Heinlein's Finches

by Robin Banks

  Asher’s eyes go completely flat.

  “In addition to the lack of adequate protection, Professor McGee takes no precautions whatsoever to limit her exposure. Traipsing down busy hallways when there are alternative routes, hanging around in public areas, and so on. The only parts of her day when I would deem her reasonably protected are those spent in her office and her…” his eyes flicker “… her ‘home’. But that would only be the case if she had anyone capable of actually defending her in those locations.”

  That fucking hurts. It hurts twice as much because it’s true. Asher’s incapacitated, and I’m barely competent at fighting. Gwen’s good, but relying on that kinda pisses on the whole protection thing.

  “From what I understand, the only real protection Professor McGee has received derived from the restrictions she voluntarily placed on her movements following Professor McGee’s accident. So I can’t say he’s not contributing.”

  I’m so upset I feel nauseous. Asher’s sitting back in his ATR, shuddering with rage, hurt, and shame. Gwen’s so furious she can’t talk. Reggie seems to be struggling with the same, but he recovers first.

  “There appear to be some details you’re overlooking. Both the Professors are combat trained.”

  “Sure. Only one’s wheeling himself around, and the other is a perfect miniature model of an actual human being.”

  “Having watched her spar for her graduation, I see that as more of an advantage than a hindrance, but I shan’t disabuse you of your notions. Adjunct Taua is also combat trained…”

  “Would you care to test him? I’m available.”

  “Her.” Gwen’s found her voice. “She’s combat trained, not that that’s why she’s here. And so are most of the Professors, and all the cadets. As the year progresses, so does their training. You say I have no security detail. Everyone around me is my security detail. Six months into the academic year, any and all of them are trained as well as any Patrolman.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “That’s your prerogative.”

  His eyes narrow. “You asked me for my opinion.”

  “No, actually. We didn’t. Your superiors did.”

  “As you say. And now they have it, and they have reached their own conclusions. They agree with me.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning that they’ve extended my assignment indefinitely.”

  We’re all shocked into silence. Reggie’s the first one to recover, again.

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “I have been assigned to provide a permanent security detail for Professor McGee, until the threat abates or she sees sense and takes up our original suggestion. Or she is killed. You appear altogether too prone to forget about that eventuality.”

  Gwen swallows visibly. “Ok. Is there anything else you need to discuss with us?”

  “If what I’ve said already hasn’t made any impact, I hardly see the point.”

  “Excellent. Chancellor, do you need us for anything else?”

  “No.” He turns to Captain Kendall and glowers. “I will need a copy of your written report.”

  “Already on record and on its way to you.”

  We file out of the office, Gwen walking rigidly ahead, Marcus on her tail. I guess I’m going to have to get used to having him there. Asher is contracting and releasing his fists as he drives. He still hasn’t said a word, or even looked at any of us. I’m rather glad of that, because I feel as if I’m starting to come apart.

  Marcus is not going to go away. He’s going to stay here indefinitely. He’s going to continue living beside me, working beside me, being there all the damn time. And I really don’t think I can take it. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I’m having to fight back tears. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together but clearly it’s not working, because when Asher takes a look at me he seems horrified. I manage to clamp down on my feelings, but he doesn’t seem to buy it.

  When we get to Gwen’s office, he wheels the ATR across the doorway, blocking my entry.

  “Gwen, I need Quinn for a minute in my office. Ok?”

  “Are you ok?”

  “Yeah. I just need a hand with something. I’ll send her right back to yours as soon as possible. Is that ok?”

  Marcus shrugs. “I hardly think it could make much of a difference.”

  “Thank you for contributing, though I didn’t ask you. We’ll see you in a bit, ok?”

  Gwen doesn’t look sure at all, but she nods. They go into her office, and we carry on down the hallway to Asher’s. As soon as the door is shut behind us, he turns to look at me.

  “Ok. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it, because otherwise you would have done so already, but please, you’ve got to tell me what’s up. You’ve hardly said two words together for days, and just then, in the hallway… I know it’s none of my business unless you choose to make it so, but I love you, and I don’t like to see you like this.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s nonsense.”

  “Nothing that makes you look like that is nonsense. Not for me. I’ve never seen you so upset. Please. Maybe I can fix it and maybe I can’t, but at least I’d like a chance to try.”

  “It’s not something you can fix. It’s about Marcus.”

  “What’s he done?” he growls.

  “Nothing. He’s not done anything. It’s not him, it’s me. I don’t know what it is about the guy. Nobody ever made me feel like he does. And now he’s not going away, and I don’t think I can handle it.”

  Asher frowns. “I didn’t know you had it that bad. I mean, I knew you liked him, but I didn’t know how serious it was. I can’t fault you for it. I’d rather eat my own liver than admit it, particularly in front of Gwen, but the guy is stunning. There’s no denying that.”

  “What? No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, he is stunning, and I do like him, and I’d like to… you know. Well, I’m not sure, actually. I probably wouldn’t. I just feel like less of a person when he’s around. I know it’s not his fault, but I can’t help resenting him for that, and that makes me feel even worse about myself.”

