smell of coconut milk, coriander, and chopped-up chili peppers.

  Trent held up a container looking proud of himself. “Thai green curry.”

  Neffy’s stomach grumbled. “Now that I think about it, I am hungry.”

  “Something told me you’d feel that way,” he muttered knowingly, making his way back into the apartment.

  Neffy stood aside, a little more welcoming this time. Curry was curry, after all – and Trent was Trent. Trent paused and looked at him, and Neffy thought he detected a hint of feeling behind that calculating exterior.

  His mentor smiled, though Neffy couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. Trent was still looking directly at him, holding the food with that look on his face. Was it perhaps nostalgia? Trent’s next words seemed to confirm the hypothesis. “Do you remember when we used to make stir fry together?”

  “Of course I remember.”

  Trent always knew what to say and when to say it. Which meant his choice to say it or not was always intentional. Which meant he could never really trust the emotion behind the words.

  Right now, he seemed genuine. “You see, Neffy? You’re not the only one who can be a little…sentimental. And you don’t have to worry that I’m gathering intel. I’ve had the holocams disabled. It’s as private in here as my own house.”

  Neffy wasn’t sure what to say to that. Thank you for not spying on me…anymore?

  He settled for something meaningless. “That’s nice.”

  “Hold on a moment, I’ll get some bowls.”

  Trent put the steaming containers of green curry and jasmine rice down on the macca table, and emptied his pockets as if to get more comfortable. Absentmindedly or otherwise, he took out his taser and put it down on the table with everything else.

  Trent smiled almost apologetically. “I can’t stand to eat with my pockets full. Makes me feel like I’m rushing out.”

  He turned around and went into the kitchen, and Neffy’s eyes went to the taser on the table. If he grabbed that taser, he could stun Trent from behind while he was reaching up into the cabinets to grab a bowl. Then he could arrange a ride to New Atlantia somehow, come up with some clever solution to the crisis with Drewdonia, convince everyone he’d been on the right track all along…

  Of course, he’d still have to account for why he’d tasered his boss and gone absent without leave. He hesitated for just a moment, and during that moment Trent came back in the room. “Red wine or white? I’m not sure which one pairs well with curry, to tell you the truth.”

  Instead of grabbing the taser and stunning his boss with it, Neffy suddenly stepped forward and threw his arms around him. Trent did the same, returning the hug – or had he actually opened his arms up first?

  Neffy wasn’t sure. “I missed you so much.”

  “That’s okay, Neffy. That’s okay.”

  Trent didn’t say anything about missing him back, but he didn’t have to. He hadn’t rejected the statement of emotion. That would do for now.

  “I’m honestly scared, Trent. I had good reasons for everything I did, but I’m just not sure they’ll see it that way.”

  “Don’t worry about that for now. I’ll do everything I can
to watch out for you. I always have. Just make sure not to do anything too crazy, okay?”

  Neffy stepped back from the hug, fighting the urge to burst out crying.

  “Thanks for getting the curry.”

  “Hey, it’s my pleasure. Now let’s eat.”

  +++

  A few hours later, the bowls of curry were empty and so were both containers and two small bottles of wine – one white and one red. Every scrap of rice had been consumed, and Trent’s eyes looked no more than half open. From his seat on the edge of the sofa, he tried to open them and didn’t succeed.

  “I ate too much. Eating like this makes me very sleepy.”

  “It always did. Remember how you would always take a nap after we ate your stir-fry, and I’d use the time to go through your amazing library?”

  “Trying to steal all my favorite books or so I assume. Yes, I remember. But there’s a time for sentiment and there’s a time for…sleep.”

  It didn’t seem likely that sleep was what he had meant to say. Something like “duty” or “the business at hand” was more likely. But it no longer mattered. Trent was fading off into oblivion.

  Neffy was nothing but understanding. “Go ahead and take a nap if you want. I don’t mind at all.”

  “But I don’t have any books here for you to…steal…”

  He never finished the sentence because his eyes were closed. Trent slumped over and half-fell against the sofa cushions, and Neffy looked closer to make sure that it was not a trick. It looked legitimate. Moving slowly and carefully, Neffy raised Trent’s right hand and used his mentor’s thumb to flick open Trent’s e-DNA holo. He sent a message, then took the few minutes needed to erase all record that he had ever done so, careful not to wake Trent up in the process.

  He looked again and confirmed that his old teacher was deeply asleep.

  “Sorry, Trent. But it’s like you said. There’s a time for sentiment, and there’s a time for other things.”