Part Five. Even more confusion - but amidst the flotsam there are answers. 22 more episodes.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 1
Betaen 6.5 1
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles”. Probably written 2468 after his release from the Mars penal colony.
Earth. An unknown bar. 2468
Then he hit me. Before I could move or react. Right on the nose. I could feel it break where it had broken before and felt the blood rush onto the table.I rocked back in the chair and noticed that there was a sudden silence in the bar. Everyone was looking. Then the music started again, the prattle, the jokes and laughter. It was just two men fighting over a woman. That still happened once in a while. Not often, but it still did.
I pinched my nose together with my thumb and forefinger like the women had shown me how to do in the pen. It had been a good punch.
She hadn’t moved. He stood up and came around the table. I started to get up but he pushed me back down.
„Lean your head back“ he said „Try not to swallow“
I leant my head back. He grabbed my nose and twisted deftly. It cracked but it didn’t hurt as much as it had before.
He sat back down and handed me a towel that the waitress had brought. I held it against my face until the bleeding stopped. They must have put some anti-coagulant on it because it stopped pretty fast.
It was only then that I thought of it. We were here to talk about the photo. Why that fucking photo of her father was so important.
„What has any of this got to do with that photo?“ I asked
„Everything“ she said.
„Catenol?“ I asked again, I couldn’t really believe it.
„Yes“ she still met my stare, and I was using my best I will not be raped stare „Catenol. Enough for a horse“
„That is why it’s always beech trees and moss right?“ I shook my head and downed my beer. There was blood in it. I have drank worse. „Because that’s what we talked about - about home and the trees and my memories“
She nodded.
„I wanted you to have a nice memory when everything fucked up“
I wanted to tell her that it had been part of the torture, part of the unknown, this mantra leading to nothing but confusion, but I didn’t. That would have been too hard on her and I could see something in her eyes that was making me start to love her again.
„How did it go down?“
He answered instead of her.
„I brought in a couple of people I knew I could trust and we triggered the Catenol when you came through the door. Used an EM pulse to do it. That would be the light you think you saw, probably affected your retinas a bit for a while“
„About three years“ I whispered into my beer. I don’t think he heard me.
„I‘ve investigated enough problem scenes on Betaen 6 to fake a good one. Everyone was certain of your guilt. Especially because there was never a body found. Just hair and skin and blood.“
I nodded. He had done a good job. His crime scene and the Catenol had put me away for a long time.
„You still haven‘t told me why?“ I said „I don‘t want to be maudlin, but I thought you loved me?“
She was sobbing. Huge gasps of air and sobs breaking from her. I had said something that hurt her as much as I had hurt the Inspector. But what had I said??
She managed to get herself under control. Choked back a sob and wiped her eyes. Looked at me with a look I hope she never gives me again.
„It's not about that. It's about you. And about me“ she drank down the dregs of her beer, trying to keep her herself together but I could see she was fraying „And its about that fucking photo. That photo is the reason why we did it. That fucking photo of my father“
I started to get up. I had to hug her. I couldn’t take this anymore.
„If you touch me I will kill you“ she whispered between her clenched teeth. Her jaw muscles were so tight they looked like wires under her skin.
I sat back down. I think she meant it.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 1.5
Betaen 6.5 1.5
The She chronicles, being read by Comle Kiera. 2799.
He lied to me that day. I know that now, sitting here contemplating the death of the girl that had sat in that chair and listened to him, savoring his every word. He was the man who had lived through Betaen 6 although he ignored all the precautions. The man who had solved Pers Larsen’s murder. That is what I thought at the time. How could a man like that lie? To a promising pupil?? There was no greater criminologist in the universe than him.
Every word had been a lie. A lie calculated to protect me – that didn’t work – but a lie still the same. It had taken me a long time to accept that he had to lie to me. Probably longer than my friend suffered delusions in prison. I made myself read the reports about him that the Inspector received. Every single one. I had done that. I felt I had to suffer too. Dying twice wasn‘t quite enough.
The communicator in my pocket blipped once. I thumbed it quiet. He didn’t even notice; he was cleaning the lens on his camera before he went out to photograph the moon. He’d told me – more than once – that the moon on Betaen 6 was even more spectacular than that of earth.
