--9--
Outside, the sun was a sullen orange ball sinking into the ocean, painting the jagged rocks of the island in murky reds and browns. Thick purple clouds smudged the sky like angry bruises, and a cold evening breeze bent the few stubborn weeds that still clung to the rocks. Nearly two years ago, a tidal wave caused by Katse's Black Hole Plan, had washed the life from this island, leaving it scarred and barren.Inside the installation, the atmosphere was warmer and the buzz and murmur of electronic equipment indicated life and activity. A large hawk perched on the back of one of the lab chairs and preened. The sound of keys tapping issued from the next room where Dr. Rafael went over the results of Joe's latest physical.
Almost two years since the Black Hole Plan had been stopped, and the war was starting again. Almost two years since Joe had said farewell to his friends. How would they react to the news?
As he watched the sun set through the window, Joe found himself thinking of Ken and how he fought. Ken's forte was technique, something he spent hours practicing and polishing. He moved with the fluid, effortless grace of a dancer or a gymnast, dispatching enemy after enemy without breaking step. No wonder the Galactors considered him a demon. To Ken, fighting was an art; he had once tried to explain how he focused on movement and space and location. Joe had only shaken his head in confusion.
Joe, on the other hand, concentrated on logistics: which blows would stun, cripple or kill. Rather than graceful, his moves were lightning fast, concentrated and powerful. He didn't linger over his victims, but tackled them as faceless parts of one damned whole, the violence impersonal and cathartic. Unless one singled himself out....
Ken would have handled this better. Ken wouldn't have screwed up so badly.
"I can't stand overly talkative people."
Dr. Rafael's voice startled him--he hadn't heard the old man come in.
"Your results are complete. There's indication of strain in the ligaments of your right shoulder, but no other damage. Quite remarkable, for your first full-scale battle."
Joe watched the last rind of the sun vanish behind the horizon. Remarkable. If you'd seen it, would you have been proud, Dr. Rafael?
"What's the point to all this?" His own voice sounded odd, as if it came from someone else.
Rafael blinked. "Plenty... but our best advantages will come in time." He touched Joe's arm, and though Joe didn't pull away, his arm was rock-hard, cold. "At least we gained more information. If you hadn't spotted the installation, I wouldn't have been able to determine what had happened there. You said there were no officers among the dead? That matches three other attacks that took place previously. They're stealing generals, scientists, strategists, and they'll move soon. Have patience, Joe. Trust my experience, if nothing else. Old age and treachery sometimes do win out over youth and skill."
"So you say." Joe's voice was low, flat. The expression in Rafael's eyes sharpened for a moment.
"I meant to ask you about your outfit. Get conscripted early?"
Joe looked down at the grey Special Ops uniform, pulled from a dead man's locker in one of the less-damaged portions of the ruined base. "I shredded my other clothes. These were handy." If ironic. Even if he hadn't looked like he'd just waded through a slaughterhouse trench, his old fatigues had been reduced to rags. Before he changed clothes he'd found a shower that still worked and spent a half hour scrubbing with harsh soap, watching red water trickle down the drain until the pump gave out.
Joe suddenly pulled away from the doctor's hand and left the room.
Dr. Rafael watched him, featherlike brows drawn in a deep frown. Something had failed, but the physical had told him nothing and Joe evidently had shared all he was willing. The old physician could give Joe's body incredible strength, but he couldn't do anything to strengthen the spirit that controlled all that power. If Joe's confidence had been destroyed, the battle was already lost.
"Getz, where the hell have you been?""Just studying hard." Eric leaned on the desk in his quarters, clutching the receiver tightly to his ear with both hands. It was so good to hear a friendly voice--her voice. He could just see her proud face scowling, perfect lips pursed in a thin line. Even angry she was beautiful to him.
Behind him, a school of fish swam outside his window. For the moment he was safely ensconced in G-Town, getting fitted for his new uniform and vehicle, training with his new hand weapons, brushing up his techniques. His whole body ached from the work. The ISO had shipped his personal effects to base, and a security unit forwarded his bills and correspondence. His professors had been confused at his sudden leave of absence, but he could make arrangements over the phone, from the relative safety of the base. Schedule willing, he could even continue his studies thanks to the influence of a few highly placed ISO officials--though it would be at a slower pace than he liked. If only he could pull Mako to him now. If only she could be with him here.
