by Robin Banks
Gwen’s voice is perfectly calm as she says “I should have killed that fucker.”
“I don’t understand. What happened to Asher?”
“You’ve heard how Marcus was talking.”
“Yes, he said a few things to me, too.”
Gwen wheels around to stare at me.
“I’m ok,” I reassure her. “He just came out with a lot of mean stuff. Playground stuff, really. So I was wrong about him, and your instincts were right, and he was an asshole all along.”
“What he said didn’t upset you?”
“It upset me that he wanted to say it, because it means that I was wrong about him. But that he said it doesn’t make it truth. Just makes him an asshole.”
“So he missed,” sighs Gwen. “This is bad, though. Real bad.” Her anger seems to be ebbing, getting replaced by an urgency bordering on panic. “We need to get the hell out of here. Now.”
Now I’m starting to panic too. “Go where? Why? How?”
“We can think about that later. But we cannot stay here. That’s a given.”
"I have no idea what’s going on!” I wail.
“This isn’t the time or the place to fill you in. We need to get out of here. We’re not safe. He’s not safe.”
I don’t know how, but we manage to drag him down the stairs and put him on his ATR. I’m still struggling with my balance and Gwen’s one-armed, the stairs are narrow and uneven and tortuous, but somehow we get there. I keep thinking I will throw up again, but I manage not to. Gwen sits gingerly on Asher’s lap and guides the ATR.
“I need you to pack your bag now. Ours too. Warm clothes. Quickly. We’ll have to go the long way round in this damn thing. We’ll meet you at the back of the kitchens.” And she drives off.
I stumble back up the stairs. In their room, Asher’s pack from his trip out-bubble is still lying in a corner of his cupboard. I cram a bunch of random clothes in there and run back down. The kitchen is next to the refectory. I don’t have the access codes for the service door, but there’s nothing stopping me getting through the serving hatch. The kitchen is pitch black, apart from the dim light coming through the hatch. I would not want to turn the lights on, even if I knew where the switch was, but the place seems to be a maze of scattered obstacles. I don’t want to bang into anything and make too much noise, but this is taking forever. I also realize that I don’t know where the exit is. I can guess which wall it’s on, but that’s about it. I’ve just banged my shin for the umpteenth time into a sharp corner when a door opens not far from me, illuminating my way. Gwen’s face peers through. “Hurry it along, pet. Time’s a-wasting.”
I never realized this, because I never thought about it, but the kitchen has its own exit out of the campus. It makes sense, of course, for taking deliveries and disposing of waste. Anyway, we’re outside, in the faint light of the town. That doesn’t reassure me.
“Where are we going? Why are we going?”
“ATR hub. Tell you as we go.”
She climbs back on Asher’s lap and we make our way down the dark, cobbled streets. It’s hard for us to be quiet. Asher’s ATR’s faint humming sounds incredibly loud in the silence of the night. Thankfully there is nobody to hear us. The outskirts of town are purely residential, always dead at night. The ATR hub is right against the bubble, so we can get there without going through the business district. In the old days, I’ve walked that route many a time coming back from town at an inappropriate time of night.
As there’s nobody in sight, I dare to whisper. “Why the ATR hub?” Talking must be ok, because Gwen answers.
“Only place we can spend the night. Way too cold outside without equipment. We wouldn’t last till morning. And we need to make a plan, and make it fast.”
“But why are we going?”
“We’re not in a position to withstand any more attacks. We just aren’t fit to. Marcus was assigned to protect us. After what he did to Asher, we can’t trust him anymore. So I don’t know who we can trust. I don’t know if we can trust anybody. I need to think. We need to think.” Her face drops in horror. “Three against four? If they wanted superiority in numbers… Was he actually in on this?”
We stumble on into the night. The way seems endless, much farther than I remember it, though maybe it’s because I’m drifting in and out of time. Everything around me keeps fading and getting brighter and fading again. I just want to lie down and go to sleep in the road, and everything will be ok. But Gwen keeps pushing the ATR on and she’s all I know right now, so I keep following her.
