"What is the nature of your relationship with Titus Card?" the IA guy asks me. I am on Keplar, sitting in an interrogation room. Thanks Titus. Not only do you have to decide you want to annihilate the human race for reasons best known to you, but you decide that this is really great time to tell me you love me. Nice. I want to strangle him for what he'd done. What he'd done to the Ulyssess. What he'd done to all of us. and I want to smack him upside the head for what he'd said about me.
"I do not have a relationship with him," I say, for possibly the twentieth time, "I was in training with Maj. Gen---with Titus Card. At that time, we were close. We did have sex once, thirty two years ago. Only once. Nothing ever came of it. When he returned to the Ulyssess hours before his betrayal he appeared to have feelings for me. He kissed me once. I did not reciprocate nor did I encourage his behavior."
"Why didn't you like him? Why did you sleep together only once?" he asks. I'm not telling him about the slap. I've told him about the sex that's bad enough I never, ever wanted to talk about that. I don't know why. Maybe because I enjoyed it.
"Because I was not that attracted to him. I slept with him thirty two years ago because we were kids and I felt like it. I didn't again because I didn't like him all that much. He was cold, he wasn't affectionate, he never told me he loved me," I say. Well that's a lie but the only people who know it's a lie are dead.
"Not until three days ago," the IA guy says, almost satisfied.
"Yeah, no, not until then," I sigh, tipping my head back. I have been in these interviews for the past three days. North and I going into the Ulyssess hadn't helped that. But they were mostly concerned with the overall fact that in his manifesto Titus had decided to declare his undying love for me. God that idiot. He made me sick. Thinking of him made me sick. Thinking of how I let him touch me made me sick. Sick sick. I thought he was okay. I thought he was misunderstood, too clever by half, lonely---not a murderer. Not heartless.
"Did he ever speak to you about his time on the North Rim? Encounters with the Isylgyns? Any malice towards the government, even in fun, joking, that sort of thing?" he asks
"No, he didn't---nothing concrete, he said stupid things like pretend to be mad at people he wasn't---nothing serious, nothing that would give it away," I say, sighing, "We've been through this, I've done the polygraph, I've been stared at by your lie detectors. Just court martial me or for God's sake let me help find the bastard."
"The interviews cannot conclude until you give us justification for why you are mentioned," he says, sitting down across from me. In his crisp neat suit. He didn't just see his friend's bodies hanging in space, their chests burned open, heads burned off, faces half gone, all suspended in space fear still stricken in their eyes.
"I've told you. the only reason is because yes, I knew he had feelings for me. other people knew it too, it wasn't some secret. We were the same rank, it wasn't a big deal. We'd worked together many times, and had the odd drink like you do, but I quarreled with him. if anything I rejected him," I say, sighing. Half of me wonders what would have happened if I hadn't rejected him that night. If I hadn't quarreled if I had kissed him again.
"Why did he give you orders to go back to Keplar?" he asks.
"I don't know. He said they were from Commander Thorn, maybe they were. If he weren't dead, we could ask him," I sigh.
"We received no orders that you were to return," he says, flatly.
"Then he probably made them up. He did it at the last minute, he just decided to save me from the slaughter," I say, annoyed, "Since he apparently loves me then that would make sense, wouldn't it?"
"Why do you say he loves you?"
"BECAUSE HE SAID 'SEND HER MY LOVE'!" I cry, angrily, "You know why you said it yourself!"
"Send her my love isn't the same thing as I love you," he says.
"No, it's saying that all the love he has—which is probably very miniscule, is mine," I say, sitting back in the chair, taking deep breaths. No use getting angry. That won't do Becca or Kip or Jordan or any of the others any good. it won't bring them back. it won't bring Titus back. Not my Titus. Not the boy who so fresh and young, so innocent, kissed me so gently in the dark. No, that Titus doesn't exist. Not anymore. God, Titus, why?
