“That little show lasted about twenty minutes in my head,” she was surprised and a little pleased to find him rising to the bait.
“Worth it?”
“Absolutely,” it was a statement of pure fact.
“Some gentleman,” she shot him a sarcastic eye roll.
Fuck it, she thought.
She hooked a finger into the neckline of her tank top and tugged it diagonally downward, exposing the top half of her right breast. Roland’s eyes betrayed the loss of his ironclad discipline at the unexpected sight of soft flesh. At his height, Lucia was confident Roland could see just about everything she wanted him to. “Want to see it in reverse?” Her look was no longer playful.
His reaction was not what she expected. She saw panic in his eyes. Not discomfort, not embarrassment, not fear of rejection. Panic.
She had never seen him look that way before. It looked so wrong on his face that it frightened her. It was the purest, most heart-wrenching thing she had ever seen. When he spoke, all she heard was his fear.
“I… I can’t…” he stammered, but Lucia came at him like a thunderbolt. She had to step on his knee to get the height she needed, but she leapt up and wrapped her legs around his torso. She grabbed him by both sides of his head stared directly into his eyes.
“Yes, you can, you colossal idiot,” she couldn’t believe how frightened he looked, “You are allowed to be human, and this is what humans do when they like each other!”
She kissed him. Hard. She was surprised to find that his lips were warm if a little on the stiff side. One hundred and thirty pounds of woman felt all nine-hundred and forty pounds of killing machine stiffen with fear. She could tell he wanted to run, but was also afraid to hurt her. Lucia held on tighter and didn’t stop for a long time.
Eventually, she felt him relax, and then his hands were on her back, soft yet strong. He lifted her away with a gentleness she did not think could be possible with hands so large. She disengaged the kiss but didn’t release his head.
She was surprised and saddened to see a single tear suspended in the corner of his left eye. It hung there in resolute defiance, as if he was too stubborn to even allow himself to shed it. He spoke, and there was so much pain in his voice it nearly broke her heart, “Please,” he said quietly, “don’t… don’t do this…”
Her tone was gentle, but incredulous, “I do whatever I want to. I always have. I know what I’m doing now.”
“I’m not like other guys…” Roland winced at the stupid cliché of that, “It’s not… good? I’m not a good choice… I can’t make babies, I don’t have skin, I… I’m just not good for you is all…” It was a mumbling, stream-of-consciousness attempt to explain a well-maintained suit of emotional armor.
“Good for me?” she laughed in his face, “News flash, Roland: raiding mob fortresses isn’t good for me. You, on the other hand, have kept me alive and un-abducted. I could easily argue that you are the BEST thing for me!” Still hanging in the air, she gave his chest a playful kick, “I don’t give a fuck about your… chassis, is it? I like you, dumbass. Even if you can be an enormous twit much of the time.”
He put her down, but she didn’t back away or let him past her. Lucia asked him the hard question, “What are you so afraid of, Roland? I know you like me. I can tell. I like you, I hope you can tell. I’m not afraid of you; or of being with you. So, if it’s not me, then what exactly is the big strong man afraid of?”
Roland shrugged the shrug of rebuked teenager, “I’ll hurt you, eventually. I’ll disappoint you. I’m trying my best to be a good man, but I will always be a weapon, too. I’m just…” Roland couldn’t make the words work, he knew how it felt, but the sounds coming from his mouth weren’t conveying it correctly. They sounded hollow, inadequate. But they were all he had, “… I’m wrong, inside, Lucia. Broken. Ugly.”
Lucia could tell that Roland was trying to make a point, so she let him continue.
“You’re special, Lucia. You deserve an amazing guy who can give you the life you want, not an old piece of Army surplus ordnance.” He spat the last word with more venom than he intended. The wound, twenty-five years old now, remained fresh and raw as ever.
But it didn’t ring true. Not to Lucia, anyway.
“That’s not it at all, Roland. Oh, I get it,” she rolled her eyes, “that’s the story you tell yourself, and maybe you even believe it, but I don’t buy it.” Her face softened into a gentle smile, “Roland, you are a magnificent idiot. But I like you, so I’ll spell this out.” She put her hands over his and looked him in the eyes, daring him to flinch. “This has nothing to do with me deserving better, it’s about you assuming that you deserve worse. As if somehow you are cursed to walk the earth like a goddamn action movie trope, alone and miserable, just because you got caught up in some bad stuff when you were younger. Seriously, you can be such a child sometimes.”
She gave him a stiff poke in the gut for emphasis, “That’s not how life works, dumbass. Now, I already know why you are being obstinate here, and it’s not healthy. So, just get it over with and tell me the truth, Roland. Tell me now.”
Roland could not know how transparent he was to this woman, but he was figuring it out. He hung his head, speaking honestly of his secret fear for the first time to anyone, “I’m afraid that this,” he knocked on his chest with a fist and the sharp, muffled thump emphasized the density and mass of his armored body, “is all I have to offer. I’m afraid the best part of me really is still out there,” he gestured to the sky, “soaking into the dirt of some forgotten battlefield.” The big man spared a thought for that bright-eyed twenty-year-old, still pounding the ground on Venus. That boy was full of the righteous pride of soldier who loved his planet and loved his Army. He couldn’t see himself in that person anymore. Now he saw only the weapon. He saw Breach.
