Chapter 6

Chapter 6 of Moebius

Chapter 6

 

Conner knocked on Core’s door, holding three flowers, one orange with six petals, one small and purple, and one yellow like a cup. All of them were smaller than the ring made by his thumb and forefinger.

“Go away,” Core shouted, her voice muted by the door.

Conner knocked again.

“I said go away.” This time she finished with a curse.

Knock knock knock.

“Do I have to chase you off?” The door opened, revealing Core’s angry face, which was somehow also attractive. She thrust her arm out, jabbing Conner beneath the shoulder. “Beat it.”

“I brought these for you,” Conner said, holding out the flowers.

Core looked at them. “Tch. Weeds.” Nevertheless, she took them and turned around to go put them on a dresser on the opposite side of the room. She left the door open, which Conner took as an invitation to come into the room.

“I did pick them myself,” he said.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Core said, turning back to face him, “but it’s pointless. This struggle of mine is not normal, not the kind that can be cured by an act of kindness and a boner.”

Conner felt blood rush to his face. “That’s na, wuh, uh, b---” He squeezed his eyes shut, took several deep breaths, and swallowed.

“If you try to get close to me,” Core said, “I am going to end up hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you, but that’s what’s going to happen.”

Conner tried again. “If a gift of flowers,” he stressed and drew out the words, “doesn’t help at all, then what will?”

“Nothing,” Core said, eyes wandering disinterestedly. “Unless you can kill Spellcaster.”

“All right,” Conner said, “let’s do it.”

“I don’t have a sense of humor.”

“No I’m serious. Let’s talk to whoever’s in charge and convince them to send a strike force. With us on it, of course.”

Core stared at him. Then she said, “If you can convince Trace to authorize it, count me in.” She took two steps closer to Conner, and thrust her arm forward in a violent gesture. “Now get out.”

Conner grinned, bowed, and took his leave.

After asking around, he learned Trace was the one to talk to. After knocking and being admitted into her office, he laid out his proposal. “If we take out Spellcaster, billions of people will suddenly get their sanity back.”

“Do you think we haven’t thought of that?” Trace asked.

“No,” Conner said, “but have you done anything about it?”

“As a matter of fact,” Trace said, “yes.”

Conner blinked. “You . . . you have?”

“We have. A team is being put together right now to make a surgical strike. As powerful as Spellcaster is, he made one grave mistake in concentrating all of that power in himself. Cut off the head, and the whole Empire might crumble.”

“Put Core and me on that team,” Conner said.

“Corcell makes sense,” Trace said. “She has combat experience. But why you?”

Conner pulled his tennis racket off his back and thumbed the release button. The covering on the rim peeled away, revealing the razor-sharp blade running around it. “Because I’m the one who cut off the Disassembler’s head.”

 

* * *

 

The sunset painted the ripples of the canal in orange and indigo. The air and ground Mara and Oliver sat on were both just a bit too chilly for Mara’s comfort, which made it the perfect temperature to put her arm around Oliver and press her side against his. She felt half asleep, the present moment holding the sublimeness of a dream.

“Where are we?” she said.

“At DeQueiu Canal, about seven kilometers from Resistance headquarters,” Oliver said.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She nuzzled his shoulder. “We’re on a faraway planet in the depths of space and time. And in that place, so unimaginably distant from home, surrounded by hell, we’ve found a sliver of paradise.”

Oliver sighed contentedly. “Yes we have.”

Mara breathed and enjoyed his warmth for a long moment. Then she said, “Why don’t we just stay here when the fighting happens, and let the armies decide who wins. It’s not our war.”

“Well,” Oliver said, “It’s clear which side is good and which side is bad. So that means we should help the good side, right? As they say, injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere and all that.”

“But this isn’t anywhere,” Mara said. “It’s far in our future. It doesn’t affect our lives, our families and friends at all.”

“It affects the people here,” Oliver said. “Isn’t that enough?”

“What, are we expected to go fight in every war that happens all over the universe all throughout time?”

