Daughter of Mars #81 | (A Better Life Part 3)
Osebi put a hand on Risa’s shoulder before she could stand. “I seein dat look in yer eyes again, child. De not carin’ ‘bout livin’ or dyin’ look. Tis a dangerous road to be walkin’.”
“I’m not trying to die,” whispered Risa. She let the strength out of her legs, staring at dark fingers on her colorless skin. “Someone has to answer for Pavo.”
“An’ someone ‘ad ta answer for your old man.” He squeezed, though his attempt at being comforting hurt.
“Ow.” She put a hand atop his. “You’re too strong for your own good.”
“Indeed.” He grinned. “We ‘ave dat in common, though your strength be in da heart.”
I don’t feel strong. I feel broken. “I don’t know anymore.” The laughter of distant children made her present surroundings feel wrong. “What are we doing? Can we really make a difference with bombs?”
He exhaled, and let his arm fall to his side. “You worried ‘bout windin’ up like Gen. Tis not my place to question the great thinkers. I am a sword. Da Corporates killed all I evah held dear. I will fight them tooth an’ claw till the dirt take me.”
She regarded him from her seat, admiring the hard-cut muscles visible through his stained tank top. He didn’t look any older to her than the day she’d first met him almost fourteen years ago. Perhaps he had warmed to the frightened little girl she used to be to fill the pit of his own loss, though he had never one mentioned what happened. She’d often wondered if he had a wife or kids, but never pried. A smile poked through the black cloud of sorrow at the person most like an older brother.
“Thanks. I’ll try to keep my head on.”
Osebi rejoined Ralek at their table. “See that you do.”
She stood and walked out of the common area, making her way through the safehouse towards Garrison’s office. When the command area staff all stopped to stare at her, she returned a confused glance until noticing the chill air had left her nipples prominent through the thin cloth of her sleeveless tee. Someone wolf-whistled.
“What?” She halted, facing the room with her arms out to the sides. “You’ve all seen me in the shower? It’s cold in here.”
“Uh,” said Kendall, picking at his dull-crimson jumpsuit. “Ain’t that. It’s weird seein’ you outta your armor.”
Risa’s augmented hearing picked up a whisper of “she almost looks human” from a woman operating a comm terminal fifty meters away. She looked straight at her, sighed, and power-walked through the glow of the tactical map hovering over the holo-table to an archway at the far side. No matter what I do, everyone stares at me. They’re either scared shitless of what they think I’ll do to them, or they gawk whenever I act ‘normal.’ She stopped in the shadow of a rock-hewn corridor, blocked from view, and breathed into her hands. It’s just the screen bunnies. Anyone who gets their hands dirty knows.
She plodded to the old, familiar door with the taped-up window. Part of her wanted to walk in and curl up on her old cot. Garrison had left it in place behind the hospital partition, as though she’d never left. This room, more than her private one on Death Row, felt like home. The cold door handle felt enough like a gun to remind her why she’d come to talk to him, and rendered her fond memories bittersweet. Four inches open, the door squeaked in the same place it always did. Garrison’s chair creaked.
“It’s me.” Risa poked her head around the side of the door, expecting to see a weapon aimed at the door.
Garrison relaxed, letting go of the sub-gun she knew he had under his desk. Risa slipped in, closing the door behind her, and eyed the teal and aluminum curtain surrounding her childhood ‘bedroom.’ A sudden urge to curl up there left her standing still, staring at it. For years, she’d found the vents more comforting, less open―less vulnerable. Now, this place seemed more welcome than her private space. I feel safer here. She turned her gaze to Garrison and a shiver of vulnerability ran down her body.
He rushed from his seat, rounded the desk, and crossed the room in three strides. She glanced at his chest when he grasped her shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” He leaned back and forth, trying to get her to look at him. “You’re out of your armor, and I don’t like that look.”
“So?” She stared at his chest.
“The thing’s been like your security blanket ever since Maris approved the purchase.” He chuckled. “I never see you out of it.”
She ducked eye contact, no longer able to resist the urge to cling to him. “Pavo’s gone.” Risa let her guard down in the arms of the only person left she trusted.
Garrison maintained grim silence for a few minutes; something in his eyes changed. The concern in his face―more than a mere commander should show for an underling―chipped at her resentment toward the MLF. For a brief time, she felt happy he’d found her.
“How’d it happen?”
Risa took a breath and a step back. “They grabbed him when I was at Arden. Looked organized. Military probably. I think it was C-Branch, but I’ve got nothing to prove it. Tamashī dug up helmet-cam video that―” Her throat closed.
When Garrison pulled her close, the dam broke. Her quiet sobs muffled into his shoulder. At the sound of someone walking by outside, she gathered her composure in case whoever it was barged in. Risa held her breath until her boosted hearing no longer detected footsteps.
“I loved him.” She held back another wave of grief.
He nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You… knew?” Her mouth gaped.
Smile-wrinkles formed around Garrison’s eyes, though his face remained solemn. “To people who’ve come up in the intelligence industry, the signs were obvious.”
“Why didn’t anyone warn him?” She clenched her hands to fists.
“We had no indication anyone was surveilling him. Pavo wasn’t in a position to be of any intelligence value to either side. At first, we thought someone was trying to exploit your feelings for him, but if that were the case, they wouldn’t have killed him.”
Risa broke away from him and paced. “He was shot while running. They underestimated him.”
“Running?” Garrison pursed his lips in thought. “Perhaps their operation went south and they decided to cut losses and vanish.”
“I’m going to find them.” She held her head high. “I’m going to give Maris what he wanted… an assassin.”
“Risa…” He reached for her cheek.
“No.” She recoiled, turning her back on him. “The reason the government keeps doing this is because they keep getting away with it.”