When we get to the hub it’s clearly shut. I look at Gwen but she seems unfazed. She leads us to the lot behind the hub, where the ATRs are parked.
“What are we doing?” My mouth feels vague and spongy.
“Empty ATRs are parked open. The back, I mean. They leave the cargo area open so people know they are empty and don’t break in. Quiet now.”
We walk past the dark rows of the ATRs. Inside many of them I can see faint lights, and hear the noise of small groups of people. We reach an ATR that, to me, looks like any other one, when Gwen stops and raises a hand to silence me. After listening for a bit, she nods. “Ok. Get in.”
Asher’s ATR barely negotiates the step into the ATR cargo compartment. Asher gets jolted so violently that he cries out, even though he’s still knocked out.
“Who were those people? In the other ATRs”? I whisper.
She shrugs. “Street kids, drunks, prostitutes, addicts, wire headers. Anyone who needs a place to do something they shouldn’t do. They tried to stop them getting in here, but they realized it was cheaper and less trouble to let it happen. Not much can damage an ATR.”
Gwen opens up the pack and lays some of our clothes in the corner of the ATR, making a nest for us. We lift Asher off his ATR and we snuggle in a heap, Asher between us, clothes piled on top of us.
“I should have packed some bedding.”
“No, you did good. Can sleep under a coat. Real hard to walk around in a blanket.”
“But why are we here?” My voice sounds thin and whiny and I can’t help that.
“We weren’t safe at the Academy. We haven’t been for ages; that last attack just brought it home to me. The one person assigned to protect us turned on Asher. That was deliberate. He’s been trying to split us up all along. I don’t know why. I guess that he wanted me on that damn tube so bad, he was willing to break Asher just to get me there.”
“But he didn’t touch him!”
“He didn’t have to. And if he had, either I would have killed him or he would have had to kill me. Why did they want me on the tube so bad?”
“Whatever they want you up there for, it doesn’t feel right.”
“And how far does it go? Were the attacks and that shit with Marcus connected? Marcus was assigned by Colonel Darrington. So was he in on it, too? Was Marcus following orders?”
“This makes no sense. Why would the Colonel want to hurt Asher? Asher is their floating whizzkid.”
“I’m not so sure he is, or ever was. And anyway, in the Patrol everyone’s disposable. Ask Asher about that. I guess whatever the hell they wanted was more important to them than his work. I don’t know. I don’t get it. I need to think my way through this but nothing makes sense. We don’t have long and we need a plan, but I don’t know what we’re planning for.” She rubs her forehead. “And Asher’s out of commission. Fuck. I need his brain. We need him functional.”
“I still don’t understand what happened.”
“Asher is the strongest person I know. He’s also broken. He has things inside of him that haunt him. He does damn well every day to keep them under control, but it’s an effort. The fact that he does so well doesn’t mean that it’s easy. A lot of his effort goes in not listening to the voices in his head, or not letting what they’re saying influence his behavior.
“You can’t hurt people with lies. Or truths they accept, really. Someone accuses you of something absurd, you can shrug it right of
f and see them for what they are. Assholes. But half-truths can hurt you horribly, particularly if you fear them. If your ego depends on hoping that certain things are not true, while being terrified that they are. If someone throws that kind of thing in your face, proves to you that your fears were right all along, that hurts. And Asher’s fears are valid.” I flinch at her statement, but she carries on.
“He’s got all kinds of issues. Has had them for years, and maybe they’ll never go away. Lately he’s been taking up our resources and limiting our opportunities. I don’t hold that being on a tube would make me any safer, and it’d probably make me extremely unhappy, but he’s removing that option. And he’s removing that option because his injuries are limiting him, just like his old injuries do. He’s always had an issue about that, as if we didn’t all have scars. As if he took more than he could give. As if my life without him could be half as good.”
She strokes his face. “And now that asshole’s gone and done gods-know what to his psyche.” She turns to me with a frown. “Did you feel it?” I nod. “Was it bad?” I nod again.