**
I wake up slowly. My arms are tied up to things above my head. My legs are bound as well. I am floating, or my clothes are around me. we're not on any planet. We. I opened my eyes slowly. I am tied spread eagle to a wall, facing a room with all sorts of ladders and things at different angles to climb on. There are chests which are sealed. On the opposite wall, there is a window that looks out the open universe. In the distance, I faintly see Keplar and its moons. Home. The floor is black. The walls are black. And Titus, floating in front of the window, is dressed in white.
"Feeling better?" he asks, turning around, fluidly, and pulling along one of the ladders to come closer. there are ladders all over the room. each is a different, florescent color. They curve around and lead off into the ceiling and down into the floor. A madman's playground. The child who never got any toys.
I look to my left, straining my head. Tony is there next to me, tied up. He is gagged, and his face is red from crying. On my right, Commander Thorne is similarly gagged, but his eyes are burning at Titus.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask, my voice shaking.
"Look through the ages. There are men, and then there are gods. There are those who defy boundaries, defy limits, rules aren't made for men like me. I was sick of limits. Sick of orders. What was the point of fitting in? Of going with the mold. Of being good? When I can do this so well?" he asks, going over to a chest. He gets out a pump like machine, attached to a large clear container. There is a tube running off of it.
"You're not a god, you're a butcher," I say, spitting in his direction. I miss but it is the best I can do. "You slaughtered innocent people. None of them did anything to you."
"No, I know. I just don't care, you see," Titus says, calmly. There is a terrible light glowing in his eyes. He floats over to Tony, and inserts a needle in his arm. Tony whimpers. Then Titus starts the pump. Blood begins running down the tube and into the jug that floats not a foot from me. I feel my stomach turn. Tony whimpers as we both realize that he is going to kill us by pumping out all of our blood. "All my life I haven't cared for other people. For morals. For things that are good and bad. I realized other people did. But it didn't bother me. On the contrary, it intrigued me. I wanted to understand why I was different from anybody else. If there was anything I could do to make me feel emotion."
"And?" I ask. I am not interested in his mania, but if he's talking, he may not notice me working my hands in the ties. They are loose on my wrists. I may be able to get out.
"When I was fourteen, my sister used to walk me home from school. She was my eldest sister, and for some reason she was fonder of me than my other siblings. Used to bring me cakes, and remember my birthday, , those sorts of things. Well, one night it was dark, and late, and I asked her if we could take a short cut down an alley. like a fool, she followed me. She was a little thing, then I was taller than she was. well, I got her down there, and then I turned around, pushed her against the wall, and strangled her. She didn't even fight back she was so surprised. It was over in a minute. And I screamed and sobbed and ran to get police. And nobody thought it was me," he says, inserting a needle into my arm. I feel the pull as my vein begins to slowly collapse as the blood leaves it.
"Why did you do that?" I ask.
"To see if I would feel guilt. And to test to see if others would believe I did feel remorse. I wanted to see how good an actor I was," he says, getting another apparatus.
Tony whimpers. His face is getting white. I struggle harder.
"You murdered your own sister, to see if you would feel bad?" I ask, disgusted. I admired him. I had thought he was a great man. He is an animal. Lower than an animal. He doesn't even deserve to exist.
"Yes. It turned out I didn't," he says, setting up the third pump on Commander Thorne, "After that, I knew I could do anything."
"Do anything---like destroy your own people? Everything you worked for?" I ask, my left hand is free, my right is almost. Almost there.
"On the contrary, this is what I've worked for. My ship, the Pandemonium, I will rule everything. Master of the universe. I am not limited by your promotions, your rules, your restrictions, I create the rules, look---look at what I've built. Nobody gave me a chance. The world didn't give me the chance to be what I could be. so I will destroy the world, and build my own," he says, backing away.
Tony whimpers again.
"Oh, are you loosing a bit too much blood? Feeling dizzy yet?" he asks, his voice sincere. It makes my skin crawl. "Thirsty? Blood loss does that. don't worry. You'll die soon. Won't that be an adventure."
"Shut up. Just shut up," I cry, my voice trembling with rage. He killed Terrance. He killed Terrance. He did it. he's killing Tony. All Tony asked was that I protect him and I trusted this monster. If I could tear my own heart out I would.
