by Scott Rhine
Mr. Rogers, there to represent the mils, snorted.
“Relax, Ted,” Daniel said. “From what I understand, Red didn’t actually break any rules.”
“Other than shooting a celebrity here on scholarship.”
“I watched Out of Body. The Mori girl was another unregistered active sneaking up on her. Red probably thought it was Professor Horvath.”
“Unregistered?” demanded Rogers. “You didn’t mention this before?”
“I didn’t think it was relevant. Her mother was a Fortune bodyguard with Collective Unconscious and Simplification talents applied to martial arts. She turned nymphomaniac and slept her way through half the London office. Elias changed her call sign to Bermuda Triangle.”
The former Seal guessed, “People disappeared after she slept with them?”
“Figuratively speaking,” Professor Sorenson explained. “She infected men with her pages about one time in ten and made a few into multiples. The multiples had trouble staying balanced; we lost a few. Even so, Elias didn’t cashier her until she got pregnant. She went to work for a Japanese billionaire who appreciated her unique combination of talents. The child inherited her mother’s pages, which explains why Miss Mori is so good with voice sculpting.”
“And the forbidden fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree,” said the dean. “In spite of repeated warnings, our best Quantum Computer last year washed out after sleeping with her.”
“Navel staring?” asked Rogers.
“We could cure him of that,” said Daniel. “Unfortunately, he reached three talents, exceeding the UN limit. That’s when we forced her to get a biohazard tattoo like mine. Of course, the moment she got one, it became fashionable.”
“Back to the problem at hand, please. They’re going to kill each other, and I’ll be blamed,” moaned the dean. “How do we punish Miss Benson? She has to learn her place.”
“Her landing on another island was unauthorized,” the former Seal noted. “We can clip her wings for a month. She’ll feel that.”
Daniel nodded.
“But how do we let everyone else know she’s in a world of shit?” asked the dean. “More importantly, how do I appease Horvath?”
“You sound more afraid of her than the terrorists,” noted the Seal.
Without shame, the dean said, “Yes! She’s KGB trained and packs a mean grudge.”
Daniel said, “All three of them feel like their chests were attacked by a swarm of angry bees. They’re packing ice on her now for the bruising.”
“You watched?” asked Rogers, interested.
“I had to make sure no one got killed. Mori can be dangerous too. It didn’t help that Red practically peed herself laughing.”
Zeiss cleared his throat. “I still have two demerits that I haven’t assigned disciplinary action to.”
The other men in the room seemed to notice him for the first time. The former Seal removed an unlit cigar and snapped, “And?”
“Those can be commuted to other instructors,” said the TA.
Daniel smiled and said, “You are positively evil.”
Rogers laughed. “Looks like Grunt-Monkey’s a free man. We have a new whipping girl.”
“What’s his real name, anyway?” asked the dean.
Daniel shook his head. “I’m not sure even he remembers anymore.”
Chapter 11 – Food for Thought
Sunday night, after the normal dinner club meeting, Red was putting back half an uneaten tub of ice cream. “Auckland eats like a bird—twice his weight in a day.”
“He’s completed his sciences, and now he’s taking the physical stuff and survival,” Risa explained from the bedroom. “You burn a lot of calories in this heat and you have to replace them.”
“Now that you mention it, he did say my food was much better than the bugs he ate last week.”
“Praise like that’ll turn a girl’s head,” the Latina said, putting on her nightgown. “Why didn’t you invite Toby, too?”
“His security clearance is taking longer than I thought because he moved around so much. Besides, our room’s too small for all these people. We need a bigger place.”
“To reserve any of the public places, you need to organize as a club and register with the dean. There’s some other rules, like having a charter, officers, and a faculty adviser. I was thinking of starting a solar-powered boating club, but I don’t have as much free time as I thought I would.”
“You and me both, honey,” Red said with an affected accent.
As Red rearranged the freezer, she counted. Supplies were disappearing a little faster than expected. Breakfast went on the top and desserts went on the bottom, so she dug down. There was an unfamiliar container inside, a cheap, bulk barrel of ice cream. “Sonrisa!” she said the way a little girl called for her mother in a thunderstorm.
“What’s wrong?” asked the Latina, rushing in. Red pointed to the ice cream like a snake. “Oh, yeah. Herk felt guilty eating all ours, so he bought a couple containers to pay you back. Don’t worry; I didn’t tell him the combination.”
The young heiress didn’t lecture her roommate about trust or contamination. “With the space they take up, I miscounted my meals by a week. I never would’ve offered to feed everyone if I knew . . . I have less than two weeks’ food supply left.”
“Easy, chica, you can buy more.”
“But I can’t pick it up. I’ve been grounded,” Red said, close to hysteria. “It takes almost three weeks to cook and ship them.”
“Get a waiver or learn to like peanut butter and noodles.”
At nearly ten o’clock, Red ran across the lawn to pod one and pounded on Zeiss’s door. Tired, he shouted, “Read the sign. This means you!”
“It can’t wait till tomorrow!” she yelled back.
He opened the door, wearing plaid pajama bottoms. “You really have no boundaries.”
“They grounded me. I can’t fly to pick up supplies for a whole month.”