“Horrible. Fractured.”
“And the awful truth of this is that we can’t afford this right now. We can’t afford for this crisis to hold us back. We can’t coddle him until he’s better. And that’s going to feed into his original fear, so he might never get over it.” She chortles. “It’s brilliant, really. A self-feeding loop. If he planned it all along, it’s ingenious. I should have offed the bastard.”
“So what do we do now?”
She stares into space for a few minutes, then she turns to look at me. “I can only think of one thing, and you’re not going to like it. But you have to hear me out. Ok?” I nod.
“Asher’s got whacked on a bruise. He got whacked so hard that the pain could incapacitate him indefinitely. So we have to take the bruise out.”
I’m starting to think I know where she’s heading, and it horrifies me. “You want me to get in his head? I can’t do that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. I don’t know what to do and wouldn’t do it if I could.”
“I’m not asking you to brainwash him. I just need you to show him something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Asher has a picture of himself inside himself. It terrifies him, so he hides from it. He thinks it’s a true likeness, and that if only we could see it we would find him wanting and reject him, because he finds himself wanting and rejects himself. So we have to put another picture in there. A better likeness. Something explaining why we love him.” She locks eyes with me. “You love him too, don’t you? You love him because he shines, even when he’s shining through cracks.”
“Of course I do.”
“So we just have to show him that. We have to show him where our love comes from, and that we love him because, not despite of.”
I nod. I’m still finding it hard to think straight through my splitting headache, but this doesn’t sound so bad.
“So you connect with me, and I show you my picture of Asher. You add your own picture. And when he comes to, you push those pictures as hard as you can at him. Either it’ll work, or it won’t.”
“How long do we have?”
“How long do you need? This is not a safe place. I can let him rest or I can bring him round whenever. I went through the med bay and helped myself to a bunch of goodies.”
We sit in a triangle in the dubious privacy of a dirty ATR. I hold their hands, Asher’s lifeless in mine. Gwen rests her spare hand on his, holding a loaded syringe at the ready. I close my eyes and focus my psi-bility on Gwen as hard as I can through the fuzziness in my head. She relaxes into the connection, and as a veil of sorrow tears she starts to pour out her Asher, how she feels about him, the combination of pride and admiration and sheer wonder at his existence. Her happiness at his happiness, her sadness at his sadness, her wonderment at his love for her. How everything about him glows with marvel. How much better the world is for him being in it. The constant yearning to be with him, and the constant amazement at the fact that he allows it, that the universe allows it, even though it also feels so absolutely right. How thankful his existence makes her. It’s a near-religious awe.
I hold the feelings, the pulsating ball they form, and add what I can of mine. They echo hers but don’t seem half as bright, or half as unrestrained. How I admire him. How I care for him. How grateful I am that he cares for me. And when I think I have it all together, and I’m not sure I can add any more without dropping it all, I open my eyes and nod at her, and she jabs him.
He comes around fast, jerking from unconsciousness to anguish, and while he’s still reeling I push the feeling-ball into him, and watch his eyes open in shock. Whatever interface we have is broken. For a moment, we’re all together, skinless, wrapped in our feelings for each other, and he does what Asher always does and gives back. He gives back to us his love for us, which is deeper than either of ours because it encompasses and overcomes the fear of inevitable loss. Then he lets out a wracking sob, Gwen throws herself into his arms, and the contact is broken but the moment is not.
I’m not sure how long we sit there, dazed and enveloped in what we’ve just experienced. It’s been one of the most wonderful moments in my life but I feel as if my forehead is splitting. The back of my head was already splitting. The splits are pushing towards each other and I think if they join up they will blow out a hole through my head, so I shield up as tight as I can to stop it getting worse. I’m exhausted, happy, hurting more than I ever hurt before, and blissfully psi-blind. Nothing going in, nothing going out. The guys must be lost in their own experiences too, I guess, because the sound of someone clearing their throat makes us all jump.