"You are getting weak already, Quinn, that would have been much fiercer earlier," Titus says, going back to his crate. He withdraws one more pump and jug. This jug is full of something claggy and dark. He moves towards me.
"Oh, hell no," I say, as he sticks the needle in my other arm, starting the pump.
"It's not dark matter, that's an urban legend I made up. Just good Isylgyn blood," Titus says, soothingly. I instantly feel sick. I want to rip the thing off of me. My hands are free; I could tear it out. but I don't.
In one swift motion, I swing over to Tony, pulling the needle out of his arm. Relief flashes in his eyes. he thinks I am going to save him. I put my hand on his neck, and he almost smiles. In one swift motion, I crack his neck. Instantly dead. I press my face against his soft hair. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, tears running off my face.
"Very sweet," Titus claps his hands, "The savior, eh Quinn?" A sharp pain, starting in my back, bolts through me. I cry out as I double over in pain. He's just shocked me.
"Now, sit still," Titus pulls me back up to tie me up, pocketing the stung gun. This time he ties me much tighter.
"You left me loose on purpose," I say, unable to pull my eyes from Tony. His head lolls, eyes still opened. The machine is still pumping blood out of him.
"Yes, I wanted to see what you would do. You are weak, you the only one I thought might join me," Titus says, stroking my cheek, "You were smart, Quinn. Very smart. You were frustrated as well, all the rules. Don't see? Doesn't this, this freedom, appeal to you?"
"No, not like this. This isn't freedom, this is carnage, this is hell," I say, looking down to see the sticky black stuff begin to flow through my vein, "Just kill me now."
"You wouldn't be so lucky as Commander Thorne here. Even if you don't willingly want to join me, you soon will," Titus says, going over to check Commander Thorne. He is limp and his eyes unfocused. Almost dead.
"The brainwashing. You said it was real," I breathed, "Because you did it."
"Good, very good," Titus says, smiling.
"You're lonely, you want someone to finally know all these horrible things you've done. You want attention, and that's me," I realize.
"Yes, lucky you."
**
"Well, I guess it's a good thing he thinks you're dead," Quentin says, in his usual flat delivery, in manner of greeting as Soren and I emerged from our makeshift tent in the corner of the shack.
"What's on the news?" I ask, coming over to join him at his counter/breakfast table. He has rolls in the middle as well as protein pills, an assortment of medications for him, and plate each for Soren and I. I pick Soren up and set him in the chair, then go to the refrigerator. Quentin is too lazy to cook for himself, and as a part of my keep I have gotten into the habit of making him food.
"The Space Forces released a statement saying that they have every reason to believe that Titus Card is in fact a traitor, and that the other missing Spacemen were more than likely coconspirators, anybody with information should come forward," he says, waving hello to Soren who waves back.
"Wow, really, they think he's a traitor? Because of the part where he said 'I'm the traitor' or he declared he wants to rule the galaxy?" I ask, rolling my eyes, as I warm pieces of meat in an illegal heater, for Quentin and Soren. I don't eat breakfast. An odd trait I sadly inherited from my apparently very insane father. Thing is when I was small he used to tell me stories about him and I, ruling the universe together. I didn't think he meant it. like this. Apparently he did.
"Like I said, always was crazy. Stood off rubbing his head and thinking all the time, always scheming, took terrible risks flying, never seen such a lucky bastard," Quentin says, accepting the warm plate of food as I sit down myself.
"Unfortunately," I say, cutting Soren's into bite-sized pieces. I resist the urge to pour myself a glass of milk. It was all my father drank, or ate to my recollection. When I was pregnant, it was about all I could stomach. Then and when I was breast-feeding I had indulged myself and drunk it, but now with only my own body to worry about I did not. It reminded me too much of him, a sticky, painful memory I wanted to push away. Every mannerism, every taste, even his diction, I wanted to avoid at all costs. Quentin noticed that I only drank water when he had milk available, but no doubt he knew my father's quirks and did not comment for that reason. "I'm afraid, though, if he could hack into the computers systems to publish his manifesto what if he tries to find out about me?"