"Oh, come on. Only tests? I've been on your pager for the past three days. Did you shut it off?"
"Yeah. I had some important meetings with some of the professors." That was pretty much true. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be with your father?"
"As if he cares. All he does is whine about the food, the nurses and my dear, sweet brother who should be taking care of him." Her voice dropped bitterly. "Festering old fart. He should just expire now and put himself out of our misery."
She had the same bluntness as her father, the same tendency to talk tough. Getz grinned slightly and tried to make the grin carry to his voice. "With your luck he'll outlive your grandchildren. You're being a bad daughter."
"I'd rather be your bad girl." Her voice dropped. "You wanna know how bad?"
His grin widened. "And I thought I had you trained."
"Silly man. You're the one who needs shaping up, get your head out of those books and into my--" "Mako!" He laughed. "Please! You know I'm saving myself for marriage. You're going to have to wait until at least after finals."
A gasp, then silence. Getz raged at himself behind his facade. You idiot!
"You mean--?"
The phone buzzed; he had another call coming in. "Look, I have to hang up now. I'll see you when you get back. Same time, right?" Please, please don't name the time and place. Someone might be listening. ISO scramblers prevented his call from being traced to its source, but anyone could have tapped Mako's phone.
"Yes, but--" Her voice trembled.
"I love you, Mako." He hung up the phone gently, forcing himself to stay calm as his voice rang between his ears. You can't propose to her now, you bastard! You were supposed to wait! You just traded in her engagement ring for that gold locket!
"It had just... come out," he whispered. So much for self control.
You have important work to do first!
"Yeah? More important than her. Who let the ISO run my life?"
You're thinking like a child. You're endangering both yourself and her now. Galactor could take her hostage and force you to show them inside ISO headquarters. Then they'd kill you both. You should call Dr. Nambu and resign, but it's probably too late.
"I can't back out now."
The gold locket--his promise of things to come--jabbed him in the hip, and he put his hand in his pocket, feeling the rough edges of the filigree. Two weeks. He had two weeks before she came home and he had to face her.
"But I don't know what's worse."
The phone buzzed again. Getz picked up the receiver. Engineer Kamo wanted him on Level 7 for another fitting. Shoving his pain into a corner for the moment, Getz left his suite and locked the door behind him.
Slowly, Ken walked around the car. There was a big dent in the right front fender and long, metallic scratches running the length of the driver's side. One wheel had gone flat, and he'd had to resort to the tiny spare to get home, which probably meant a full wheel alignment would be needed now. Jun was going to kill him."Well," Ken muttered. "At least I washed it."
He pulled the garage door shut. The building was silent, the bar closed for Jun's day off. She was due back soon. Jinpei was still at school. Ryu would be here as soon as he could fly over.
Ken unlocked the inner door and walked down the hall to the main room. A single tracklight cast a dim yellow glow over the bar, but the rest of the shop was dark, booths empty, chairs stacked on top of tables. The room felt unfamiliar, but comforting in that unfamiliarity. A fresh start.
Ken sat at the bar, rested his head on his fists and closed his eyes. They would get their call to action; no doubt back to ceaseless patrols and the inevitable arguments about action versus reconnaissance, but things would never be the same again. There would be only four of them. Five seats on the Godphoenix, one of them vacant. Or even worse, occupied by a stranger.
"Well, you wanted this, didn't you?" chided a familiar voice. It sent a shiver through him.
Ken could just see him sitting one stool over, elbows resting on the newspaper spread on the counter. Nursing the ubiquitous cup of coffee. Regarding Ken with his usual piercing stare. Joe.
"No." Ken turned to face him, meeting that sharp gaze with a frown. "I wanted adventure. I wanted to belong. I didn't want this. Not the war again. Not more death."
No answer. Joe silently contemplated his coffee, letting Ken wrestle with his feelings alone.
"You realize what this means, don't you?" Ken whispered. "Galactor has returned and my father... you... both wasted your lives for nothing!" Go ahead, get angry. I want to see you angry!
