Our stare down continued until I decided to be the bigger person. I saw victory in Spartan’s eyes.
He huffed.
Anyone else I’d have called petty, but Spartan? Every aspect of his life was win or die, conquer and divide, him against the world. For a long time – the first two hundred years of his life – he would have been justified. Now, not so much.
“I warned you, leaving was not possible.” He passed me a DEP - Disposable Electronic Pad – containing files.
“A job?” I shook my head. “No, I already told Ava I wasn’t taking on any more assignments.”
“General,” he said, using the childhood nickname only he called me. “You might have left base but you’re not out no matter how far you disappear,” he reiterated. “Besides, this is a gift. Call me sentimental.”
Pretentious fucker.
I hated him for so many things but in a way he was right; I couldn’t escape what I was. I might have escaped Carne and stolen some semblance of life for myself, but I still rifled through history and secrets. Searched for answers to age old questions that Spartan himself had hinted at.
He didn’t have to know where my plans led or that I had no interest furthering his endeavours as I had for nearly two decades now... I could smell fresh, suffocating dirt and see that same face, crouched low over me, breath hot over the cold earth.
But I’d hear him out. Just in case it suited my purposes.
“Who’s your sidekick,” I asked, resigned in my charade, eyeing the man behind Spartan. The smaller man backed against the wall like he wanted to disappear into it. The confrontation had him shaking in a fine, full body tremor. Body temp was high, with a sheen of sweat licking his collared shirt. The man was stressed; cortisol crawled up my olfactory senses, though he valiantly tried to hide it with a stoic facial expression. If a strained conversation got him this worried I didn’t know how he survived life without continuous stomach ulcers.
“Your contact,” Spartan told me, daring me to contradict him. I didn’t.
Spartan nodded slightly at my contact, prodding him forward.
“Jobe. Meet General.” Spartan nudged him in the back causing Jobe to stumble a little too close to me. As if I had a contagious disease he scuttled sideways like a crab. Spartan shook his head at such weakness and headed for the door then turned back to pin me with a glare. “Don’t kill him.”
Don’t kill him, he said. It’s like he didn’t even know me! Besides, I should wonder if Spartan was leaving him here simply because Jobe would learn enough to become a liability.
Jobe straightened. He was hoping Spartan was joking. He wasn’t. If I had to, I’d slit his throat without hesitation, it would be a cruelty to leave him to Spartan if it came down to it. That was a lesson well learned. Jobe had value it appeared, but that value had and expiry date. Spartan had expiry dates for everything.
I curled my lip in annoyance as the door closed behind him and turned to the pet he’d left behind.
“Fuck,” I spat. “What are you staring at?” I challenged. I wasn’t actually riled. I wasn’t particularly bothered by the man, but he didn’t need to know that. If keeping him as a contact lent me an ear on Spartan, I wouldn’t turn it away.
Jobe just stood there stunned in his lovely creased suit and tie, while I contemplated his potential use. He brushed his big knuckled hand over his tawny hair in nervousness, and then checked the time along his arm. Buckling under scrutiny never was a good trait in a person. Question was: would he be a resourceful handler for the time being, or a glorified postman?
Despite being stupid enough to allow Spartan his ignorance, I decided to give Jobe a fighting chance, though I could never allow myself to really trust the man. It wasn’t his fault, really. Jobe’s specialities had put him in Spartan’s path and even now I could see his mind whirring over the decisions he’d made to lead him here, to my door today.
I worried for similar reasons though mine hinged on a man who was capable of severe manipulations to render a lesson learned. But, then I should admit to myself: I had more than one of those in my life. I was so glad to know Spartan had chosen a man he knew I’d never consider anything more than a transient associate. He’d taken Carne into consideration. How… diplomatic of him.
Panic spiked at the thought of Carne closing in. His anger was blazingly white with heat. It hurt our connection. Cotton wool filled my mouth. While it was hurting and weakened I wanted to tear it out, strip it like stripping veins from muscle. Claw at it like a rabid mange. The link to him was repugnant, it sickened me, used me and deceived me. He cherished it.
