by Gin Hollan
She didn't look up. Her entire body felt like she was standing on an energy grid; every part of her tingled. It was nearly overwhelming. He pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back. Slowly her nerves settled. Still, she pushed him away.
"I'm not getting married. I will never give another person that much control over my life," she said. "You may change your mind once you've thought this over in daylight."
Hicks chuckled and reached out to hold her hand. "I doubt I'll stop being interested overnight. Not when I've wanted you forever. I was a coward and we both suffered."
"Once you have me, that'll fade. That's the way of love. It's only there to perpetuate the species," Arabeth replied.
"Now who's being the coward?" he said lightly, teasing.
Her pessimistic side asked if he was using physical touch to cloud her judgement, to control her. "I don't know you very well anymore. That's what I keep thinking, and this confirms it."
"Trust me. You can do that, right?"
"I don't trust anyone, Hicks." She laughed.
"Call me Sam, please." He raised his hand and rubbed his thumb on her cheek. "My contract with the military still has two years on it, but I'll pay the penalty and get out of it after this project if that type of secret bothers you."
"You see? This is what I don't want. I don't want to be the reason you make choices, decisions. I don't want to have to make choices based on legalities. Why would you quit when it's important work and you find value in it?"
"They can use anyone to do my part. I just test what they build."
She stepped back. "You're the one causing the madness?"
"No, no. That's not part of our work. We need it to stop as badly as you do. Officially, that's the pretext I'm here on. We'd like your help finding the person behind it, and the military pays well."
"Not the same kind of contract you have."
"This would be a one-time deal, based on the progress you've already made. You won't need a private detective license for it. You'll have military authority."
Even better, she thought. "And my gadgeteering will be safe from legal interference, including this room?"
"We'll have to ask about that. If you succeed, you can probably ask for anything you want. I'll come by tomorrow with the paperwork. You should have a lawyer check it over before you sign."
"Why can't any of my relationships be simple?" She sighed. "Are we friends or lovers, in your future?"
His face and neck went red again, and she instantly regretted her bluntness.
"Sorry. It's getting late and I'm sure you're as tired as I am,” she apologized.
He fidgeted a bit, one of the traits she found endearing, but rarely saw as he grew older and more confident.
“I'm not sure when we'll have a chance to talk about this again. I'm not saying this to rush you into a decision, but I’d be a fool if I didn’t state my interest. Would you consider me, if you ever do decide you’d like to remarry?" His voice was soft and low, causing her to shiver slightly.
Was that really on the fore of his mind right now? Her and Sam getting married? Of course she would choose him, but she wasn’t going to remarry. She nodded her answer, not sure what words to use. Knowing how he felt, she hated herself for not checking when they were younger.
“Did you feel this way back… you know, back when Matthew showed up?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know I did. Not until it was too late.”
She started peeling the barrier off the door as he did the same to the window. This was a lot to process. Would she even be able to sleep tonight? Military contracts, subversive entities, and marriage proposals aside, she still had to deal with her mother.
And now this confession from Hicks—from Sam, she corrected—there would be no end of trouble. She'd have to make sure that never happened. She blew out the candles as they left, and as she did, she said a short prayer for guidance. She was starting to feel lost.
She didn't want Melanie to see how shaken she really was but Marble was lying across the guest room threshold, nearly tripping her. Sam caught her arm, keeping her from falling completely. His attentiveness afterwards gave it away. After he left, Melanie nearly burst into laughter.
"So what happened in there?" she said.
"There's a reason we used a null room, you know."
"Do you need to get married to protect your honour now?" She winked.
"Nothing like that happened."
"Say what you will—the Hicks that went into that room and the one that came out were two different men."
Arabeth chuckled. "No comment." If they were being listened to, it was better that the listeners believed Sam was there for.... Well, for her.
// Chapter 14 //
Sleep was a fitful quest, and Arabeth woke groggy and momentarily confused, wondering if she had imagined Sam’s visit. Rest hadn't helped, and today was going to be busy. She knew she'd better contact her lawyer and arrange a time to meet. Bernie's runners should be back this morning, meaning she had to stay in the house until at least lunchtime. That suited her. She really didn't want to face the world just yet.
She would stay in her sleeping clothes, she decided. And drink hot tea with her toast. And read the newspaper. It had been weeks since she'd done that. Suddenly she started laughing. It all sounded so normal, and her life couldn't even sort of be described as normal right now. As she walked around, she noticed Marble was missing. That wasn't unusual—there was a small creek about four blocks east that Marble liked to clean up in early in the day. An unusual habit for a fox, but they were normally fairly smelly animals.
Melanie gave her a strange look across the breakfast table.
"I haven't slept that well in weeks. Thank you."
"You're welcome, anytime. If you start to feel yourself unravelling, you need to hang on to something metal, something that's grounded at least ten feet into the ground. The hat only blocks a narrow range of frequencies, so it's not a ready-fix."
Melanie nodded and pulled the hat down tighter. "It may be a placebo, but I don't care."
Arabeth pulled out her cast iron skillet and started making her usual breakfast of two fried eggs and a slice of toast with orange juice.