Joe only shook his head. "No, not for nothing," he said evenly."The world would've been destroyed if not for your father."
"And what about you?"
But the stool beside him was empty. The bare counter mocked him. The silence rang in his ears.
Joe couldn't answer him. Joe was dead.
Ken got up and headed for the stairs to the upper levels. On the fifth step, the phone rang upstairs, and he ran the rest of the way to answer it.
--10--
"Woo, Brad!" A voice yelled at him in the hall. Brad Sykes, linebacker for the Utoland Lions, whirled around to see who it was, but couldn't find the source of the voice in the milling crowd between fourth and fifth period.Someone else wolf-whistled. "Nice butt!" A girl's voice this time, followed by giggles. Brad's face flushed and his hands clenched over his books, but he couldn't very well turn and lash out at the flock of cheerleaders that passed him. It hadn't helped that the little smartass who'd given the morning announcements over the school intercom had mentioned the "full moon in Utoland Junior High yesterday afternoon."
It had been relentless all through the past week: the little booby traps in his books, the ballpoint pen that backfired ink all over his shirt, and worst of all, the embarrassing sticky notes he found attached to his hair and clothing. The notes contained little sayings like, "Better to shut up and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt," and "The first enemy a bully defeats is himself." Trite stuff you'd find on a fortune cookie, neatly laser printed and untraceable. What he found frightening was no matter how he tried, he couldn't for the life of him figure out where they were coming from. Suddenly a friend would point to his hair or clothing, and there would be another little yellow note.
If the notes contained death threats, he could report them to the dean--not that he was wuss enough to do something like that. Though harmless and stupid, these notes were maddening enough to distract him from his schoolwork, and already Mr. Wilson had yelled at him in Math class, right in front of Andrea and Laura. His women.
It had to be Jinpei Yamashita, the little loser with the Vulcan Death Grip who'd been drooling over Laura since he'd first come to this school. But since that painful and degrading episode in the boy's room, Yamashita had made like the Invisible Man. The only time Brad had seen him was during History, where they had a class together. Jinpei had ignored him completely, which was worse than trying to rub it in. Though he had no idea how the kid had done it, if Yamashita could break his arm, he could probably find some way to plant those notes.
So yesterday, Brad decided to take charge of the situation. He found a bunch of Jinpei's cronies sitting in the lunch room together, discussing quantum physics, the latest episode of Star Trek or whatever the little mutants talked about. He picked his victim and strode to the table.
Eiji Tanaka wondered why his friends had suddenly gone silent. Then a hand grabbed him. Holding Eiji by the shirt front, Brad swept the table clear of food and books and sat down. One of the boys dashed off, searching for the lunchroom monitor.
"I'm lookin' for your friend," Brad snarled.
"Got lotsa friends," Eiji said, slightly out of breath. "Go find your own."
"Eiji, shit!" a bystander groaned.
The big teenager hauled him completely off his seat, and Eiji heard and felt fabric rip. "Smart guy. Maybe a little too smart. Where's Yamashita?"
"I don't know."
"I think you do."
"He's in the gym with Coach Hanson," another boy chimed in, and Eiji turned his head to glare in the traitor's direction. "He said he had a meeting in Coach's office."
"Probably to make up extra credit." Brad shoved Eiji back into his chair, which overturned and both crashed onto the floor. Grinning, Brad turned and headed for the gym--that felt good. Little geek.
He missed Yamashita by about a minute according to the coach, but since he had P.E. next period, he might as well stay. He changed his clothes and went to warm up.
Class was uneventful, several rounds of basketball. Afterward Brad showered and returned to his gym locker to retrieve his clothes. Then he opened the locker door and all hell broke loose.
Something went bang, and the room filled with thick, foul-smelling smoke. The fire buzzer blared, and the other boys shrieked as they scrambled for their clothes. Coughing, eyes streaming, Brad could barely see. Suddenly a hand grabbed his forearm in a strong grip, and he heard the Coach's voice bark, "C'mon!" The next thing he knew, he was standing in the school hallway outside the boy's locker room wearing nothing but a towel. There was nobody else from the gym there. The alarm stopped.
