Keeping Luna

by Todd Michael Haggerty

  Geena smiled coolly. “He doesn’t seem like so much to me.”

  Cecil smirked and returned his sights onto Kale.

  “Now Kale, I don’t know if you remember me, but we’ve met before. I was there when you arrived, during your first briefing. There were a lot of faces in that room, so it wouldn’t surprise me if I didn’t stand out. My name is…”

  “Cecil Hannover, sir, Minister of Military Operations. You coordinate every move we make, inland and out. Do you imagine I could walk into this room not knowing who you are, sir?”

  “Ha. Yes yes. No, I suppose that’s true. But do you know the young lady to your right?”

  “Geena, was it? She doesn’t seem like so much to me.”

  “Ha! Good. Yes yes. That’s good. Geena here is, well, my protégé. Everything I know, I make sure that she knows it too. I would say that I hope her presence won’t be a problem for you, but honestly I don’t care.”

  “No problem here, sir.”

  “Now then…” Cecil pulled up his elbows and leaned into the back of his seat, but still his back remained straight and his shoulders did not slump forward. Kale noted his posture, certain that Cecil had at some point been in the military himself.

  Possibly a crash-course through basic as a way of getting him familiar with the job? thought Kale. No. It’s more than that. This isn’t conscious at all. This man came up in it. He couldn’t slouch if he wanted to.

  “Perhaps you are wondering why we called you in here, Kale. Just as you might have been wondering why you were re-tasked to this city in the first place. After all, you were quite effective out there. Out in ‘the shit’, as you would call it. So why pull you? Right?”

  “Orders are orders, sir. I don’t question them. I just follow them.”

  “Ah. Yes yes. A good soldier. We tell you the job, and you get it done. And that… that is why you are here in the capital, Kale. I need a man I can trust to follow directives. You don’t flinch.”

  Cecil stood up and stepped to his desk, where a small red folder lay waiting. He turned the cover, and a photograph of Kale looked up at him.

  “Never made it to your primary split. Transferred early… age seven. Do you know why that is? They don’t make habit of telling you these things, but you must have had some idea. Certainly you do by now.”

  Cecil closed the file again and leaned his hands onto the desk in front of him. He studied Kale.

  “You don’t feel things the way most people do. You don’t feel much at all, do you?”

  “Pain, sir? Yes, I feel pain. I just ignore it, is all.”

  “No, no. Not pain. Not that kind of pain. I mean up here.”

  He pressed his finger into the side of his head, and then let it glide down his front side to his stomach.

  “I mean in here. You don’t flinch; you don’t get queasy. You take the jobs that you know your men don’t have the stomach for, don’t you? And you can play dumb all you like, but I know that you know it.

  “The irony is that people with your gift… and it is a gift, Kale… you were the first ones to end up on the boat; the original R’n’R. Since then we’ve come to realize how truly invaluable you are if put onto the right course at an early age. If you are given just a little direction. You excel at what you do because you were born to do it.”

  “But?” Kale was a patient man, but he had an appreciation for directness.

  “But you keep killing people, man! That isn’t your job! This isn’t the fucking desert!”

  “I do apologize for that, sir, I do. But it’s programming.” He held his hands up in display. “These have been trained to do but a handful of things, sir. You can’t dice an onion with a soupspoon, sir. I understand that this could present a considerable problem in regards to my current assignment, and so I wish to request a transfer back into the field. I hope I’m not being too forward, sir.”

  “I appreciate it when folks are too forward, Kale. Cut the bullshit, move on with business. But I can’t send you back. First of all, it would send the wrong message. Next thing I know, every man we got chasing that doesn’t find the job too exciting will be throwing their rundowns off of roofs and opening their targets’ arteries in backstreets.

  “Second, why would I ever send you back after putting in the effort to get you here in the first place? You are the man I need, Kale. But you make it difficult. We had to make six people disappear after that rooftop stunt; people who were unfortunate enough to think that they might have seen something. And we had to interview the whole damn neighborhood. It’s a tremendous waste of resources and time.

  “But I’m a reasonable man. I brought the bull into the china shop. I shouldn’t be surprised when he smashes some china. So let’s make a deal, Kale. You can kill every single rundown you get assigned to if it pleases you. Hell, we could just send you in place of the retrieval team and spare you having to wait until the target runs. Use those hands of yours. I don’t want you losing your edge, because I might need that edge someday… possibly someday soon.”

  Cecil took a step back and took hold of the armrest of his chair, pulling it forward and underneath him. He sighed heavily as he sat down, now within reach of his bureau.

  “Sir, is there something you have in mind for me? Something specific? You are a man who makes plans, and I’m certain that you have one for me… so as you phrased it, I would like to ‘cut the bullshit’.”

  “Yes yes. Good, good. You see, Kale, you are the least of my problems. In point of fact, I’m thinking that you will be able to help me solve a rather large problem, just as soon as I understand the scope of it.”

  “Ah. Right. You need me to fix someone. Just give me a name and I’ll be on my way, sir.”