„Maybe you’ll see some beech trees too“ I said „With soft moss on them. Like when you were young and everything was simple for you.“ I pushed myself up from the table and walked around to him. He might never be like this again. I stroked the scars beneath his eyes with my thumbs and gave him a quick kiss. I wanted to envelop him, hold him, kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, fuck him. Anything but let him go through that door into the Betaen night. But I stopped it at a kiss. Otherwise. I didn‘t want to think about the otherwise.
„You should go now, while the moon is still high“ I said
He nodded.
I can still remember his last words as he walked through the door.
„Beech trees and moss. Here?“ he laughed as he closed the door behind him.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 2
Betaen 6.5 2
Earth. Chateau in Southern Germany. 1835
“Madame is not feeling well” she said as she sat opposite him “she asked me to join you for your supper so you were not alone. “
He nodded, feeling the joy bubble up inside his heart. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t stop it.
The maid served them and left. He watched her sip her wine, watched how her lips delicately kissed the crystal as she brought it to her mouth.
She smiled at him and gently laid a hand upon his arm.
“I enjoy eating dinner with you.” she looked down at her plate coyly and then up at him again “this is probably the most enjoyable meal I have had in many a year”
“I must tell the cook” he said
She laughed. “My dear General - it’s not the food - it’s the company!”
He felt faint. He felt the blood rush from his heart to his loins. He knew it was unhonorable but he enjoyed her so much.
Madame had left them and told them to enjoy the wine. He kept the conversation as harmless as he could but he was slowly realizing that there were few harmless topics with her. Suddenly out of nowhere she turned from him, setting her wine glass on the table with a flutter
“I love you” she said.
He swallowed.
“I love you” she repeated herself.
He broke into tears. Crying as if he were still a child. Sobs bursting through the demeanor he so cultivated. She reached out her hand across the table and wiped a tear away from beneath his left eye.
“You shed tears for me General?” She left her hand on his moist cheek, his old tears streaming over it. “Why do you cry kind sir?”
He shook his head, pulling away from her. He felt as if his heart and his head would both explode. He stumbled to his feet and limped away. He had to be alone. He had to be away from her. He could no longer trust himself nor trust his honor.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 3
Betaen 6.5 3
Earth. Chateau in Southern Germany. 1835.
Afterwards Madame had laughed at him and said she knew he wanted an evening cigar, but that he knew how the smoke bothered her at the moment. He could smoke in the garden, in the rose arbor. She asked the Princess if she would take his arm so he did not have to use his stick. She had smiled at him with her eyes and said of course, flying to the cigar room to bring him a cigar and matches. He lit it, nodded to Madame and took the offered arm of the Princess.
“You are certain everything is alright my dear?” He asked Madame
“Certainly my love.” She said “Please don’t bore the Princess with tales of your battles”
He nodded. The Princess tugged lightly at his sleeve and he limped off with her.
“Does the smoke not bother you my dear?”
“Nothing you do bothers me sir. “ she blushed slightly as she said it, but tightened her fingers on his arm.
He turned the conversation to the weather - remarking that it was unseasonably warm.
“If you insist upon the weather I will cheer you” she said “But that is not what I want to discuss”
He was wary and cautious and made no reply. She had drawn a confession and a caress from him already. His soul burned with the lack of honor and his desire. He felt as if he were being quartered by horses pulling on his limbs.
They reached the shade of the arbor and sat at angles to one another. If he bent forward he could touch her. So he didn’t. She used her fan to fan away the smoke from his cigar.
“My dear” he said “I will stamp it out. I did not mean to endanger your health”
She smiled at him and he saw the sun and the moon and all the stars in heaven.
“It is agreeable when you call me my dear kind sir”
“You are dear to me” he said, keeping the words he wished to say in his throat, the movements he wished to make in the tightness of his jacket.
“I am so lonely sir” she said, her long eyelashes hiding her eyes.
“You have Madame. The dogs and horses. Your maid servant and Madames as well. Next week two young ladies from the French court will visit.”
She looked up at him and he saw the fire in her dark eyes. “I pine for something else my Lord. You know that.“ she stood and paced in front of him then sat on the bench beside him.
“Your earrings are lovely” he said. They were mother of pearl formed into small bunches of grapes that hung from the golden loops through her beautiful ears.