"Don't cook for me. I'm headed over to Donny's Grill to catch up on all the latest talk," Melanie said.
Arabeth turned. "You're all right to go out?"
Melanie patted the pilot's hat. "I'm sure I'll be fine. I'm not a stay-at-home kind of person. I remember your directions on how to find a grounded object. But I'll be back—I want to know what really happened last night. You two were in that room for a while."
"If anything interesting was going to happen, it would have happened years ago."
"No chance. He was too shy back then. He's a much different man now that he's been doing police work."
And his military work, Arabeth figured.
"If you ask me, he's never been more eligible, and yet so completely taken," Melanie sighed.
"You're overinflating the irony, I think." Arabeth blinked a few times, trying to accept Melanie’s words, but still feeling unsure.
"I’m pointing out the obvious. You haven't been available for quite a few years. He may be thinking this is a second chance."
"I'm worried things will get awkward."
"Awkward? He asked and you said no?"
Arabeth shrugged. “Not exactly.”
"Are you crazy? What if he changes his mind? He’s devoted to you, but even Sam has his limits."
"I don't mean to hurt him; it’s hard to think about marriage again, though. Who wants the kind of love that goes away?"
Melanie bit her lip, head tilted as though she was considering it. "He's waited at least five years while you were married, and longer before that when you were friends, then two more years while you were 'in mourning'. This is not infatuation. Your marriage hit him pretty hard."
"It hit me hard too….” Arabeth's heart slammed in her chest suddenly, unexpectedly. “Wait, what do you mean?”
Melanie fiddled with her hair a moment before talking. "At the station we call it his 'dark time' and none of us talk about it. I won't go into details. God forgive me, but your husband’s death is the best thing that’s happened to either of you."
"I’m not ready."
"I think you're emotionally deaf. You could be happy now, instead of in some imaginary future. Instead of keeping a good man at a distance, a man I know you used to have deep feelings for. For both your sakes, try to thaw out."
"But I am happy." Arabeth knew it sounded empty as she said it. "I'm close enough to happy." That was better. "I'm not lonely when he leaves." She lied.
"We'll talk again later. You're clearly in denial." Melanie headed towards the exit, making a tsking sound as she put her shoes on.
Arabeth didn't want to think about Sam right now. There was enough going on as it was. She pulled out a small stack of notes from her satchel, the results of the queries she'd sent out. With Bernie and Melanie both out on errands, looking for leads, she knew that if she could nail down who was building the automatons, it would be a big step forward.
Those two would make an interesting couple, Arabeth decided. Maybe she'd suggest it, if only to keep Melanie from trying to live vicariously through her and Sam. How could she explain to Melanie and to Sam that she just didn't have romantic feelings for him? She didn't want to offend him.
She used to get a serious heart flutter when she saw him, but when she tried flirting or any of the things her friends said should get his attention, nothing worked. Now, years later, it was unlikely she could rekindle those feelings. She thought she had loved her husband, but he turned out to be a fake, a stranger. Once they were married and the reality of that life came clear, her heart shut down. Self-preservation, she told herself. She’d had to.
It wasn't until Marble had shown up at the funeral—small, lost, and alone—that she felt something again. That compassion grew into a fondness for the little fox, and she was grateful for that. But could she feel actual, romantic affection? She wasn't going to make Sam wait while she figured it out. Hadn't he already been waiting, though? Arabeth slammed her hand down on the kitchen table. Why did she have to think about this right now? She sat down and started filtering through the papers again.
All of her questions led to dead ends.
First note:
'Who owns the hospital now? – It's a numbered company, 10348523.'
'Is is being rented or leased to anyone? – Leased by another numbered company.' After Arabeth’s talk with Sam, she knew it was probably a secret division of the military.
Second note:
'Who is handling the recent violent crime cases? – Everyone.'
'Have they found the cause? – These were unrelated, random acts of violence – no direct cause.'
Third note:
'How many radio stations are broadcasting on the extremes of human hearing, especially over 22,000Hz? – That's propriety information and they’re not sharing.'
Arabeth leaned back in her chair, sipping tea and extrapolating. That meant her informants knew less than she did, or for anything related to the police, Harbertrope had effectively locked her out. She would have to go talk to that man. How could she get the information she needed when she'd put a burr under his saddle, metaphorically speaking? Bernie may not be the best choice of business partner if this was the outcome.
Melanie needed to get back to her job. She had a talent for gaining people's trust, for getting information, and that information was sorely needed. More importantly, if she didn't go to them soon, they may think she's not up to the task anymore. As a twenty-four-year-old, single woman, with no family to take her in during difficult times of transition, that could land her in a bad situation. Yes, she had Arabeth, but Mel was proud. Everyone needed to get back on track.
Sam said Vic was the man at the hospital. Vic, her former brother-in-law. Fate wove certain people together for a reason—what was the reason for this one? He was nothing like his brother, so it couldn't be as a reminder, a warning, to her. Vic was creating devices that impacted the brain, that controlled how people felt and what they thought, but his work was done out, away from people and interfered with the city violence. Unless he was lying. Like his brother.