“Sorry, guys. Not disturbing?” Aiden is peering through the ATR’s half-opened door. I’d think I’m hallucinating, but Gwen is as shocked as I am.
“What the hell? How did you find us?” Gwen is aghast.
“Asher’s ATR signal. Put a tracker on him when we built it. Just in case. Has mapping link to my terminal. Couldn’t find you. ATR was out. Thought I’d follow. Deleted programs and records before I left. No traces. Brought a gift.” And he lifts a small box, clearly heavy, up into view. “Spare battery. May be useful.”
I look at him, acting as if this was a completely normal situation, and I start giggling. Asher cracks up next and Gwen follows. Soon enough we’re all rolling around laughing uncontrollably, while Aiden is still standing politely by the door, holding the box. Every time I look at him, I start laughing again. By the time we manage to stop I’ve got cramps in my stomach.
“Come on up, bud. The more the merrier,” says Asher. “Where the fuck are we, anyway?”
“Oh, yeah. ATR hub. We kind of kidnapped you. Sorry, love.” Gwen hugs him while Aiden joins our huddle.
“No bother. How long was I out for?”
“Two, three hours. Hard to tell. Probably what, three hours till daybreak now? We have no plan and no supplies and no idea what’s going on anymore, either. I just legged it.”
“Passed Captain Fancypants spitting blood. Literally. Problem?”
Gwen tenses up. “We are all hurt. I’m cut. She’s concussed. We got ambushed, three guys. And then Marcus turned on Asher. It didn’t seem safe to stay put. But I don’t know what any of it meant, and who’s behind it. I can’t make any sense of it.”
“Right-o,” nods Aiden.
I don’t get this guy. “Aren’t you even a little bit surprised? Baffled?”
“Eh. Trust you guys. You needed out, you got out. Now what?”
“We can’t stay here come daybreak. They’ll start loading up the ATRs. We need somewhere to hide. And we need a medic. Can’t hide and get medical help. That just doesn’t stack.”
“What are we hiding from, exactly?” Asher frowns.
Gwen sighs. “Potentially everybody. The last attack was organized. No way three individuals just happened to decide to have at us at the same time. And if Mar
cus turned on you intentionally, which I don’t doubt, there’s no knowing who else is in on this. Whatever this is. Oh, this is exasperating!”
Asher pats her leg. “We’ll get there. We just need more data.”
“But to get that we need more time. And to get that we need to find somewhere we can go. Somewhere safe we can get to without being seen.”
“With me rolling around in that,” he points at the ATR, “and her one of about three dark-skinned people in this damn town? We’re hardly inconspicuous. You could put a bag over her head, but you can’t hide me. I’m the weak point, again.” Gwen glances at him in some alarm, but he smiles at her. “I’m just being pragmatic. If it was just you three, you could slink off somewhere. With me along, no chance of that.”
“Where would we go, anyway?”
“There are some abandoned buildings by the mine depot,” I suggest.
Gwen shakes her head. “Too much security. We’d get caught in no time.”
“Would that be a bad thing? Jail may be safe. And they have medics.” I’m worried about her arm.
Gwen shudders. “We’d get split up. And stuck there for them to get at us. Whoever the hell they are.”
“The cellar at the Peacock is dead during the week, but I bet it’s locked up tight.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem” Gwen cracks her fingers.
“You can’t break their stuff!”
“Do you take me for an amateur?”
Asher interjects. “Do we want to be in a cellar, anyway?”
Gwen pulls a face. “Better than the street.”
“And the ATR?”
“We could toss it. Carry you.”
I have an idea. “Why can’t we stay in one of these ATRs? Hide with the cargo, get taken to one of the mines? At least we’d put some distance behind us.”
Aiden shakes his head. “Can’t do that. Get spaced.” We all stare at him. “ATR drivers open the cargo doors out-bubble. Kill off any vermin.” Gwen looks horrified. “Sorry. Drove ATRs some. Before the Academy. Miners’ trick. Safer than confronting boarders.”
Gwenn is still staring at him. “Some of my friends went off to ride the ATRs!” she wails.