Then the bell rang.
Wildly, Brad looked for a place to run, but there wasn't any. He slammed a shoulder against the locker room door, but the door refused to budge. He backed against the door, towel clutched tightly around him as the hallways filled with students on their way to their next class.
Somebody whooped, snapping him out of his reverie. Brad growled. Now he was the most famous kid on campus, for all the wrong reasons. Even now he could picture Jinpei blinking angelically at the dean: "I didn't do it. I was in Chemistry. Ask Mr. Sato." Little bastard. I know he did it. I want his ass in a sling!
"Hey, Brad." A familiar voice. John, from Lions Varsity.
"What?" He braced himself for another volley of jokes.
"There's something on your sleeve." John picked off a yellow piece of paper. Brad snatched it from his hand and read the note printed there: "Know your enemy."
"God-dammit!" Brad bellowed and raced back down the hallway. He knew where the Yamashita kid was this period. Enough was enough.
"Both of you should be more than familiar with the rules," Dean Collins droned as he paced before the window. The man reminded Jinpei more than a little of Dr. Nambu during one of his lecturing sessions, and he fought to restrain a grin. "Fighting will not be tolerated in this establishment for any reason."Jinpei blinked innocently at everyone in the room, making sure both the dean and the principal noted his scuffed appearance. He was the victim here, of course, after Brad had barged into his English class and dove on him like a berserker, toppling desks and scattering bystanders. Brad had even hit him once or twice before the teacher pulled the raging teenager off.
"I told you, this little creep has been harassing me, leaving little threats on my books, in my locker. Look at this!" Brad shoved the latest note at the Dean. "He's the one who planted the smoke bomb in my locker, I can prove it to you!"
"What's your side of this?" The dean regarded Jinpei.
"Brad doesn't like me much, I'll admit that. I don't like him either. He's a bully. He thinks I'm trying to steal Laura from him, but he's going with Andrea, so I don't know what his problem is."
"Did you do any of these things? Did you harass him with these printed messages?"
Jinpei looked at the note in the Dean's hand: Know your enemy. "Sir, how could I do that?" Jinpei shrugged. "I like living."
Dean Collins thought for a long moment. "I don't think this line of reasoning is getting us anywhere. Brad, this is not your first offense, and witnesses say you started this fight unprovoked. Therefore, I am suspending you from football for the rest of the season." Brad's eyes bulged, and his voice broke. "What? Dean Collins, you can't--"
"This was your third warning. I've already discussed these measures with Coach Hanson. If you don't have enough discipline to monitor your own conduct, you don't have enough discipline to play good football. It truly is a shame for the team, but it's something you should have considered."
"Sir, please! I--"
There was a knock on the door, and the principal opened it to reveal a muscular young man with intense blue eyes and a severe expression. "I'm here for Jinpei Yamashita," he said.
Jinpei gagged.
"Oh yes, come in," the principal said. "Boys, I've notified your families of the fight."
Brad looked from the visitor to Jinpei--his brother? Certainly not old enough to be his father. Not even a physical resemblance, but he had the same formidable look to him as Coach did when a player was about to take a slam for misconduct. Brad suddenly suspected he had the lesser sentence. The look on Jinpei's face confirmed it.
The young man and the principal walked into another room and closed the door. Dean Collins turned to Brad. "All right, that's it for today. Have Ms. Sugawara give you a hall pass back to class."
"But Dean Collins, this isn't fair!"
"The case is closed. Go back to class."
"My dad will hear about this!"
"I hope he does. I've already informed your mother." Cooper's mouth was drawn in a thin line. "Get back to class, Mr. Sykes."
Brad waited for his pass, then dawdled in the hall, waiting to see what happened between Yamashita and his escort, until the hall monitor ushered him back to class. As he walked away, he looked over his shoulder at the office door until it was out of sight. He hoped that big brother or whoever he was kicked Yamashita's smart little ass.
Inside the office, Jinpei watched the closed door and silently awaited his execution. After several long, ominous minutes, Ken reappeared and took his charge by the shoulder, motioning with his head. The two walked out of the office and down the hall to the visitor's lot. When they reached Jun's car, Jinpei's eyes widened. "What happened? This thing's a mess, Aniki!"