“Madame gifted them to me” she said. “Madame said she was too old for them and they would look better on my ears than hers” she glanced at him as she spoke and he knew what she was really saying. His palms were sweaty and he wiped his hands on his trousers. Still he said nothing. He was too afraid to speak.
“I feel faint” she said, and let her head fall onto his chest. Instinctively, without thought, he put his hand into her hair. Her soft, brunette hair. He could smell her scent. The sweet smell of jasmine rising above the roses. His nostrils flared and without thought he took his other arm and embraced her. She sighed and let her weight sink into chest. His manhood responded and he hoped she did not noticed.
“It is improper” he said “I do not want to dishonor you with scandal” he straightened, removing his embracing arm but leaving his fingers gently resting in her hair. She nodded and made to raise her head. Then she winced in pain and from her mouth came a small whimper.
“Princess?!” His voice was sharp, his tone caring.
“It’s nothing. I have caught my earring on your buttons” she laughed and turned her head towards him. Was that a soft kiss he felt upon his breast? My god his manhood was ready to explode. He turned slightly to hide his erection and to help her. His arm fell from her hair to her neck and he let his fingers trail over her cool white skin. She moved, trying to free her ear and whimpered again. He turned a bit more and brought up his other arm. His hand caressed her bodice and he felt the hot hard nipple beneath his fingers. His honor and his common sense told him to remove his hand but instead he cupped her soft young breast with his palm. She sighed and looked up at him, her lips parting for a kiss - and then she fainted.
He touched her lightly on the cheek but there was no response. He let her fall back upon the bench and stood. Quickly he grasped beneath her and began to carry her back to the patio. Madame noticed and Sammy and two servants ran to him to help.
“What is it?” Madame asked
“I do not know” he said “perhaps the smoke was too much for her. I am a damned idiot to have smoked by her in this infernal heat!”
Madame laid her hand on his shoulder. “It is not your fault my love. She is young and has many things in her young mind. The heat and her disposition were just too much. “ she tuned to go to help and then turned back to him and smiled “I was so smitten with you as I saw you carrying her from the arbor. Like my young lover all over again”.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 4
Betaen 6.5 4
Earth. Chateau in Southern Germany. 1835.
He was in a melancholy mood and had removed himself from the rest of the party. He sat alone in his study, the draperies drawn, only the lamp on his desk burning , remembering. The men he had known. The men he had sent to their deaths. The women and children he had made fatherless. He was not in a good mood.
She came into the room and looked at him. Then she moved to the decanter and poured him a glass of wine. Softly she brought it to him.
„dont be so nice to me” he said
“I can’t help it” she said “I want to be nice to you“
He smiled slightly. She was still so pure.
He took the wine she had given him and toasted her. She smiled
“Madame has asked if you wont come to the parlour. The widow of the Duke is here”
He stifled a yawn and a grimace. The Dukes widow may have once been the belle of the fiefdom but now she was a surly and cantankerous old maid. Then he thought that was unkind and pushed himself up from his chair. She offered him her arm but he refused. He didnt want her that close to him. He had an idea. One that might yet save him.
He let her carry his wineglass and followed her to the parlour. The two women had just been served and were in lively conversation. He bowed to the Duchess and she thanked him again for his gallantry. She always did. It was perfect.
“How do you find the wine Duchess?” He asked, standing int he middle of the parlour, letting the evenings golden glow bathe him.
“Wonderful” she said “From your vineyards General?”
He nodded. Last years vintage had been, for the region, excellent. It was not a Rhine wine, but it had its own finesse. He sipped and toasted the ladies.
“To the Duchess.” He moved his glass and the old dowager smiled at him.
“To Madame”
His wife smiled as well.
“To the Princess, who is like a daughter to me” he said.
There. He had said it. He had cut the invisible cord they had been spinning together, the invisible web that was entrapping him. He was free.
She furrowed her brow but drank a sip from her glass.
Victims Study. Earth. 3205.
The bastard. I remember that trickery. His daughter. What a lie. To both of us. What an affront to my womanhood! He wanted me. I wanted him. And then he up and conjures me into being his daughter! He had a daughter. He didn’t need another one.