He rolled his eyes. “Maybe that’ll keep you out of trouble. One more incident in the probation period and you’re suspended.”
“You don’t understand,” she hissed. “I have under two weeks of food left in my freezer, and it takes almost three to order more through proper channels here in BFE.”
“In my office,” the TA said, aware that she was genuinely distressed.
When the door was pulled shut, he said, “Security recording: on. You have one minute. Why is this an emergency?”
“Because people have been trying to poison me since I was six. That’s why I have a locked evidence freezer. I can’t trust anything I didn’t open unless the person has a board-level security clearance.” Her hair was a mess and the baggy clothes were rumpled. However, her innocent blue eyes still dominated her face.
Zeiss muttered, “The Chinese have a saying: if you save a person’s life, you’re responsible for them from then on.”
“What?”
“I’ll think of something by our regular meeting tomorrow,” he promised, opening the door again. “Good night.”
“I can’t sleep worrying about this.”
“Two weeks from now is the least of your problems.”
“What do you mean?”
“They didn’t tell you?”
The girl looked both ways. “My appointment with the dean is 0800 tomorrow. What didn’t they tell me?”
He wiped his face. “The bloody cowards.”
“Tell me. What’s more horrible than starving to death on an island, surrounded by people who hate me?”
Zeiss looked at her. He knew he should spit it out, but it would be like kicking a kitten. “Go home and read your duty log.”
As soon as she left his pod, the TA checked his pad out of curiosity. Had the dean posted the punishment? Yes, at 1700, the document had been updated . . . with Conrad Zeiss as the issuing agent. Grabbing his pillow and comforter, he ran to the faculty gym.
The guard at the door said, “We’re closed, sir.”
�
��I just sent Red Benson home to read who she’s doing her service hours with for the rest of the semester. I can’t go back to my office.”
The guard chuckled, pointing to his own chest. “Red, isn’t she the one who lit up Horvath’s front porch?”
“She’s the new Grunt-Monkey,” Zeiss said, trying a lame smile.
“Come on in, sir. I never saw you.”
****
Daniel found Zeiss in the men’s locker room the next morning and laughed at his pajamas. The professor said, “Good call, though. During the night, your pod door and window were smeared with blue paint grenades. Security was called out by the other TAs, but they didn’t catch the culprits.”
“She’ll see reason,” Zeiss said softly. “Eventually. How’d you find me?”
“Well, I couldn’t see you anywhere on the island. Since there are only three places I can’t look into, I figured you were either hiding in here, or you jumped ship in a rowboat.”
“You weren’t worried she’d dump my body in the ocean?”
“Nah, when Red offs somebody, she tells me why they deserved it.”
“Not funny,” Zeiss said, wiping his face. “Wait. Why a locker room? So spies can’t watch you get undressed?”
“OOB students—the first place they head.”
“Men’s locker room, women’s locker room . . . and your bedroom?”
Daniel smiled. “You never cease to amaze me. My whole pod, really. We don’t confine our activities to just the bedroom.”
Zeiss held up a hand. “I don’t want any other pictures of your bony ass seared into my brain. How do you shield? Is it lined with lead like for Superman’s vision?”
Daniel tossed him a gel stress ball. “It’s a suspension of a compound similar to mu-shield.”
“The stuff physicists use for electromagnetic shielding?”
“Yup. Only took ten years to develop.”
The TA marveled at the sparkling green ball. “Why do you carry this with you?”
“Emergencies. It also blunts certain other mental attacks if you hold it to your temples. I’m thinking you need it more than I do right now. Although, maybe you should put it in your front pocket.”
“Thanks,” Zeiss said sarcastically.
“Let me take you to breakfast at the restaurant, my treat.”
“No workout?”
“I can afford to skip a day to celebrate.”
Outside the front door of the dining hall, Zeiss said, “I hear that you burn through a lot of assistants. The first time someone screws up, you send them off to a dream job somewhere else.”
“Who? Oh, Miss Benson was feeling spiteful,” Daniel deduced. “You’re only the fourth person to qualify: Jez, my wife, and Desmond—a man who took several bullets for me ten years ago.”
“Oh. Then I’m honored . . . I think.”
While eating, Zeiss said, “Wow, it must be a result of being a hunted man, but this quiche is better than normal, even for the restaurant.”
Daniel nodded. “François was my personal chef for years. He still cooks special treats for me.” Even though the handicapped table was one of the most secluded in the place, the billionaire still whispered.
The TA stopped chewing. “With your own sealed ingredients?”
The professor nodded as his assistant got a faraway look in his eyes. Zeiss asked, “I have a solution.”
“The way you say that means ‘I need a favor.’”
Zeiss laid out Red’s problem. “We need to feed her, but we can’t let her eat here; that would be seen as favoritism. We need to let her know she can trust us but still do some sort of penance for her blatant disrespect for authority.”
“Against you?”
“No. I get that ten times a day. I dinged her for railing against you. Let me tell you what I had in mind.” As Zeiss described the plan, Daniel’s mouth became a thin line. He checked Red’s location using his pad—the shooting range. She was probably working off a load of angry before class.