"Just get in."
While they waited for a traffic light to change, Jinpei tried again. "Aniki, will you let me explain? Brad was a bully. I couldn't let him get away with it, but I couldn't fight him straight out, so...."
"I know what you did," Ken said brusquely, staring at the road. Block after block of residences passed. With the canvas top up, the convertible felt oppressive, closed in. The prison wagon taking him to his cell. Ken would just give him a tongue-lashing, then hand him over to Jun for sentencing. Jun could be pretty imaginative. Jinpei sank into his seat.
Suddenly, Ken grinned. "I liked the notes. The smoke bomb was too much, though. These aren't Galactors you're dealing with." Jinpei's eyes bugged as he continued. "Actually, it came at a good time. I needed an excuse to pull you out of that school, and transferring you to get you away from school bullies isn't the best, but...."
"What? What for?" Jinpei's adolescent voice squeaked. "I can handle those assholes! Why--"
"We're being called back to active duty."
"Aa--!"
Jinpei was silent for the rest of the trip.
Dr. Rafael found Joe in the old training room, dressed in sweatpants and working on the boxing bag in the far corner. Sweat dripped from his hair and trickled down his face and back as he alternated between punches and kicks. The sounds of impact echoed through the gym."I'm surprised to see you still here," Rafael said.
Joe didn't break his rhythm. "Where would I go?"
"You had a pretty good idea only a few weeks ago."
"That was then." The bag bent almost double beneath a hard roundhouse kick.
"Joe, what really happened out there?"
"I gave you a report, Doctor."
"Evidently you left out something that's disturbing you now. You killed a number of Galactor soldiers. Surely you've experienced missions like this before. You've fought alone before. You've been cornered before."
Not with those results. The Galactor's head exploding; the skull cracking like an eggshell beneath his fist, hot blood and gobbets of flesh running down his arms. The sickening sounds of flesh rupturing against metal. Blood running down the grey walls in jagged rivulets.
"Fuck!" Joe whirled and struck out. The boxing bag snapped free of its chains and slammed into the mirror behind it. The glass shattered, leaving the frame bare. Sand and stuffing trickled slowly from two rents in the thick vinyl bag.
Joe turned back to Rafael with an expression close to desperation on his face. "That's what happened, Dr. Rafael, over and over. Only there was blood, not sand! I didn't kill those people, I demolished them. Because I can't control this body!" He closed his eyes and stood with his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His voice dropped. "We've been kidding ourselves, understand? I can't operate this way. I just can't do it!"
"I won't listen to this," Rafael said.
"Then don't listen. It doesn't make any difference!"
"That isn't you talking."
Joe's mouth crooked in a smirk. "No? Who is it, then?"
"A frightened man. A man who has every reason to be."
Joe snorted.
"But fear has its place in a battle, doesn't it?" Rafael went over to the fallen punching bag and prodded it with one foot. "As long as you don't succumb to it. You've had a setback." He looked up at Joe. "Learn from it, get over it and move on."
"Huh." The smirk spread. Joe shook his head. "You have an answer for everything, don't you? It's easy for you. You sit safely in a laboratory and watch it all on monitor."
"Sometimes it's easier to analyze how shit hits the fan when you aren't getting any of it in your eyes." The vulgarity had its desired effect: Joe looked startled. "Before we continue this debate, I have another reason for being down here. I have some information you might find interesting."
Joe stared at him.
"You've probably been expecting this, but the rumor is out that your old team is returning to active duty. What you may not have expected is that they've been selecting candidates for your replacement." Joe's stare sharpened. "Most of the candidates are dead, but there's one left. His name is Eric Getz. If he survives, I think he bears watching. I just thought you should know."
Dr. Rafael turned and left. Joe regarded the broken bag at his feet, his mind ringing with those two words.
Your replacement.
"For the last time, will you just go?" Paula threw up her hands in exasperation. "It's not like I haven't been caring for this place for you over the past three years, is it?"Ryu grinned. "But I finally got this place the way I want it."
"It'll still be here when you get back! Out! The meter's running and you're going to be late for whatever it is you're doing!" The older woman shooed him through the door of his "office" and down the walkway to the parking lot, where a taxi was waiting to take him to the airport.