I am sitting at the same desk. 1400 years old. It’s probably priceless. When he murders me someone will make a killing selling all the things here in the chateau. It was maudlin and sentimental of me to keep them. But the feeling of that wood against my fingertips. The memories.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 5
Betaen 6.5 5
Earth. Stuttgart-Paris tube. Km 499. 3205
Malaica rode the waves, concentrating upon holding unto herself, not losing herself in the broken kaleidoscope of what she assumed was time. This would definitely be the best trip she had ever had. It must be the remains of the last pippers she had dropped aboard the liner the night before they went into earth orbit. Something had to be causing this. She was glad that her analytical mind could still grasp thoughts and then she was gone again.
Betaen 6. Office of the Comle. 2799
The flu. The fucking Ritluvian flu – as He would have stated it. Why was she thinking of the flu? Of course. It had been the determining moment for humanity as it had been up to that time – and it was what had shaped He. Many of his ramblings were to do with the flu – and even now, 300 years later, everyone still felt its ramifications. It had never been cured. To this date billions were spent on research to try and find a vaccine, but to no avail – a boy was either born with the scars and immune or developed them in his first six months. If not, he died. Much of the pain and turmoil in the book she was reading was still from the flu. It was still rampant then – coming in waves, flowing through the universe, killing. There was no other word for it. The flu killed. Remorselessly and wantonly. Kiera felt the pain they must have felt. The loss, the bereavement, the wails to Gods who did not exist. Perhaps the only good thing to come from the flu was that humanity realized there were no Gods to protect them and one of the reasons for their inter species hate – religion – fell by the wayside, useless to stop the merciless reaper known as the Ritluvian flu.
So much could have happened. Humanity’s course could have gone in so many ways. A few surviving men tried to keep their power but soon lost it – they had not expected that there would be women waiting in the wings who would relish power and might want it just as much as they did. Those women were the ones who formed the social structures that still existed to this day – Lillian, the first Primus of the triumvirate, the woman who tried and failed to limit assimilation. Emira, the woman who perhaps shaped the known universe the most – the McDonald rebellion, Hope 2, her liaison with Pers Larsen, her love for He - although still unknown to most. Fehm, the first Primus after the assimilation, the woman who brought the new human into being and coalesced the universal society between the non-assimilated and the new. The woman who had ushered in peace. Peace that they had enjoyed until now. Until this Peter had re-established a religion originally based upon love and care to fit his world view and his aims. Aims which fit -perhaps - a 20th century earth but not the universal reach of new humanity.
There was little she could do about it. Her „enemies“ on the council, especially the number two in the triumvirate – Tara – had been secretly meeting with Peter, ignoring the Synod of the religions and meeting only with the fanatics. Kiera knew why. She wondered if Tara knew why she was doing it? If she had seen the same future Kiera had seen in her timeline? And if so, why continue?
Kiera thought back to the report she had read on the return from Earth to Betaen 6, before the attack. Tara‘s jealousy of her position, her belief that she should have been elected Primus and not Kiera, had driven her to treason. Kiera would let it simmer and see where it went. Now that she knew what exactly was going on she could control things better. Tara‘s belief that Kiera had only become Primus because she was a member of the Children of Emira made her laugh. True they were tattooed at birth but that was a choice their parents made. It had nothing to do with a secret organization controlling the universe. The Children of Emira were only interested in finishing Zater. Achieving lasting universal peace. Kiera didn’t even know why they were called Children of Emira. When she thought about it, honestly, she had never even questioned it. It was just a name. For an idea. Emira had probably written of it at some time, and someone had created the order.
Kiera turned back to the mound of paperwork on the table. She had much to do, thinking of the murky beginnings of a not-so-secret society would not bring her anywhere.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 6
Betaen 6.5 6
Victims study. Chateau in Southern Germany. Earth. 3205
Assimilation cannot occur unless he and I are both dead. But it has occurred, about 700 years ago already. If it doesn’t make sense to you dont worry - it didn’t to me for the longest time either. But it doesn’t bother me anymore. I hear the door. I remember other times. I dont have long.
Earth. Same Chateau. 1835
He hadn’t seen her for days. He had been avoiding her. He thought it was best. He had taken off his jacket and vest and hung them over the nearest fence post. He had opened his shirt, for the heat was unbearable, but he needed to work - he needed physical activity to forget her - to drive the scent of her out of his nostrils, to drive the sight of her out of his eyes. And then suddenly she was there beside him, he made to dress but she stopped him by putting her soft hand on his arm.