“Make it happen. But keep her stewing till eight o’clock tonight. I need to meet with her first. This spoiled-brat act has gone on long enough.”
“Yes, sir.”
“After we’re done, wheel me to the Kendo studio and get some rest till Alien 101. You’ve earned it.”
****
Red was practicing with live ammunition. Herk and Sojiro were at a distance, guarding the door to the range so that there were no accidents. She had to brace the large gun against a pillar. From the impact on the targets, they looked like anti-tank rounds or spent-uranium slugs. A few dummies had been turned to dust.
Daniel appeared, standing, behind her. “You’ll burn through your allowance by lunch at this rate.”
She whirled the weapon to face him, tripping a minor alarm on the shooting range control board. When she noticed she could see through him, she lowered the muzzle.
Knowing he had her attention, he continued. “I’m serious about the allowance. If you keep spending at this rate, someone will follow the money back to the source. I’ve capped you at two thousand a month so you’ll fit in better.”
Seething, Red snapped, “Afraid to face me?” Her friends couldn’t see him, but she kept her voice down so they thought she was just muttering to herself.
“Afraid.” He cocked his head. “Is that really what you think of me?”
“No,” she said softly. “Never. You’re the b-bravest man I know.” Red stared at his form, whole in ways his physical body couldn’t be. However, if one knew where to look, there were still scuffs around the edges of his image like sandpaper might leave. “You just don’t want to blow my cover. I know this costs you. I appreciate it.”
“We can talk in person when the other students are away for Christmas. Trina will need to teach you a few tricks before you can get within a few meters of me,” he explained. “This tantrum has to end.”
Red sighed, “I feel better now.”
“Not just today’s fit. I mean the constant, childish lashing out that’s been going on since you arrived,” he said in a fatherly tone. When she opened her mouth, he added, “You can hate me all you want, but you will treat my assistant and my wife with respect.”
She moved her jaw in a few abortive attempts. Her breathing grew ragged as she held back tears. “I don’t hate you. But this isn’t fair.”
“I get that girls your age rebel. Hell, I did my share. I don’t care what you blow up. However, if you make Trina cry again, you’re off my island. That woman gave birth to you. Understood?”
Red nodded shakily. “But Zeiss . . .”
“Conrad has been your only advocate on the faculty. That man has been run ragged trying to patch the holes in your cover.”
She stared at him, comparing her memories as a six-year-old to the present. “I was worried there wouldn’t be much of the real you left.”
He snorted. “Because of the physical injuries, I lost a kidney, part of my colon and spine. I’ll never walk on my crutches again. During the operation, I had a small stroke. I have halo vision at night and still haven’t regained full use of my left hand. I have the bone density of a ninety-year-old lady, and late stage Fortune Syndrome. On the plus side, thanks to the new meds they developed based on your body chemistry, my tremors are at a minimum now. The hardest thing is not being able to tolerate the presence of other people.”
Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. “I know. You did it all for me.”
“Stop that. I did it for all my ladies, for Benny, and just to be ornery. It was my choice. My only regret was that I used you to pull the trigger.” This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. Her face was drenched from crying. “I didn’t tell you so you’d feel guilty. I told you because every day of that ordeal, Trina was right there by my side, feeling my pain, even when I was drugged into unconsciousness.” Her uncle stared at her, flickering back in front of her when she turned away from the intensity. “Remember that when you call her a Nazi to your friends.”
“It’s okay,” said the artist. “You don’t have to be bad ass in front of family.”
She hugged him, soaking the front of his shirt. He was clearly uncomfortable, but stuck it out until she said, “I’ll hit the head and wash my face. It’s time for me to get my new name tag.”
“And she’s back,” announced Herk. When she was out of earshot, the bomb technician whispered, “Holding her didn’t make you feel just a little het?”
Sojiro shook his head. “Made me think about having kids of my own some day, though.”
Herk decided, “You would make good girl daddy.”
****
The two men from her club stood behind Red for moral support. Grunt-Monkey met her at the door of the dojo. He tore the tape off his own badge and stuck it on her vest. As he left, the guard said to Red, “You’re good at martial arts, but you need discipline. She can give you that. Listen to her and do what she says and you’ll never have a problem. If something is too hard, you’re probably doing it wrong. Ask. Sensei says what she means and means what she says. Life would be a whole lot easier if more people were like her. She’s in back waiting for you.”
Herk and Red were too stunned to speak. Sojiro broke the silence as he read, “Alistair. His name’s Alistair.”
Red sent them away, saying, “Head to class. I can do this myself. Thanks for the escort.”
The girl wandered into the back room. Trina was sorting towels and uniforms into piles. “Right on time. No song today, Grunt-Monkey. You take over on laundry, and I’ll clean the weapons.”
“Uh . . . I don’t know how.”
Trina locked eyes with her for a minute. Seeing she was telling the truth, the teacher said, “I guess you wouldn’t. Your dad never learned; other people did things for him his whole life. We’ll do a load together.”
No yelling, no threats, just how to do a white load. She had to run Trina’s paint-stained shirt through twice, after a good deal of hand scrubbing. At the end of the hour, Red bowed and said, “Thank you, Sensei.”