His eyes pleaded with the woman in front of him. Pleaded for her to back away, to let him go. “I’m not built for love, Lucia, I’m built for war.” It was a hollow lie and a cliché attempt to dissuade her.
“That’s why I can’t let you do this. I want to. Dear god do I want to!” He set his face in a grim mask of resolution, “But it wouldn’t be right, and doing what’s right is all I have left.”
The small woman did not react the way Roland expected. In hindsight, it was exactly the reaction he should have expected, but he had only known her for a couple of days at this point.
“Let me? Let me?” Lucia, Roland noticed, was beautiful when she was angry.
“You patronizing self-righteous metal-domed son a of a bitch,” she began, shaking her head in furious denial, “you do not ‘let me’ do anything! And you do not get to tell me who I should and should not be with.”
She gave him another hard poke in the belly, “Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No!” Roland was not sure where exactly this had gone awry for him, but he knew he had again screwed up.
“Good. Because I’m not. I know exactly the kind of man you are, Tankowicz, and when you are not wallowing in self-pity, I like it. When I like something, I go get it. When I like a man, I go get him.”
She arched an eyebrow and struck a saucy pose. Every curve of her body found a seam on the tank top to stretch, and Roland inhaled reflexively, “Do you doubt that, soldier?” Hers was the look of a woman who got exactly what she wanted, and who wise men had learned not to test.
“No, ma’am,” he croaked, acutely uncomfortable.
“Good,” she put her hands to her hips and leaned forward to emphasize her next point, “It would be in your best interests to recognize that I am a grown woman who doesn’t fucking ask permission to like a man. You do not ‘let’ me think or feel anything.” She cocked an eyebrow, “Are we communicating yet, Corporal?”
Roland was again trapped, “Yes. Of course. You know I meant no disrespect, right? I’m just… bad at talking sometimes…”
She took his hand in both of hers, “You have been an amazing person for the last few days,
Roland. You’ve done many things that were sweet and charming and admirable. Because of that, I have decided that I may want to be more than just friends with you.”
She clapped her hands, startling the big man, “And that’s it! That’s the whole stupid process. Boy meets girl, and so on…”
Roland feared what she was trying to do more than any opponent or battle he had ever faced. He wanted to push her away, and he knew why. If Lucia couldn’t hate or fear him, how could he go on hating and fearing himself? He wasn’t sure he deserved happiness; not when he still had so much to atone for.
“Not when the boy is a living weapon,” Roland admonished.
She rolled her eyes, “You are not a weapon. You’re just a man. A stupid, stubborn, deeply flawed, flesh-and-blood person who deserves happiness just like I do.”
She gave him a stern look, “Stop being such a victim. You’re a real boy, Pinocchio. You always have been.”
Lucia prevented any further introspection when in an iron voice she declared, “This is happening, Roland.” Her smile hardened, “So please, for both of our sake’s, stop making this harder than it needs to be, OK?”
Roland wanted to believe that. It certainly sounded like Lucia believed it. Maybe that was good enough? It was going to have to be because he was losing this argument. For some reason that made him happy.
The big man still looked confused and a little scared, but she could tell that she had won when the corner of one side of his mouth curled into a smile. He nodded slowly, “Ok, lady. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“You just worry about your own ass, buddy. I’ll be fine.” She shrugged out of the shirt, “Now, lay down.”
At that point, Billy McGinty wandered down the hall towards Lucia’s door. They were supposed to be getting set up with the smugglers, but Roland had not come back from going to fetch Lucia. When he got to the door, something made him pause, and for many years afterwards he thanked whatever powers that be that he did.
The sounds coming from that room were unmistakable if somewhat bizarre. Billy had no idea whatsoever as to how it happened, or how it was going to work, but he was absolutely sure that those two would miss the meeting with the smugglers.
Good for them, he chuckled to himself, and headed back upstairs.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The late afternoon Monday meeting found Roland and Lucia once again pondering the imminent assault of a fortress.
McGinty, his smugglers, and the two fugitives had finally gotten together to discuss a plan for retrieving Dr. Ribiero. But Billy could not help himself, and made a big, dramatic show of teasing the two about their tardiness.
“Weeeeeellllllllll, just lookie here at who managed to get out of bed and join us?” His goofy smirk and laconic drawl betrayed his obvious mirth, “Y’all well rested?”
Roland was relieved that he could not blush. Lucia for her part never blushed. She fired back at McGinty without missing a beat, “I don’t know that I’ve ever rested that well, Billy, thanks for asking.”
“Must be the bed. We have nice mattresses here, that’s for sure,” Billy snickered.
“I wouldn’t now, Billy, the damn thing couldn’t handle the weight of both of us,” the woman deadpanned.
Billy frowned, “If you aren’t even going to have the common decency to be embarrassed, then how do you expect me to have any fun with this?”