Ryu took his Skywagon through preflight, made a quick call to Ken at the Snack, then took off once his clearance was granted. He'd land at Ken's airstrip, and a bike would be waiting for him there. The trip was uneventful, the weather clear. That might change soon, Ryu thought. Ken's voice had sounded tight over the phone.
The Snack was closed, the metal shutters locked over the doors and windows. Ryu put the bike into the garage, noting the battered state of Jun's convertible He could hear faint music issuing from the bar: the radio. No voices. He opened the inner door.
"Ryu!" Jinpei's voice. The boy ran up to him, thumped him on the back and snagged his backpack. He must have grown two inches since Ryu had last seen him. And he was the happiest looking person in the room. Ken was sitting at a booth, intently studying the floor and Jun was leaning on the bar, glaring at Ken.
"Hey," Ryu said, and his voice sounded too loud. "Jun, what happened to your car?"
"He happened to my car," Jun said. Ken winced. "Perhaps you can wring out of him what happened. He won't tell me."
"How are you, Ryu?" Ken asked.
"Can't complain."
"Hey, listen to this." Jinpei thumped his arm. "I took your advice," he whispered. "Remember? About Brad, that football player? Man, you shoulda seen his face!"
Ryu broke into a wide grin. "Oh yeah? Whadja do? Whadja do?" Jinpei leaned close and told him in whispers. When he got to the part about the smoke bomb and Brad stranded in the hallway wearing only a towel, Ryu began to laugh. Jinpei giggled with him. Jun looked from one to the other and back to Ken. From her expression she was reaching detonation point.
"All right, that's enough." Ken's voice cut through them all. "We can do our catching up in a minute. First we have some business to take care of." He motioned for everyone to join him at the booth, and they all piled in. Even angry, Jun slid onto the bench next to Ken.
"First off, I don't know if any of you have been watching the news, but there have been some strange gang activities going on, and many of them involved the use of old Galactor equipment. Ryu first brought this to my attention." Ryu looked away. "About a month ago, those activities stopped completely, and reports started coming in of kidnappings. Scientists and military leaders are vanishing all over the world, with no indication why and no demands for ransom. It's becoming apparent that someone is planning a war."
"So what does this have to do with us?" Ryu asked.
"It's probably why we're getting called back," Jinpei said.
"What?" Jun and Ryu said together.
"I received a message from Dr. Nambu. We meet with him in three days, twelve noon at his residence. Pack to stay awhile."
"I wonder why?" Jun frowned. "I thought Galactor was gone. Defunct."
"I was attacked by four thugs when I was driving back from ISO headquarters. High end assassins, but Galactor beyond a doubt." Ken's voice lowered. "That's why I wrecked your car, Jun. I'm sorry."
Jun slumped in the booth, deflated. "It all begins again," she sighed, resting her chin on her fists and staring into space. "What a waste." Ken looked at her, face suddenly tense. "I guess we should be thankful about the reprieve. Almost two years. We'd only been fighting for three."
Jinpei looked at Ken and opened his mouth, then suddenly thought better of it and closed it again.
"That's all I had to say. Best tie up any loose ends now if you have them."
Ryu stood up suddenly. "In that case," he said, "I gotta go see my dad. Do we meet here first, or go straight to Dr. Nambu's place?"
"Go straight there. It would be better if we didn't travel together until we know the current situation."
"Got it." Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Ryu turned and left. They heard him open the sliding garage door, start up his borrowed bike, then close the door afterward.
Jinpei's gaze went from Ken to Jun and back to Ken. When the drone of Ryu's bike faded, he stood. "I'm going upstairs." The boy left noisily, clumping up the stairs and closing his bedroom door behind him. Ken stared after him, not liking the expression he'd seen in Jinpei's eyes.
Alone now, Jun turned toward Ken. "Looks like you got what you wanted, didn't you?"
"This wasn't what I wanted, believe me." Hadn't he just had this argument? "I wanted excitement. I wanted my test piloting job back. That was all. I guess it was too much to ask." He sighed heavily. "I really am sorry about your car."