  “It’s not quite that simple, soldier. Geena, would you be so kind as to hand our friend here the file?”

  Geena reached down into the soft-shelled briefcase that was resting upright against the leg of her chair, and she came up with another red folder. She handed it to Kale, keeping her eyes forward and fixed on Cecil the entire time. She looked bored, disinterested and bordering on contemptuous. If Kale hadn’t known any better, he would have assumed that she was in charge by the way she carried herself.

  He took the folder, opened it, and immediately laughed sharply. He liked a good surprise.

  “Something you find funny, Kale? Do you know this man?”

  Kale brought his eyes up to Cecil’s, but the rest of his face remained tilted down towards the dossier in his lap. On the inside cover was a photograph of a handsome man with dark skin and a closely shaven head. His shoulders were broad and solid beneath his fatigues, and he looked to be about thirty years old.

  “What, Owen Seattle?” Kale asked in near disbelief. “Owen Seattle is here… in this city? Right now?”

  “Oh, so you do know this man?”

  “Well, sir, we’ve never actually met. But I know him by reputation. Everybody does. My understanding is that if he isn’t on your side, then you’ve got a problem.”

  “I see, I see. It’s good that I don’t have to explain to you that he is to be taken seriously. But my real problem goes back much further than this Owen fellow. There is an old man, a very old man, another one of the Twenty-Five. This old man’s name is Lamar, and he is the Minister of Computer Technology.

  “He is more dangerous than most people know, and less benign than his years would let on. And he is in the process of handing over the reins, as it were, to a young man named Gabriel, whom he has been grooming for some time now.

  “Several months back, Lamar handpicked Owen Seattle out of whatever dry, sandy hellhole he was serving in and shipped him over here, under the pretense that he would be training soldiers in hand-to-hand combat. He was removed from that detail after a few short weeks and has since been meeting in private with young Gabriel. Frankly, we have no idea what they’re up to. They meet twice a week in a residential building downtown.”

  Kale returned his eyes to the dossier in his lap and wen
t over Owen’s combat history. It was like he was reading his own biography. Owen had been active for just a few years longer than Kale, and had fought in nearly all of the same regions, and even in the same order. Their terms of service in two of these regions had even overlapped by a few months before Owen had been transferred on to his next assignment

  “Ok. There’s no reason for this to be difficult,” started Kale, his eyebrows rising up attentively above his cold blue eyes. “I’m just going to need clearance to use a Hawk rifle here in the city. One shot is all I need, and we could do it somewhere discrete. Through the window of his flat, from the building across the street maybe? You’ve seen the man’s dossier, and while I do appreciate a good challenge, it makes sense not to take the risk of engaging him up close.”

  “Ha! Yes, yes! I like your style, Kale. I haven’t even said ‘jump’ yet, and you’re already working out the height. Good, good. But we are going to wait a little while before doing anything so bold. I don’t have the full picture yet. And while Geena here might agree with you completely, I very much dislike wading into a dark room and swinging my arms about.

  “You see, there is one additional detail to this whole Owen predicament that I find troublesome, possibly more vexing than the rest. He has been brought into the Coupling Program. This doesn’t appear to be counterfeit, and the medical records point to his partner giving birth sometime in early summer.”

  “Hmmm.” Kale’s eyebrow was raised over his right eye. “That does seem strange. Although maybe it shouldn’t. The man obviously has something worth passing on. I see here that he’s got himself a brain beneath that shiny head of his. Tested well above the cognitive average.

  “I still feel that precautionary action would be smart, sir, even if the threat that he presents remains unclear. But orders are orders. Although I would like access to all of the files relating to this case, if I may. Owen’s. His partner’s. And whatever you have on this old man Lamar and his successor. It sounds like you already have surveillance up, sir?”

  “I have a small team in place, yes. I have been avoiding the use of the municipal cameras as they are all connected to the Frame, and our activity could easily be monitored by Lamar and his boy. We know that Owen and Gabriel are meeting in the basement of that highrise, but the door lock is peculiar and we haven’t been able to find a way in without damaging the door and making our presence known.”

  “So you would like for me to join the team, follow these three men?”

  Cecil shook his head.

  “No, no. Nothing like that. For starters, we’re only following two men. Lamar has left his apartment just once in the last two-and-a-half months, and that was for the Fall summit. The man is on death’s door. Hell, I’ve thought he was dying for twenty years. But now… now you can smell it on him. He’s a withered twig of a man. Kind of makes me sad, really. I’m not sure his boy is going to be as much of a challenge for us. But all that is beside the point. I’ve got enough coverage for the other two. What I need from you is, well, nothing at all. Not right this second, anyhow.”

  Kale closed his eyes and pushed a few puffs of laughter out his nose, shaking his head.

  “So, just to be clear, sir, I was summoned here today to be told to continue doing what I’ve been doing?”

  “Minus the public bodies…”

  Cecil trailed off for a breath and shared a smirk with Geena.

  “Yes, yes. I suppose that’s it, Kale.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Ok. Careful, careful. Let me help you to the sofa.”