I sat upon the arm of my couch and looked over my shoulder, waiting for Jobe to get over the stupor Spartan had him in.
“Sit Posty,” I encouraged, shaking the soul deep hurt. Burying it with other traumas.
“Posty?” Jobe enquired, confused. It worked and he crept closer.
“Postman. That’s your job isn’t it Jobe?”
“Well,” he considered. “I suppose that is one aspect of my position since any regional post offices are not equipped or trusted to deliver such classified material and I am available to travel between Onyxeal Base Camp and the city. But I am not a Post Man,” he told me suddenly indignant. “I am here to facilitate your contracts which includes diagnostics, tech support, travel arrangements and accompanying documents to get you through particular Burrows and/or internationally-”
“I don’t need a list, Posty. I know exactly what your job entails.” I waved him to a stop. “Take a seat,” I offered the shabby, sunken armchair across from me and not beside me.
“You were in Spartan’s unit?” Posty asked with what I thought to be a little awe.
“For a time.” I sat immobile, curious. My guard slipped slightly. I was still very much splintered in my presence. His brain clicked over and a grave wariness wafted from him thickly.
I re centered. Annoyed with myself.
I blinked, at a rate of fifteen per minute, I sat evenly, and I let my body language offer an open trustworthiness to assure him I was nothing out of the ordinary.
He weighed Spartan’s comment about my not killing him and wondered how much to question in case it got him good and dead.
“Spartan’s only words to me were not to piss you off,” he randomly spouted and laughed lightly as if inviting me to dismiss the foolishness of the statement.
I relaxed without showing it physically. Yeah, Team Leader didn’t want me any further off the radar, I thought cynically. My leaving camp was seen to be a break or holiday. Nothing permanent.
“Spartan’s a smart man. Sometimes,” I said.
“Scary man,” Jobe added. “I’ve heard stories about him. Never could have guessed I’d work with him. Never wanted to, if I was honest.”
“Scary,” I mused. Yes, I had a new found uneasiness around the giant but not because I was frightened. Fear, I knew from that man was a human reaction, one I could not allow. My disquiet stemmed from betrayal, something I was all too familiar with.
“If you don’t think that man’s scary, there’s something wrong with you,” Posty told me seriously, looking me up and down, trying to find that ‘wrongness’. I couldn’t decide if his observation led him to find the fault or if he allowed his brain to check it off as simply a quirk.
I didn’t want this job, let alone a tether to the life I’d escaped but I would take a hefty bet the DEP I’d been handed was a little treat snuck out of the closet on purpose to keep me in line, right where he wanted me.
Jobe flipped his organiser open along his wrist in a holographic display. My eyebrow rose. Not from the tech, from the presumptuous intent.
“I’ll need to ask your real name and any alias’. The contract, may require some travel and I’m sure General’s not your real name.”
I eyed him hard. I was loathe to give out such information and wouldn’t have even considered it if Spartan hadn’t been the one to drop him off, but I recited a few pertinent details.
&n
bsp; Name and exact origin: Unknown.
“Government Identity Interface input will hold under scrutiny. Reported as: Delilah Gracer, born 17 Martius 2938 C.E. The GII also has my rank listed as Major General. The other Alias is Lilah Gleeson. Although my primary VHI (Virtual Holo-Interface) Implant is logged through an account with that Alias, it bounces sporadically through twenty-five international funding trusts. Those can only be accessed through Mt Generals or LTGens so I can forward you simply the origin account instead of more.” Reciting that information slammed home the fact that I had only escaped as far as they allowed. They. Family.
“I thought…” he stumbled but thought better of commenting upon my rank or my blank stare. Rank meant little to me; it was simply a delineation in a Private Military Company. One I’d been indoctrinated into since I was a small child.
“I’ll leave you all my contact details. Call me day or night.