She twisted around and pressed herself against his side. "I don't care about the car. Let's not talk about it anymore."
He started to put his arm around her, realized what he was doing and pulled away. It had been almost instinctive. Jun stiffened against him.
"I... I'd better get going too," he said to her. "I've been letting things slide back at the airstrip."
"Since when? You were there this morning."
"I have to--"
"You're leaving me, aren't you?" There was an uncustomary sharpness in Jun's voice. She remained where she was in the booth, trapping Ken against the wall. "Now that the war is on again, you think it can be like old times, don't you? You're going back to treating me like a stranger."
"Jun, listen--"
"Don't lie to me!"
"Jun, you're my teammate! I can't--"
"How can you just shut your feelings off? I can't! Do these two years mean that little to you? Do I mean that little to you?"
"That's not fair! You saved my sanity, back when Joe--"
"Who's being fair?" Her voice rose. "I've seen this look in your eyes before, the moment we went on our first mission. Do you know how much I hated feeling like I was a million miles away from you, even though we were standing side by side? Do you know how long we went through hell together and didn't know the most obvious things about each other? I waited all that time because I knew it was important to you. When the fighting stopped, when we lost Joe, when you crashed your plane... I set everything aside to care for you. I asked you for nothing. And now you're going to dump me, just like that? Or was this whole thing just a little game of yours?"
Ken scooted away from her, shaking his head rapidly. "Of course not! How could you think that?"
"I won't let you do this to me, do you hear me? I won't!"
Ken found his back against the wall, pressed there by her pain, her anger. With an almost convulsive movement, he stood, gouging his legs against the edge of the table, then stepped over her knees and pushed past her. She got up and pursued him across the room.
"I don't have any choice." Ken threw up his hands. "I'm the leader of this team, and I can't let this interfere with our missions. What if you're endangered? What if you get hurt? Killed?"
"You couldn't handle it when Joe died, and you weren't sleeping with him."
Ken gaped. "Jun! Holy shit--!"
"It's the truth! Maybe I should have died instead!"
"Jun," he said as gently as he could, "You're getting hysterical."
"I think I have the right." Her voice turned soft, icy. "Someone I love just told me that I no longer fit in his life."
Ken winced. "That's not true. We need you. The Team--"
"What about you, Ken?"
"I have an obligation."
"What about to yourself? To me?"
"I can't think about that anymore." Ken stopped backing from her and stood straight, an air of calm taking over. Jun could see it now; the wall was back in place. The same wall she had screamed and railed against for more than three years.
Jun's hand cracked across his face. Ken's vision vanished in a cloud of stars. His head jerked back with the blow, and he rocked back on his heels. When his vision cleared, he saw Jun glaring coldly at him, her face white.
"Ken, you bastard."
The ice melted into tears that spilled down her cheeks. Her shoulders trembled silently and she continued to glare into his eyes, letting him see those tears, knowing their effect on him.
Ken felt his innards wrench. With an effort he forced the calm upon himself again. Gently, carefully, before she could hit him again, he reached for Jun's hands. Her fists were clenched so he took her wrists instead.
"You know I'll always care for you. And you know why we have to do this. It's one of the reasons you're so special to me." He wanted so badly to kiss her, smell her hair, feel her warmth for the last time. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to take her upstairs and spend the whole afternoon with her, lost in her.
My father made that mistake too.
Then he turned and left the room.
Just as he closed the door, Jun's scream struck him from behind: "You bastard!"
His shoulders sagged, but he kept moving; climbed onto his bike, turned the key and kicked the starter. Anything else she might have screamed was drowned out by the engine. The side of his face throbbed.
"She's right, Ken." Joe's voice again. "You're an idiot, too."
"Shut up," he hissed between his teeth. "I didn't ask you."
There had been four drinking glasses on the table before Ken left. The first one had exploded against the wooden door as Ken had closed it behind him. The second had followed when she heard him slide open the garage door. The third and fourth when she'd heard him start the bike and ride away. Jun stared at the closed door, with its dark splatters of ice water running down the wood, the sea of clear shards at its base. Then all blurred through a rush of tears. "You bastard," she said again, choking on the words.
To Be Continued
Part 6