The baser instincts were supposed to be hardwired in, so they were a more reliable trigger. But to what end? To make the enemy turn on itself? That would end a war fast, and this war had been going on for nearly ten years. It was one of the reasons this city was growing, and the cities near the war were not. Did that end justify these tests?
Graham was becoming more important by the minute, to the point where butterflies filled Arabeth’s stomach when she thought about going to see him. About asking him for a favour. She would have to appeal to his humanity, to some intimate—perhaps even base—instinct for preservation of species, for preservation of self. The violence spreading daily. He would not be immune; his home may even be breached at some point. He was an intelligent man, forty-one years old, and well educated. He might already be working on a solution.
That thought compounded her butterfly situation. Standing, she went and put her teacup in the sink.
Who else was she waiting for here at home? The runners had all come, and it seemed like Bernie and Melanie were on a flexible schedule, having never agreed to arrive by a certain time. Melanie had a key. Bernie knew how to leave a note.
That settled, Arabeth put her glass down and went to load her satchel. She was about to put a tiny injection device in her bag when it struck her just how much the city had changed in the last week. She hadn't wanted to acknowledge it, but there was literally fighting in the streets. She pulled three extras out of the box and loaded them with a fast-acting tranquilizer, dropping them in her satchel as well.
Marble walked into the room and sat watching Arabeth prepare. Glancing over, Arabeth smiled, noting the little fox was indeed damp around the edges, and licking her lips after finishing breakfast.
There was a prototype of the transmitter and receiver set that she wanted Graham to retry building. She had the design drawn out, but her tools were too large, too crude for the work. This was to be a more sophisticated version of Marble's collar transmitter. Maybe she should bring that too. It took a minute to find it, at the back of her 'Fail – Retry' box. She needed a more sensitive oscillator as well. A specialist like him might even have one sitting around.
The next thing she needed was her city map from two years ago. It was marked with Graham's home address, as well as a couple other spots he was likely to be found. As she dug around in the box she'd left it in, she found a file folder he'd slipped her as another bounty hunter pushed his way into Graham's house. He'd trusted her with that. What was in it, though? She never did look. She lifted the edge, tempted, but closed it again. This was trust.
It was one of two things: would he trust her with something he didn't want falling into the wrong hands, or was he too busy being handcuffed to dispose of it properly? He hadn't come to get the folder after he was let out of prison. He could have come to thank her for sending her lawyer over. The man had found a loophole for Graham to climb out through. She didn't know the details; she was too busy tracking down the guy that was actually guilty, in case the lawyer couldn't win. She'd caught him, but the damage was done. Graham was a family friend and she'd used that fact to find him. That got him locked up. Her intent was to warn him, but she was followed—a mistake she never made again.
She slapped a hand on her thigh. Enough retrospect. It was time to lace up her boots and get out there. She went to the pantry and pulled out a small pouch of dried chicken jerky and then filled an oilskin with water. Next stop: Graham.
// Chapter 15 //
Half an hour later her cab pulled up in front of Graham's house. Steeling herself, she stepped out, hoping but dreading that he was home. Marble sensed her trepidation and lingered behind. Since when was she fearful? She laughed quietly and knocked on the door.
"Come
in. We've been expecting you," a woman's voice called out.
The hair on the back of her neck tingled at the strangeness of it, then she realized there must be a monitoring system of some sort. Or maybe that happened every time, no matter who was at the door. But why a woman's voice? She hadn't heard he’d gotten married, and that would have been big news to her family.
Cracking the door open, Arabeth looked inside. It was dark. She stepped inside and took a few steps, hoping she wouldn't bump into anything. A brilliant light came on overhead, forcing her to stop while her eyes adjusted.
"Okay, where are you?" she said, raising a hand over her eyes.
The room was cavernous and seemed to be used for pure science, with several different tables covered with experiments. A heavy-set blonde woman of average height walked over, smiling.
"Graham is in the other room. Come in, won't you?" She pointed to the boot rack. "Graham entertains a lot these days—he's in talking with two aeronauts right now. Frankly, it all goes over my head like the ratios for hydrogen disbursement, canvas weight, centre of gravity. I'm starting to learn, but there's still too much that's changing as we go."
Arabeth nodded. "Is he going to be long, do you know?"
"Oh, these meetings aren't usually long. Most people have trouble, because they can't make eye contact." She stuck her hand out, a very modern gesture, Arabeth noted. "I'm Daisy, and before you ask, I'm his assistant.”
"I'm Arabeth. I'm a gadgeteer."
"Ooh." Daisy smiled. "Perfect. Come here. Explain this to me."
Daisy led her to one of the slanted drafting tables, filled with large sheets of architect's graphing paper. "The item is simple enough, but what are these words?"
"Are you sure I'm allowed to see this?"
"It's not a problem, I assure you. The minute you told me your name, I knew I could enlist you. He's spoken of you often." She blushed a little, but looked at the paper still.
Skeptical, Arabeth hesitated. "You don't read?"