Threads of Canor: Sector Bomb

by Simon Woodington

  Chapter Nine: Pretty Stiff

  Sonata was functional by the time we arrived. The wound was reactionary in nature, and not at all logical. He had stabbed her in the chest. “Another suit ruined...” she sighed. “Laston's a waster. Scanning me the whole time he goes for the heart. He's never killed before.”

  Aaran agreed. “Next time he fends off an android assassin he'll be sure to get it right. How are you?”

  “Any closer to my hardlines and I wouldn't have recovered without intervention,” she said. Aaran was expectant. Sonata twigged. “Oh, I'll be fine. Self-repairs are adequate for now.”

  “Just so we're not taking any chances, you're watching our flank.”

  “Yes ma'am ... and, Laston?”

  “Almost aced himself running around with a stuck lung. Pity, really. Talon medics have him now. He pulls through he'll be ... fortunate.”

  “Oh.”

  [Mishan? What's the story with Ayani?] Aaran has a habit of relaying any transmission she feels I should “hear” as if I were in the same room.

  Mishan answered after a delay. [She has been ordered to back down. She's waiting on news about Laston, just as you are.]

  [Good. Get Madrid and Morones off Talon. Pronto.]

  [Lockdown is still official and I have work to do in the interim.]

  [Stay in touch.] “C'mon. Let's find ourselves a bite and some fresh clothes.”

  [As you say, Milady.]

  Aaran made a call to Talon HQ and arrangements to access some defunct vending equipment nearby the food court where the skirmish between Sonata and Laston had taken place. It would take ten minutes for their activation, so she made gradual work of a protein bar and a cold drink while we re-arranged some seating. Sonata and Laston had displaced some of the furniture in their struggle.

  “You struggled? I thought it was one-two-Sonata-falls-over scenario,” Aaran observed at length. “You're the trained assassin.”

  “It would've been easier to put my fist through his brain,” was all she said. Oddly curt.

  Aaran sat down and studied her, gulping her drink. “He didn't get in your head?”

  Sonata had her hands in her hair, checking for tangles. It was long now and flowed in two pigtails, jade green with white highlights. “No he didn't get in my head. I'm angry about not killing him.”

  “This about ethics? He got away from you, even if we stopped him. What did you decide?”

  “I don't... I was going to detain him.”

  Aaran reached toward her face and touched one of the trails running down her cheeks. She turned the finger, moisture glistening, and Sonata gave a little gasp. “You cry, huh? That's not anger, cottontail.”

  Aaran wouldn't say anything after that, even after she stopped eating. It was serious. I had never seen my sister so affected by death. Eventually, Sonata said: “I should go back.”

  “I can't send you.”

  Sonata bowed her head. “Why not?”

  “You should go back, but I can't send you alone. Not now. You're safest with us.”

  “What now?” As if in answer several shops lit up around us invitingly. Aaran poked my chest through the broad slash in my jacket and shirt. “That was fast. Battleworn doesn't cut it,” she grinned. “Sonata, come help me find something tasteful for him to wear. Buddy, stay here and keep watch for lurkers. Can't have some scrand thieving on our watch.”

  “Yes ma'am.” Was I relying too much on Sonata? Was any of her reaction to this my responsibility? Vetting my thoughts and actions was due diligence, but I could find no direct fault. Perhaps I needed to expand my understanding of her experiences so I could be of greater assistance.

  Aaran had by her desire to see Laston killed in this operation caused conflict in mission operations. Neglecting my knowledge of target parameters could have been accidental. She is typified by her recklessness in spite of a proven performance record. Her status as an informal agent for the Crown was a choice, she had full command authority of the KnightsMage.

  I do hope I have made that point clear.

  Laston could have turned Talon into so much space dust, so the question was, why not? Just that moment they returned, and while Sonata looked calmer, she also looked pensive and avoided eye contact when I attempted to ascertain her status. She would not respond to private transmissions, so I put them off for a time until she was ready. I had to speak to her, but was not sure what to say.

  [What do I do, Aaran? Is she hurt?]

  [She's battle fatigued.] Aaran felt strongly for her, but had prior experience to temper her reactions. Her lips were drawn, considering Sonata’s mannerisms carefully.

  [That does not answer my question.]

  She half-smiled sympathetically. [For now just protect her. She might not be ready to fight again. She's shaken up pretty badly. I don't know how it will impact her performance.]

  [I will do that. Thank you.]

  [Hey. I'm sure you're stewin' over why we're not dead right now. Janus reported Laston was a dolt. A genius shut-in with monumental emotional issues. He hates the Crown but can't get his act together to blame anyone specific about it.]

  [Does that also mean no one offended him? Sonata did not mention that in her profile.]

  [Yeah it does. Nice insight. He tampered with his profile, but we have backups. That's all evidence of his slackluster attitude … it's that old thing where the perpetrator wants to be caught. We'll have a chance to grill him about it soon.]

  [You think so?]

  She shrugged. [He dies, he dies. I don't think he will. Just a feeling.]

  [I see.]

  [You have that glyph decoded?] she prompted.

  [It will take a while longer. Crown grade encryption is resource intensive.]

  [Fine. Take a bead on your sister. I think I found something digestible here.] Aaran left a black, crew-necked synthetic shirt and padded shooting jacket for me. Many of Sector 9's major networks were being reactivated, she advised me, muttering curses about Representative Castlegar's mess of a mission.