  “Owen, I know you care for me. And I care for you. I do. Very much. But if you don’t give me some space I’m going to cut you.”

  “Will you now?” Owen laughed.

  “I’ll do it affectionately, though.”

  Claire slipped away from the support of Owen’s arm and flopped out onto the sofa. She sighed loudly.

  “Ahhhh… I missed this place. My couch, my view, my kitchen…”

  “Are you hungry? Should I throw something together? I stocked the fridge yesterday, and we got some…”

  “Seriously, Owen! Stop. I’m fine. You’ve been great, but just stop.”

  Owen stood there in the middle of the living room, glancing over at the kitchen, then out the window, down at Claire, and then out the window again. There was no wind, and large globs of snow were drifting silently down beyond the glass.

  Claire rolled over onto her side, facing the couch cushions.

  “Come here. Lie down with me.”

  “But you just said you need some space.”

  “Shut up and get your ass down here. I want you to feel something.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, you just got out of the hospital, and I’m not sure if we should be….”

  “Stop joking around and come here. Quick.”

  Owen kicked off his shoes and tucked himself behind Claire on the couch. He tried to speak again but she shooshed him before he could.

  “Here. Give me your hand,” she said, lifting up her right arm to allow his arm underneath it. She took his hand and wrapped it around the globe of her belly, pressing the tips of his fingers firmly into the far side of her upper abdomen.

  “What are you d...” Owen started.

  “Shh. Just wait a minute. Keep your hand right there. There! There it was! Did you feel it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Just wait. Don’t move your hand.”

  The two of them lay there spooning in silence. Owen’s mind began to wander and his thoughts became less and less grounded in reality.

  He hadn’t had time to think about how little he had slept over the last weeks. To be honest, he didn’t find sleep to be all that restful. In dreams, his mind found ways to twist his head around and he had no control over any of it. The weather would always be grey with fog, and he could always feel the saltwater spray on his face.

  As he lay there with Claire, the smell of the ocean entered his nose as he drifted off. And he was just starting to see those eyes. Those awful eyes staring at him from just beneath the surface of the water, which lay completely still and glassy despite the hasty motion of the ship.

  His ears were filling with a mumbling hum. It was growing loud. Too loud. A thousand voices, struggling to speak through gagged mouths, loud and frantic and full of fear.

  Something bumped beneath his index and middle fingers, and he snapped out of his slumber and back into Claire’s apartment, back to his body, lying pressed up against her from behind.

  “You felt that one, right?” Claire asked, unaware that Owen had been drifting away.

  “Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Was it…”

  Something pressed suddenly into his fingers and then pulled away.

  “Is that… is that it? Is that her?”

  “Yes it is. I’ve been feeling it for weeks now. It started off like a butterfly rustling its wings around in there, but now… it’s her! And she’s so strong, Owen!”

  Her voice wavered as she spoke this last bit, and Owen realized that she was crying.

  “She is so strong, kicking around in there.” She sniffled. “Strong like her papa.”

  Owen felt another kick, this time a little further down and beneath his ring and little fingers. It seemed unreal to him at first, but the realization settled in a little more with each movement of the child within this incredible woman beside him.

  What he felt next seemed more than unreal. It was impossible. He felt his eyes growing warm and wet, and a few seconds later a tear worked its way out of his left eye and headed for his temple.

  His mouth began to move and make sounds before his brain could edit the thoughts that were spilling out of him.

  “We should keep her. She is ours. We should keep her!”

  “Owen!” she sobbed. “You know I want to, but you know we can’t. You were the one who reminded me, remember? It’s all in those damn books they gave us. They say that every mother will want to keep her child. They say that so
metimes even the father will feel the same. But it’s selfish. It’s selfish to want that.”

  The two of them fell silent for a few minutes while tiny sharp bumps continued to rise up beneath Owen’s hand. Without a word, he twisted himself around and rose up from the couch. He kneaded at his eyes with the palms of his hands.

  I must have cried once, at least once, when I was young, right? he thought. I can’t remember it, but I must’ve…

  Claire turned enough so that she could see him.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Just…” He pulled his hands quickly away from his face, as if he could hide the fact that he had been crying. His eyes were puffy and red from his rubbing. “Just stay there. I won’t be more than a minute.”

  He disappeared into the bedroom and then returned a minute later with something crinkling in his hands. He lay down behind her again, propping himself up on his left elbow. He brought his other hand over her and held something out.

  “Here. Take it,” he said.

  She did. The cellophane was noisy in her hand. It was silver and shiny, and there was nothing written anywhere on it.

  “What are you giving me here, Owen? What is this?”

  “It’s a ration bar. I still have hundreds left over from the service. They’re not very good, but it’s packed with all the nutrition and energy you need to keep going. Half of one of these is more than you would need in a day.”

  “Are you seriously still trying to feed me? Right now?” she asked, not making any effort to hide the irritation in her voice.

  Owen laughed lightly to himself.

  “No. That’s not it. Like I said, they’re not too tasty anyhow. I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to explain what happened that day. Do you remember? The man who fell off the building down the street?”