Oliver was silent for a moment, and then said, “I see your point. But, we’re here. So we should contribute what we can.”

The sun disappeared over the horizon and its light was replaced by the multicolored ambiance of street lamps. The two of them got up, and Mara discovered it had gotten quite a bit cooler. She shivered and clung to Oliver for warmth.

“It’s our responsibility,” Oliver said.

“I don’t see it that way.”

Oliver pushed her away and glared at her. “We’re here, there’s obvious good we could do, therefore we should do it.”

“That’s not---”

“It’s plain, simple logic.”

“Oliver,” Mara said, taken aback by his tone and abruptness, “what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. You’re just being illogical.”

Mara stifled the anger that threatened to build up within her. “Let’s suppose I am being illogical. Why would that make you mad?”

“Because---” Oliver bit off the sharpness, took a breath, and tried again. “Because this is our future. Four hundred years after our time, the galaxy is going to have a massive horrendous war.”

“Uh huh,” Mara said. “And?”

“And?” A bit of the anger returned to Oliver’s voice. “Don’t you see what that means? All we do in our time, all the effort we put into our galaxy to make it a better place, all the social and moral progress we make; if it all ends up in this war, what’s the point?”

Mara reached up and gently rubbed his shoulder. “I think I understand.” Oliver released some tension, and Mara tucked her arm around his and they started walking to the bus station. “Let me tell you something,” she said. “Where I come from, we don’t have a lot of interaction with the outside world. A lot of people spend their whole lives without seeing the sky. To us, our city, from the time we are born to  the time of our grandkids, might as well be the entire universe.”

“Well it’s not,” Oliver said.

“I know, I know. My point is that we live happy, fulfilled lives in our world, and to us, that’s good enough. Most of the time, what happens outside doesn’t matter.”

“But it still exists,” Oliver said. “Denying it, ignoring it doesn’t make it any less real.”

“You’re right, of course.”

The bus pulled up, and they embarked. They found a seat together, and the world outside began to move.

“I looked up Proserpine in this time period,” Mara said. “It’s in the middle of a deep winter. The Tarrans have officially claimed sovereignty over it, but haven’t sent in any troops or asserted themselves over the people in any way. An official report by a Tarran general says it is, and I quote, ‘too much of a bother.’”

The unspoken implication in her words was that even now, with the galaxy at war, things remained the same on Proserpine. Sometimes, allowing someone to find the meaning in your words for themselves left them more receptive than if you told them outright.

Oliver did not reply. They rode the rest of the bus ride in silence, almost touching, but not quite.

 

* * *

 

Callum and Veronica joined the crew about to board the shuttle that would take them to the dreadnought Second Light. Vice Admiral Rian Setcher watched, keeping track of the roll.

With all these people here,” Veronica said in a low voice, “do you think we’ll have an opportunity to replace the spark plugs?”

“I’m not sure,” Callum said. Then he spotted Core approaching. “Scratch that, fate may have just smiled upon us.”

“Hi Dad,” Core said, approaching the vice admiral.

“Corcell,” Rian said, giving her a smile. “I hear you’re going on a mission.”

“Looks like now is a good time,” Callum whispered. The crew’s attention was on this family goodbye, a perfect opportunity for Veronica to slip to the back of the shuttle and make the needed repairs. As for Callum, he was interested in this father-daughter moment. What mission?

“When they come,” Core said, “you blow their ships to smithereens and leave them gasping in the cold vacuum of space.”

“And you,” Rian said, “end this nightmare. Bring your brother back to us.” He pulled Core into a hug. “And make my daughter whole again.”

She returned the embrace, though Callum could see by the stiffness of her arms that her heart was not in it. Poor girl.

Rian let her go and she stepped back. “Good luck,” he said.

“Give ‘em hell,” Core replied. She turned and walked in the direction of the Lizardhawk, where Skipper, Conner, and Taea waited.

Veronica slipped back to Callum’s side. “Did you get it fixed?” he asked.

“Good as new. They’ll never know it was un-startable up until a minute before launch.”

“All right, crew,” Rian said, “let’s board.”