“I don’t,” Roland growled with a menace so pure and intense that Billy feared he might have gone too far with the ribbing for his own safety.
“Besides, I think I’ve had enough fun for the both of us already,” the giant cyborg finished with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.
Billy looked at Lucia aghast, “Did he just smile?” he looked back at Roland, concern on his face, “Are you gonna be OK? I hear it hurts the first time.”
“At least now we know how get him into a good mood,” Lucia added.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.,” Roland grumbled, “Everybody have a good laugh at the happy cyborg. Get it out of your systems because there is work to do.”
“Well that didn’t last long,” Lucia chuckled, as Roland’s grey demeanor reasserted itself.
“Do it harder next time, see if that buys us more time,” was Billy’s helpful suggestion.
“Your building wouldn’t survive it,” was her arch response.
Billy whistled, “Damn, girl. My condolences. Want an ice pack or something?”
“Enough!” Roland almost shouted, exasperated.
“There he is,” Billy said, “back in form, now.”
The two smugglers, whose names were not offered, looked on in equal parts confusion and bemused indifference, and Billy decided he had antagonized Roland enough for one day.
“Let’s talk about your building, shall we?” Billy invited.
“Thank you. Yes. Let’s do that,” Roland replied with exaggerated formality and no small relief.
“First things first,” Billy started, “here are the reports form my people at Enterprise.”
Billy’s people had confirmed that two teams of private security contractors had accessed the Enterprise Anson Gate late the previous night. Roland was not foolish enough to believe they were for anything else but him.
Billy’s intel on the groups was impressive for a bunch of Big Woo stool pigeons, but Roland had learned that Billy ran a very different type of street gang than he was used to. He was taking the unexpected as rote when it came to McGinty’s Teamsters.
The grunts from Galapagos matched no one Roland had heard of, but those crews changed all the time, anyway.
Billy had only ever heard stories about the Galapagos system and its colorful denizens, “How big a problem are they gonna be, you think?”
Roland considered that for a protracted moment. The teams from Galapagos weren’t so much a cohesive unit of like-minded tradesman as they were a loose association of sociopaths with better-than-average people skills. McGinty’s spies had counted one re-purposed construction armature and enough weaponry to subdue a small country in that group.
Other than the ’mech, these guys didn’t bother Roland too much as opposition. They amounted to untrained, uncoordinated animals with a common goal and stacks of augmentations. While physically tough as individuals, they would be easy pickings for a guy like Tankowicz if he kept his head on straight.
“These guys are high-tier muscle, but low-tier talent. If it comes to slugfest I like my chances, but the specs on that armature would be nice.”
One smuggler shrugged, “We don’t really have the expertise for that. It was big. It was obviously an old construction ’bot. That’s all I can tell you about it.”
Roland shrugged, “I’ll figure it out. Can’t really deploy that in an office building, anyway.”
The Thorgrimm crew, based upon descriptions, had to be a detachment from Pike’s Privateers.
Roland winced and shook his head, “That’s both good and bad, folks.” He explained further, “Good because they are an actual professional paramilitary group. Real soldiers.”
“That’s good?” Lucia asked.
“Yeah, they won’t be prone to fits of ultra-violence or cruelty. These are real, honest, specialists with ethics, at least,” he explained, “They will be reasonable and predictable.”
“So, what’s the bad part?” McGinty inquired.
Roland grimaced, “Unless a lot has changed in twenty years, those are absolutely A-list quality hardcore badasses.”
There was small consolation in that the manifest showed no sign of heavy cyborgs, but the weapons list was impressive enough to give Roland pause.
“I really don’t want to tangle with the whole squad. No guarantees on success if that’s how it goes down.” Roland did not have to elaborate on what he meant by ‘success.’ If any single group could bring Roland down, it would be a group like Pike’s.
But Corpus Mundi could not afford to have an off-the-books biotech facility exposed in Uptown, s
o the mercenaries were almost certainly going to be deployed to search for them in Big Woo or Dockside. Two squads of exotic muscle walking aground what was supposed to be a regular old office park would raise red flags everywhere, including the local constabulary. That was the hope, at least.
And the constabulary was a complication that would be factored in as well. Uptown was not like Dockside or the Woo. Uptown had a modern, well-equipped, professional police force that was largely competent and reasonably free of corruption. When the situation got energetic enough, they would descend upon the building with overwhelming numbers and force.
Nobody from Corpus Mundi would call the police on their own illegal operation, but one could only make so much noise in Uptown before the police would assert themselves. Thus, they factored that into the plan.
The reluctance to call the cops could buy them the time they needed to seize the initiative at the outset. When things got bad, or if Roland made enough noise, the police would come anyway. The hope was that a robust police presence meant Roland and the Ribieros could play their respective victim cards and secure a clean getaway while the crooks all went to jail.
Roland did not expect everything to go according to plan because they never did. But the framework had enough flexibility built in that he liked their chances well enough, with a few caveats.
Most importantly, dealing with the mercenaries.
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