  “What? Ok. You’re going to have to talk me through that. I thought you liked the guy.”

  “I do like him. Well, no, I don’t. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Is it hard to explain because it’s complicated, or because you don’t like it?”

  I have to think about that. “Because I don’t like it.”

  Asher sighs. “This is going to be no fun at all, is it? Come on, Quinn. Better out than in.”

  “Well, I think he’s really good looking. And, you know, perfect. He’s not perfect like you’re perfect, though.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Are you going to hear me out or not?”

  “Sorry. It’s just kinda hard to hear you call me perfect and not want to check your temperature.”

  “If you’re not going to listen, then I’m not going to talk.”

  “Ok. You’re right. My bad. Carry on. Please.”

  “He is always so self-contained. Everything about him is neat and precise. He’s dossing around on a camp bed in a goddamn hallway, and still he manages to look impeccable at all times. Never a hair out of place or a loose button or crumbs on his uniform. I wake up in the morning and look a damn fright, and he’s all perfect.”

  “That might have to do with you spending half the night rolling around the sheets with two people who love you, while he’s lying in his cot all on his lonesome. You could try asking Gwen not to muss your hair, but I’m not sure it would work. She’d probably forget, and it’d probably be your fault for being so damn distracting.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Nope. You look a mess in the morning. So does Gwen. Warms the cockles of my heart to see the both of you like that. It’s been damn hard not being able to, you know. Not properly, anyway. I’m happy that you guys aren’t having to go without. And I’m deliriously happy t
hat when we do what we do, not one of us is worried about breaking a nail in the process. Dunno about you, but I like the way things are with us. It’s enough of a hassle having to be so damn quiet, what with the goon outside the door, without having to worry about what we look like afterwards. Or during.”

  “I guess so.”

  He sighs. “But that’s not really the issue. Marcus does look impeccable at all times. You don’t. That’s true. But it’s a reflection on the kind of people you are. He prioritizes being impeccable at all times. You don’t. And maybe he needs to; it’s not as if he’s got a great deal else going on for him. He is not precisely likeable. Maybe he just learnt to capitalize on the assets he was born with, rather than expand their range.”

  “I feel like a lummox next to him. I know I shouldn’t be comparing myself to him, but it’s hard not to. I mean, we’re stuck together in the same office doing the same job. And he’s so damn perfect, and I’m not. I like him and detest him in roughly equal measures, and I like him a lot. But it’s not his fault that he makes me feel like that, so I feel worse for detesting him.”

  “So you’re kicking yourself for feeling bad? That sounds healthy.”

  “You’d be the expert on that,” I snap. “Oh, gods, I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re right. I’m pretty good at that kind of thing. And I can tell you that it’s not healthy. But there’s something else I’d rather tell you, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  “Out with it.”

  “You’re saying he makes you feel bad and it’s not his fault. I’m not so sure about that.”

  “He’s never said a nasty word to me. He’s hardly said anything.”

  “He doesn’t have to say anything to make you know what he thinks. He might not be articulating his disapproval, but he’s showing it. Every time he wrinkles his perfect nose at you, you know he’s disapproving. And you like him, so that disapproval is cutting.”

  “I can’t be angry at him just because he doesn’t like me.”

  “No, but you can be angry at him for being cowardly and underhanded about it. If he came out and said what his problem is, you could do something about it. Maybe you could hash it out, maybe you could decide he’s being unreasonable and tell him to fuck off. Instead, he’s doing just enough to let you know that he has a problem, but not enough to give you the opportunity to react or respond. It’s fucking crafty, and supremely uncool.”

  “Maybe he’s not saying anything because he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

  “I don’t buy that. I don’t buy that the guy can be so self-possessed as to be virtually inhuman yet be unable to stop pulling faces when he sees something he doesn’t like. Quinn, you know I love you, right?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “One of the reasons I love you is that you’re a good person. You would only hurt someone by mistake or because they didn’t leave you any other choice. You actually care about people, and you do something about it. You don’t just say you care. You live it.”

  “Well, it’s rather hard not to care when people’s feeling are shoved in your face all the time.”

  “No, that’s not it. You could be aware of people’s feelings and enjoy watching them hurt. You’re genuinely a good person. Better than me. Better than Gwen, in that respect; she can be downright vindictive. But because you’re a good person, you tend to see the goodness in people, even when there isn’t much of that to see. You tend to assume that other people also only hurt people by mistake, or when they have no choice. I love that in you, and I don’t want it to go away. I like the fact that the world you live in is a little bit nicer than mine. But it scares me, too. It makes you vulnerable to people who hurt people for shits and giggles.”

  “I think you’re prone to thinking the worst of Marcus because you don’t like him, and you’re reading too much into this. If he wanted to hurt me, he could have done a lot more. I think he just doesn’t think much of me, and he’s entitled to that. He has high standards and I don’t meet them. I can’t fault him that.”