"What can he find out?" Quentin asks.
"I went through an aid program," I say, glancing at Soren. He does not look up, though. He knows we're hiding. I have not elaborated more than that, though. he doesn't ask. "They, ah, helped me change my name so there's bound to be some record of that. Soren's in there, as my son, his father isn't listed, but Soren was due to start school and I didn't want any record of him except the birth which I couldn't help, even under my different name."
"You were always pretty paranoid he was gonna come after you," Quentin observes.
"Yeah, well, I knew he was smart. Didn't want him tracking me down," I say, as Soren gets up and goes over to pick up Cinder, who is playing with a leaf on floor. They flop down on the ground and purr to each other.
"Does the father know, or would he know you're alive?" Quentin asks. He's only concerned, trying to help me. I consider lying, but he has been kind. And he knows most everything. And I am learning to trust people. I am supposed to be. Part of being normal, being nothing like my father, is having friends and trusting in other people and not thinking you're the only one you can count on. And Quentin has been nothing but kind and trustworthy. Plus he already doesn't like my father.
"Titus is the father," I say, unable to resist looking into his eyes to see the disgusted shock registering there as the words reach his ears. Interesting, I still feel no remorse for my incest. I go on, "I tell Soren we're hiding from his daddy. That's all, and he hasn't asked about my parents. I figure it's simpler that way."
"Poor kid," Quentin says, looking down at Soren, now with the knowledge of his dubious parentage.
"He's going to be fine, I'll make sure of that," I say.
"I wasn't talking about him; I was talking about you," he says dryly, standing up from the table. He is wearing his prosthetic legs today.
"I was never a kid---you're fully limbed up, what's the occasion?" I ask, dismissively. I'm not going to pretend to care. That would be lying. And lying to people is WRONG. I am compiling an extensive list of things that are considered right and wrong and are apparently supposed to make me feel guilty or good as the case may be. they are not, but I am trying to learn. And it would be counterproductive to pretend to feel a certain way.
"We are going to trade today, you and I and the baby," he says, "Because I am too damn old to carry it myself and the way you hiked up here I figure you can carry your little one and whatever I need you too."
"Good, where are we going? I need some clothes for Soren," I say, picking up our dishes. Quentin paid me the other day, so I have some cash on hand. Soren is already too big for the clothes I've got him in, and he'll need new clothes for winter in these mountains. On that note, so will I, my own clothes are getting thin and worn, and none of them are particularly warm.
"To a town, of sorts," he says, "You'll like it. and trust me, nobody there knows who Titus Card even is."
"Good, sounds like I will like it," I say, pushing away memories of that day.
Harry Floren, and he had brown hair, brown eyes, and a sweet smile. He was very alive, very kind, and very sweet. He liked that I was clever. He liked walking me back to me room at night. And he liked the way I smiled when he succeeded in amusing me
And I liked him too. I liked having somebody who genuinely cared about her. And I started to think that I could genuinely care about somebody too. So, we started studying together, walking to classes together, and occasionally, kissing in corridors. This was to be our mistake, the occasional, innocent kiss in the empty halls.
Mostly empty halls.
Titus Card could walk any place he pleased in the Academy, with his clearance and reputation. And one fatal night, looking for his me, he came upon us. A simple, sweet, goodbye kiss before going their separate ways. But it was evidence enough.
Titus pulled us apart, ordering the boy away with a snarl.
"Go," I told him. Harry needed no more encouragement, Titus Card evoked fear in the hearts of cadets, standing a head above the boy, muscled, with quick hands and a deep voice. "I'm all right, just go."
He went, leaving that poor child to her fate.
"What do you think you were doing?" Titus asked, straightening my uniform from where the boy had mussed it.
"It was just a kiss," I said, as Titus began to march me back towards his quarters. He was staying on base, and had command of an entire apartment when he liked. I had not seen him for months, but I knew that that was where we were going.
"And? That changes nothing," Titus said, annoyed, "I'm disappointed in you."
"I haven't slept with him—God," I muttered, annoyed, "He's just a boyfriend."