He thought me young. I did not feel young, but I was, compared to others like me. But, we all felt old when you’ve eagerly staunched one heart to beat but realised with the sinking of your own that it had yet to play trillions in its own melody. Nothing mattered really, whether you were on the good side or bad. That invisible line between the two was relative. Life was relative.
I let out a stale breath. You’re only as old as you feel.
“All right,” Jobe filled the awkward gap, confused. Was I babbling out loud my life’s philosophy? No, but I was ‘creeping’ him out.
“I’ll leave you to read through the specifics and await your call,” he handed me a card. I memorised the numbers before it reached me.
“No need.” I told him. He eyed me suspiciously but didn’t mention anything for fear of appearing foolish.
When I didn’t speak to reiterate he stood, in need of something to do, or eager to be out of my presence. I wasn’t quite sure. I did try not to nose around people’s minds and had execrated his as soon as I’d become fully aware of the thought insertions.
I was still too slow to notice when a thought was not my own.
“I’ll be off then.” He flicked the organiser neatly closed on his way out. I watched him leave, the ominous file heavy it the palm of my hand. I wondered about Spartan’s comment: call me sentimental. Was that comment meant to transfer some sort of affection?
“Argh,” I growled, disgusted with myself. Not just because I’d failed once again to notice the blurring of the line from myself, but an addict, I knew I’d comb through this file because I knew it was another proverbial crumb back to… Well back.
Excitement burned my gut like petrol, memories of being expelled into the world like exhaust on my mission.
But I’d make it wait. I treated the file as if it had its own will. Oh, I knew a stupid file wouldn’t get impatient if I made it wait but I enjoyed the idea. Yeah, I was nearly two weeks out from Onyxeal, into real life, and already after the fix I’d found while travelling.
I stalked off to the clean spray. Giving myself something to do, while I waited for my curiousness to eat at me. I had to be smart. Not let my excitement force me to be brash. Excitement was one emotion I clung to, my one hope.
I wished I had a real shower. With fresh water, hot enough to scald as it rushed over my thick skin. I missed the sensation of bubbled soft soap kneaded into my dense muscles and sweet scents tickling my nose.
Chapter Three
Carne.
Eupho was passed like candy in ‘Vince’s Vendetta’. The place was tinged in a blue light in an effort to stem the problem but it wasn’t too bad, despite the few lowies loitering about. It served a decent meal and the beds were relatively clean.
Those were the staples.
A few of the men sought out company while here. I never begrudged them their fun. Craving for touch came for those who worked in our business. I just wished every time we came here the bastards stopped trying to shove a plump arse, swathed in a tight dress onto my lap. I’d lost the lustre of politeness long ago. Now, I simply moved the interloper from my lap without interacting.
Her scowl might have been a pretty pout to someone else. Someone who couldn’t see her bio-light, that latched like slime instead of ichor.
“Yo Carne?” Cory asked of the dark corner. He pronounced my name Khaan.
I sat forward. I fought not to swallow the petite fundamental spark that had dulled in the recess of my psyche, shrinking away from me.
“You want another?” Cory nodded at my empty drink.
“Yeah, sure,” I answered and slid my glass across the table, landing precisely at his hand. The environment may be patently clear and predictable to me but I took very little notice of it.
She was on the wind and the connection was whisper thin - reedy and starved - but still there. Onyxeal, the institution I was bred to protect, now couldn’t be trusted. It hadn't protected Delilah and I hadn't foreseen that. Could never have imagined Onyxeal would fail me, when I had never failed it.
That failure meant more to me than I thought it would. It cut and severed something precious. Perhaps the tiniest strand still bearing the loyalty to my family.
An impulse to close the vault doors rushed me - a warning to protect what was mine. My muscles contracted in piloerection; a fearful reaction that made a cold person feel the wash of warm water or make a scared animal more impressive.
Onyxeal couldn’t be relied upon any longer.
My body agreed with my logic. Blood pooled and my heart was savagely perforated with such a fierce deliberation. I couldn’t undo the sepulchral action if used on her. It was ghastly to even think it, to give it life, but I had to risk it. Gamble on her.