  Sonata had moved into a fashion shop alcove with benches and mirrors. She did not seem to notice my arrival, but had changed her ruined shirt and adopted a light-woven big sleeved, short cut jacket. I pinched the white fabric and sat down beside her, commenting on its appeal. While pulling off my cut shirt, Sonata pressed a hand to my knee. I looked at her.

  “Sorry, brother.” Tears streamed down her face again.

  “You're hurt.” She shook her head. I sat down and worked my arms into the fresh article of clothing. “What are you thinking of?”

  “I’m a failure. My plan was flawless.” She wiped her face with her sleeve and sniffed. “I feel like a fool and an idiot.”

  “You changed into very playful clothes. You don't want to be an assassin?”

  “I want to be an assassin. It feels right I can do things others can't.”

  Other women, she meant, but I didn't have to repeat that back to her. “Professionals accept what happens,” I advised her. “No plan is flawless.”

  “I simulated all of his reactions ... by no simulation I performed could he have caused me harm.”

  “What framework did you apply? Canora are rarely so predictable.”

  “I was not compromised. Mishan gave me everything I needed … Why did I fail?” She grabbed my jacket shoulder with both hands, light eyes frightened. “My method should not have failed, but it did!”

  “Sonata... You cannot change the facts.” To this, she slowly nodded. I laid a palm on her shoulder for reassurance. “Tell me about your feeling a 'fool and an idiot'?”

  She let go. “You felt that way.”

  “What way?”

  “Like you couldn't … control everything. How would you say it? It was in your glyph from the attack on Sector 9.”

  “I'm not certain. Perhaps it's a design flaw, or perhaps Father planned it this way.”

  “Is that disdain?” It was Aaran. Sonata looked horribly guilty. She joined us in the change room and p
lunked down on the bench to my left. “Hey look, it happens. Even if the parent doesn't deserve it. Anger and hatred are going to happen. Aaran's Law of parenting.”

  I searched Aaran's body language. Her breathing was regular, muscular tension at an all-day low. Her face told me she could fall asleep at any instant.

  “Is that so?” I ejected. Awkwardly.

  “I know something about it. Kids are never easy. They're people, even if we just want 'em to be innocent and dependent. I guess you never met Cherice. She's the red weaver of the clan. Literally.”

  Sonata gave a little gasp. “They break rules. All of the rules.”

  “Funny, I know. It's not specific, like she stepped on my toes. She's just swearing oaths against the Gods. She's not even impolite. Not to me, anyway.”

  “But you once...”

  Aaran's face hardened. “When we talked. We don't. She's on Razor. If Ayani meets her, I'm not sure what she'll do.”

  That brought us to the matter at hand. “What about our mission?”

  “I got word Marlene’s been injured, so they’re shipping her to the field hospital.”

  “Mama...” Sonata sighed with a hint of worry.

  “Minor concussion. Not safe to ship her planetside. No safer than here anyway...” She shrugged. “It’s good news they got the civilians off Razor.”

  “It is. When and how?”

  Aaran eyed me. “Network’s still no good, huh? Bad habit, lazily waiting for you to follow behind me that way. Seems we were right. Horash submitted his resignation to the Crown and is officially Katsu’s advisor.”

  She was bitter, but decided. She stood and said, standing at the doorward: “Our problem now is Laston. He's left eight bombs around this crate ready to blow who knows when. Our best information is useless. We've got to go and see if he's still breathing. Good news is we don’t have to sweat political tension. I'm having a warm meal now. Time to pull it together.”

  “Aaran. Did I make the wrong choice...? Should I have terminated him?” Sonata's voice trailed off, and I was concerned it was in defeat. “Did I fail?”

  Aaran huffed then laughed with a suggestion of nostalgia. “I can't decide that, but I do know you can't predict everything. Who knew he was carrying an activated shard? No. You did your job. Let it go.”

  Sonata began to weep, pressing her shoulders against the wall and covering her face. Aaran departed without another word. A few minutes later, Sonata ceased crying and was pulling on my arm to move. She seemed greatly relieved.

  Time can be an indistinct quantity when you fail to track it constantly. Aaran's repast of mashed potato, sliced and spiced meat was mostly consumed when we joined her. She sipped at the colorless drink and said, “Crown knows these things never come out hot. Feeling better, Sonata?”

  She nodded. “I can do what I need to now.”

  “Good. You're my right arm. Buddy, Laston's a new benchmark. Someone supplied him with a crysolen. We don't know who still has that capability. Not yet.”

  “You don't,” I pressed. She negated, chewing. “Snackard could be of no use to us?”

  I watched her swallow, then meet my gaze. “Avalon's a trickster. His Pillar is full of mysteries. Remember what he said.”

  “Snackard? He was highly obscure.” [You don't believe the answer may be in Riens' glyph?]

  [We're scrapped if it's not. You don't know Mishan like I do, and you should.] “Yeah. Too vague for me right now...” she let her fork and knife clatter on the plate before standing to scoop the whole arrangement into a recycle bin. “Ain' Yale's, but it'll do. Guy knows how to roast protein. I'm gonna kick Reggie in the head when we get back. Beating me over the head with that 'I paid for your medical' scruff.”

  “Was she not sincere?” Sonata wondered.

  “Sure. Sincere as someone who has your every debt in pocket. 'Nough of that. That's probably Bowles.” Our cruiser was less than twenty feet away, pulling up on the main stretch of walkway. Why would she be driving it? “Ayani's a brat. Bowles asked to drive for us. Cute ain' it? I think she's got a crush on you, Buddy.”

  She chuckled as I floundered for something to say. I could find nothing. Thankfully, the cruiser arrived, and with it the source of my new discomfort.