"Good---but that doesn't matter, what have I told you about boys?" he asked.
"Nothing specifically, but you've told me I'm not allowed to trust anyone," I said, rolling my eyes.
"You aren't," he said, "Anyone, anyone will betray you."
"Betray me how? I'm only doing it because I want to," I said.
"Betray you, leave you, abandon you. I know you think you are strong, but when he leaves, or any other does, then you will feel sadness, and pain, and be left with bitter memories, and it will all be a waste of your emotions and energies," he said, as they neared the wing of apartments.
"What if he won't? Maybe he's not like that," I said, defiantly.
"They are ALL like that, all men are like that. They want you for your body and that alone, that is all men think about. Believe me, I am one," he said, rolling his eyes then, "Tess, listen to me, I know you think you are strong, or that he is perfect. He probably thinks he will love you forever. But his heart will change. If you are in an accident, when you grow old, lose your looks, he will cease loving you."
"He never promised me anything. I just like him. And I am having fun, so what's wrong with that? I don't care if he leaves me, or if it isn't forever," I said, as we ascended the steps to our flat.
"What is wrong with is that he will hurt you. And you will care," Titus said, "He is bigger than you, and stronger. He may act kind now, but later he may not be. pinning you down, hitting you, kissing you when you beg him to stop. If you let him, or any other, get that close to you, they can hurt you, do terrible things to you can't even think of."
"You had your Major Tom," I argued, as he put his hand on the door to unlock it, "Why can't I have someone?"
"Because you are supposed to learn from my mistakes and—AND I can see when you're not listening and instead forming your argument, stop it---AND I am a man which makes it different. Women don't take advantage of men, men take advantage of women. I'm sorry you're a woman I really was disappointed when I found out you were but there isn't a whole lot either of us can do about it since you apparently want to remain a woman," Titus said, walking in and locking the door behind them. "I actively chose not to take advantage of Major Tom, which is very surprising considering I'm a very cruel person but for some reason I decided not to which was an actual choice on my part and nothing she could count on."
"So, what you're saying is that I can never trust any man at any time?" I asked, hands on my hips.
"Other than me yes," Titus said, nodding, "There's nobody but us. You and I are the only ones who can trust each other. Everyone else will seek to betray you, use you."
"Fine," I said, folding my arms. "You're saying that I shouldn't have sex with anybody ever, because I can't trust them, right?"
"Right," Titus said, relieved I had finally gotten his point.
"So why don't you have sex with me, if you won't let anybody else?" I asked. I asked because she wanted to see what it was like, and to see if he would sink that low and if so, if I would feel guilty. I didn't know he was already that low. I had never felt guilt or remorse in my life, so I wanted to see if this would do it. I was sick of dead emotions. I knew other people had emotions. I wanted some as well. I had thought I could have love. If not, I would take guilt.
Titus laughed. He was intrigued.
He stepped forward, tipping my chin up to kiss him. I did not resist, leaning forward, my skin tingling with emotion I couldn't name.
"Better than that boy?" Titus asked, cradling my face in his large hands. His lips were warm and soft and so strange in mine yet so natural he had kissed my face countless times before.
"A bit," I said, kissing him again, this time harder. He put his arms around my body.
"Well come on, let's go to my room; I'm too old for the kitchen table bit," Titus said, putting his arm around my shoulders. I spent the night there, curled up next to him in the dark, sleeping restlessly, waking to feel his warm skin next to mine. So foreign yet now terribly familiar.
It was three weeks after that fateful night that Titus left, returning again to Space. It was five weeks later that I discovered I was carrying our child, my own brother. At first, I planned to tell the medical staff and have an abortion. But then, I began to feel what I had wished. Emotions. Remorse, and in fact love. Love for the innocent child who existed because of me, who had nothing to do with any of my and our father's sin. That was when I decided to put my brain to use, to get myself and my child fee. To find a new place, a new life. I decided because of love for my child and sibling, but also because of fear. I was afraid, for the first time in my life, afraid that if I killed my unborn child now, I would never again feel love.