  “While you think that, his opinion will continue to hurt you. And I can’t do anything about it. I can’t change your mind for you. Having the guy around is making you feel bad, and he’s going to stay on, and I can’t do anything about that either. And I want to get over there and hug you so bad right now, and I can’t even do that. I’m powerless to help or comfort someone I love, and that’s just another item on the long list of things I’m powerless about. Gods, when is this going to end?”

  “I don’t know.” I sit next to him on the ATR. There’s not enough room and it’s damn uncomfortable, but it makes me feel better.

  When I get it together enough to trust myself in public, I head over to Gwen’s office. Marcus gives me a pointed look when I get there, but I manage to ignore it, or at least to pretend that I can ignore it. I spend the rest of the afternoon doing my focusing exercises. I get a fierce headache as a result, but I figure that if I can focus through this, I can focus through anything, and that makes me feel better. All the same, I’m glad when the day is over and we get home.

  We huddle together on our beds, whispering so Marcus can’t hear us. The simple fact of having to do that is driving Gwen up the wall.

  “This is ridiculous. Just ridiculous. And we’ve got to put up with it indefinitely?”

  While she mutters her rant, Asher’s looking oddly blank. He doesn’t say anything until she’s finally ran out of steam. When he speaks, he sounds very calm, and very distant.

  “I hate the guy. You know I do. But he has a point.”

  “What?”

  “He’s cherrypicking his data, for sure. But we could do a lot more to keep you safe. And you do seem to forget what this is all about. That it’s not a game.”

  “What exactly are you saying?”

  “I don’t know. That I wish things were different. That we had more control over our own lives. Marcus is not the problem; he’s a symptom. He’s just another thing we have no control over. Same as the threats on your life. Same as plenty of other stuff.”

  “So you’re going to roll over and take it?”

  “What other options do I have? This is not my first choice. Hell, none of this is my choice. I’m just along for the ride.”

  “Ok. So what would you have us do?”

  “I don’t know anymore. We seem to be running out of tolerable options. We couldn’t leave here now, even if we wanted to. Well, I couldn’t. You could. I’m assuming you still want to stick with me. That’s rather presumptuous. I’ve hardly been keeping up my end of the bargain.” He says that perfectly calmly, but I can sense the rising panic in him.

  Gwen snorts in response. “You do realize you’re being absurd, right?”

  “I will add that to the list of my failings. I trust you to let me know if the situation changes.”

  “I have no idea what the hell you are on about or where this is coming from, but it isn’t helping.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He barely says another word until we finally fall asleep.

  May

  It takes two more weeks for Asher’s full casts to be removed and replaced with shorter ones that go up to his knees. He doesn’t tell us beforehand; he just turns up to Gwen’s office with the new casts on, beaming.

  “Lookit! I can bend my knees now! Though it hurts like a bastard. The medics have written me a program of exercises for my upper legs. If things go according to plans, I should be able to start walking with support rails sometime soon-ish.”

  Gwen is ecstatic. “This is so great! You should have told me about it. I would have come with you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise. You like it?”

  “Of course I like it! It’s great!”

  “If I’d only broken one leg, I’d be on crutches now, but with two it’s a bit more complicated. They reckon neither leg can take all my weight, so it’s going to be a while yet. But I can get myself on and off th
is damn thing all on my own, if I’m careful. I can get away from you if I get the urge.”

  “Pfft. I’d only track you down and make you pay for it. Love, this is great, but I have to warn you: if you overdo it and hurt yourself, I shall be very cross at you.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. I’m not that brave. I need to get Skip to put a bucket seat on this thing, then I can pick you up and carry you around on my lap. Knight on a white charger whisking away his lady love, and all of that.”

  “That sounds nice. I rather look forward to being on your lap,” purrs Gwen.

  I’m glad I’m not as fair as Asher. His blushes are pretty damn obvious. Then again, so is Gwen.

  This is such a huge milestone in his recovery, it seems impossible that anything or anyone could ruin this moment. Yet Marcus manages to. With the usual half-smile on his face, he asks: “So, you’re not able to walk yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not even with crutches?”

  “Nope.”

  “How long for?”

  “Dunno yet.”

  “That must be difficult. Then again, it must be great for you to be regaining a level of independence. I mean, you will be able to go to the head all on your own. That’s quite an achievement.”

  “Bless you. You remind me of my old mom. That’s just what she used to tell my siblings. Only they were about 18 months old at the time.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought it must be quite a relief. It must have been a concern to you to expose your wife to, you know, certain private needs.”

  “Yes, it’s been horrifying. Prior to this debacle, my wife had no idea that I pooped. We’d only been married for four years, after all. I was hoping to keep it from her indefinitely.”

  “I just thought it must be nice not to be a burden to your wife, particularly given as she’s the only one working at present.”

  “What can I tell you? We have an odd relationship. If she had two broken limbs, I’d probably insist that she stays home until they’re mended. And I might spend some time looking after her, too. I blame my parents. They didn’t bring me up right. Awfully Terran, you know. All that ‘for better and for worse, in sickness and in health’ guff.”