“Risa, hear me out.” He tugged on her arm until she looked at him. “I can’t lose you. I know you’re hurting over Pavo, but I’m asking you not to do the same thing to me.”
Her mouth opened to speak. After four seconds, she closed it. “Why?”
He blinked. “What do you mean ‘why?’ The why is because I don’t want you to run off and get yourself killed. You might find it hard to believe, but I care about you. You’re” ―Garrison looked to the side and down―“like a daughter to me.”
“If you care so much, why did you let them do this to me? Why do you keep letting them send me out there?” She kept her voice quieter than her emotion wanted it to be. “A father should keep his daughter safe.”
A hint of a smile formed. “You’d have been happier playing with dolls and makeup?”
She stared into his eyes for a long pause before looking at the floor. “That little girl’s dead.” Risa started to turn away, but froze when he grasped her hand. “I… I don’t even know who to be angry at any more. I can’t tell who killed her.” Memories of old screaming matches haunted her. “Maybe I killed myself.”
“You’re alive. I’m sorry this wasn’t the perfect life. Heck, it’s not even normal. I wish I could’ve given you even an ordinary life, but…”
“It’s not your fault. I’d probably have been dead by now if you didn’t find me. Street kids don’t make it to their twenties.”
“When you raced off to Arden, I had the worst feeling.” He slouched. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. Imagine what went through my mind when you weren’t answering vids.”
Anger swelled, stomping down her guilt. “Is that why you’ve been prepping my replacement?”
“Replacement?” He leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I could never replace you.”
“Kree,” she whispered, leaning close. “She told me you’re teaching her how to shoot.”
“Shoot?” Garrison tilted his head down, raising both eyebrows. “Teaching the girl how to handle a weapon is a far cry from sending her out in the field. I don’t for a minute think you’re Cat-6, but that sounds paranoid.”
She wandered across the room and sat on her old cot, surrounded by scraps of plasfilm she’d tacked to the wall over the years. Pictures of actors, musicians, and a few adverts with images of ‘normal families’ surrounded her. Her gaze settled on a holo-bar the size of a finger atop three metal cases serving as a nightstand. Military markings, black on bare steel, read: ‘Grenade, High Explosive, Fragmentation.’
Sensing her looking at it, the little device activated and created a transparent image of a smiling eleven-year-old Risa holding a ballistic pistol. Seconds later, it shifted to her sitting in Garrison’s lap with an adult’s helmet on. The light-ghost of her past dissipated as she looked away.
“You taught me how to shoot too.”
Garrison halted at the end of the partition, the weight of his lean caused the metal feet to scrape. “I remember you had fun. It was a game to you then… before all you wanted to do was find the people who killed Voronin.”
She clasped the edge of the cot and looked up at him, feeling much like a child asking her dad for help. “Please don’t let them have her.”
“I’m not looking to replace you.”
Risa stood pointing at his chest. “If one scrap of ‘ware finds its way into that little girl, I’ll never forgive you. She deserves a better life than what I had.” Her arm fell. She glanced away. “Living like a vermin in the sewer, killing people, not knowing if any day is going to be my last one before I get arrested or killed.”
Garrison stepped back as if slapped. His lip quivered, and he seemed incapable of looking at her.
What’s wrong with him. Is that… guilt?
Two rapid knocks came from the opening door. General Maris walked in. “Garrison, a moment please.”
Risa’s glare hardened at him. All traces of vulnerability vanished. She stared at Garrison, teasing at the idea of killing Maris right there for interrupting them.
“Moment, Sir.” Garrison wandered to his desk, wiping at his face.
“What the hell do you want,” asked Risa.
General Maris pointed at her. “You’re dangerously close to―”
“You’re dangerously close to me not giving a fuck anymore.” Her response, cold and calm, stalled him in his tracks.
“Lieutenant…” Maris set his hands on his hips. “We may be able to offer some assistance in your endeavor to strike back at the ones responsible for Officer Aram’s abduction and death.”
“What?” Garrison whirled. “You’re not serious?”
Risa blinked. Every time I ask for help, he says they can’t spare it. Something’s wrong.
“In order to do so, we would need to expand our intelligence gathering capabilities.”
Oh. He just wants me to do something. “What’s the op? I’m guessing for once my needs line up with your wants.”
“Sir.” Garrison walked over, devoid of his previous emotion. “Her operation at the Benton facility netted us sixteen new field operatives. Despite its appearance as sound, you refused assistance. Now, you’re saying we’ll support her from-the-hip plan for revenge? ”
“We cannot risk making enemies of neutral corporations,” said Maris. “The incident with Pavo is more of a threat to us than you’re aware of.”
“They’re not neutral. BMC used slave labor. They’re not better than the ACC.” Risa crossed her arms. “What do you need me to do?”
General Maris’s expression warmed. “Nothing dangerous this time, I promise.”
She squinted. “I’ll be in my room.”
After a brief, longing glance at her old bed, Risa brushed past the General. She roamed the safehouse until she found Kree sitting with the other kids among unused bunks in one of the empty pods. They’d crowded around a jury-rigged holo-bar playing a Monwyn movie. Risa snuck in and sat at her side. Whatever Maris is planning, he looked too happy. He’s never smiled at me before. Kree looked over, grinned, and climbed into her lap.
“The wizard’s ‘bout to fight all the shade goblins,” whispered Kree. “It’s scary.”
Risa put an arm around the girl. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
Kree smiled through wild, black hair. “You’re not scared of nothin’.”
Her grip on the child tightened. “You’re right.”
Related posts:
Daughter of Mars #79 | (A Better Life Part 1)Daughter of Mars #80 | (A Better Life Part 2)Daughter of Mars #77 | (Breaking Eggs Part 1)