I let the cold dark smother me again. Feeling. That was her domain. Not mine. Logically I knew I had to cut her off. Cut her completely and force her flaws to my bidding.
So I did.
Knifing her from me.
And I was bereft - before that soothing cool slipped like a shadow back over me and my resolve glinted with steel.
Cory stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, gaining the attention of the barmaid, then waved her over instead of simply ordering from the table menu.
Tight pants, not worn to entice but to work in comfortably moved stiffly next to Cory.
“Bessy Bear,” Cory played the wounded fool, throwing an arm around her smaller frame. “When are you going to marry me?”
“What ya havin?” Bessina ignored Cory but brushed off his arm.
“Just a beer, Bessina.” I said.
“You?”
“Bessy Bear,” Cory lamented. “You’re angry. Those little bear claws are coming out. You know how much I like it when-”
Bessy Bear became a Grizzly without a moment’s hesitation. “Don’t you Bessy Bear me one more time! You never called to say you were leaving – for eight months! And I find out that night you were too sick to get out of bed you actually had gone out and gotten blind rotten, filthy drunk with these idiots,” she waved her hands about including the men in my unit. “So, no more Bessy Bear. I’m not a damn toy for you to pick up when you feel like it.” Bessina snorted in disgust when Cory reached for her.
“Don’t. Just gimme your order and piss off.”
Cory winked at me. This sort of public display of attention and affection usually forced me to question my discreet relationship with Delilah. She may be uncomfortable by our needs the intrinsic bond coerced, but I had no such compunctions. Actually I had very little compunction. Cutting her off just now proved how cruel I could be.
The days of her freedom were coming to a close. I’d made it a priority to leave her as long as possible. I’d given her more than two decades already, but plans were in motion long before she’d even the notion of running. Her freedom was finite.
“Bessy Bear, my cuddle toy with claws.” Cory cuddled Bessina’s middle. It disturbed me.
“You pathetic bastard!” She growled but she was breaking as she tussled Cory’s hair. Hair she remembered being shorter eight months ago.
/>
“You love me Bessy Bear,” Cory stated almost seriously when he came to stand beside her, his fingers dancing upon her collarbone.
“You’re a total prat, you know that?” Bessina demanded.
“I know.”
“And you’re gonna make it up to me,” she told him.
“Anything,” Cory agreed.
“Good,” she said.
“Great,” Cory said. “Now run along wench and grab us some beers!” He swatted her arse more playfully than necessary.
“Fucking stupid, that’s what I am,” Bessina scowled but she spun around and trotted off with a smile.
“So, you bored yet?”
“We’ve been home for three days,” I said, my eyebrow raised. “You bored Cor?”
“Bessy will have my balls but… fuck yes.”
“We may have a job to do soon. Ven’s been tracking some odd intel. A few bids flying about, scratching for high end GMT on an Aug-Reality auction.” I tapped the table with rough fingertips I couldn’t recall not being calloused.
“GMT? You sure? We haven’t had nothing like that come up before.”
“Yes, Ven is sure. An auction to be held at week’s end. Ghost and Variant organs.”
“Shit.” Keota shook his head. Cory and my lieutenant Keota knew what it meant. Keota was a Variant and Cory human, but both felt the gravity pull at their gut all the same.
Genetic Manipulation Tech in its advanced stages was a myth to most, out of reach for others. But someone had put it up for grabs - and feelers had reached out to pay.
“Ven should have a name or a company for us soon. A day or two.”
“Better get some loving while I can tonight then huh? Or maybe I should tell her. I do like them claws,” Cory laughed out loud.
I just shook my head. Cory kept life interesting that was sure but I was glad there was only one of him. Keota was the silent type. Grunts here and there, followed you through fire and watched your back. Keota’s attention span lasted decades but Cory’s ability to focus down the scope for two straight minutes astounded me, considering he hardly sat still any other time.
Variant: A Sci-Fi Romance (Variant Trilogy Book 1) Page 2