„there is no need sir“ she said „I like the way you look „ she took her hand from his arm and laid it onto his bare chest and he felt as if he were being branded, her scent clogged his nostrils and he could not see, whether it was from the sweat streaming from his forehead over his eyes or the spell that she had just laid over him he did not know - but all he could feel was the searing of her palm on his chest.
„You are sweating General“ she said, leaving her fingertips softly against his skin „Madame has sent me with lemonade she felt that you needed to drink“ she smiled at him with her eyes, her mouth, and her entire body and he knew that he was lost forever.
The General glanced at her. She was so beautiful. She smiled at him. They had all been discussing politics and the world. He felt drained, and old and useless. He spun the fine china cup in his hand and said, for no particular reason
“I’m too old for these things anyway”
The Princess looked at him and said
“You’re not old General, you are experienced. “
He drank his coffee in one full gulp. The bitterness and the heat trying to compete for the fluttering he felt in his chest when she said such things.
Is that why he had said it? To provoke such a response ? Had he became so unremarkable?
Strange that I would have his thoughts. Perhaps it is because he is so close again.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 7
Betaen 6.5 7
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles”. Probably written 2468 after his release from the Mars penal colony.
Earth. An unknown bar. 2468
She tapped on the photo and only then did I notice that there were splatters of my blood on it. Perhaps they had always been there. It had cost me everything I had and a good portion of my life so maybe they had always been there.
He tapped the photo and I looked at him.
„The photo was communication “
I tilted my head to the side the way a dog does when it listens to us humans. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, and I felt clearer in my mind than I had for eight years.
„Its all so fucking much“ she said
He nodded.
„Too much“ he looked around „But we have to do it now and we have to do it here“
„Why here?“ I asked. Somehow I had a visceral fear of finding out the truth about that photo. Suddenly I wanted to ask any number of questions, just not any about it. I wanted to ask him what his toughest case had been? Ask her what she had done the last eight years. Ask her why she had to die, and I had to go to prison, but those two questions I was certain were the ones that would be answered by the photo.
„This bar was set up before the flu by my boss. It is untraceable. Every beer, every whisky, every box of French fries is untraceable. No snooper can find it. No snooper can hear or transcend what goes on in here. It was set up as a way point for agents of special need and agents who were so deep they couldn’t be lost.“ he snorted a bit there and took the time to light a cigarette „That they all were lost to the flu is of course the big joke. That of everyone alive in the known universe only I knew this place existed after the flu is the other joke. That it now makes me more money than I ever made with my job is the third one. And that I don’t give a fuck about it is the last joke.“
I believed him. I knew they had safe houses and all that crap before the flu. I knew they had black houses after the flu. This was a grey house. Why shouldn’t it exist? And I believed he didn’t give a fuck about the money. He wouldn’t have broken my nose otherwise.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 8
Betaen 6.5 8
Excerpt from the “He Chronicles”. Probably written 2468 after his release from the Mars penal colony.
Earth. An unknown bar. 2468
She had left the table. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she still had her jaw clenched tight. She’d said she had to go and, on the way back she would get more beer and order some bar food. He’d nodded and she left.
„She can‘t or she won’t tell me?“ I looked at him as I said it
„She can’t“
„Because she doesn’t know?“
He shook his head.
„What did I say that so upset her? I have never seen her cry like that.“
He threw his head back and laughed. Laughed. I could see some type of joy he hadn’t had for years come back into his face.
„You aren’t that stupid“ he said
I shook my head.
„No, I’m not, but I can‘t believe it“
„What’s the first thing she said to you when you saw her?“ he looked at me with a stare that was as good as mine.
„I can’t wait anymore, or something like it“
„She’d should have, but she couldn’t“ he looked me up and down like a father looks at his daughters first date, or at least like they used to before the flu „so don’t tell me you don’t know why She just bawled like a baby“
I nodded. I felt like an ass.
„It would be a lot safer for her, and for you, if she hadn’t“
„Why isn’t it safe?“ I asked, anything but ask about that damned photo.
„The photo“ he said
Now I was trapped. I couldn’t get out of it. I was going to have to learn about the photo though I sensed somewhere in me that I didn’t want to. I wanted to be left in the dark, I didn’t want to understand. I didn’t want to know. What did a photo mean that was worth faking a cops death? Putting me in jail for seven and half years? How could a simple black and white photo mean so much?
„Is she going to come back?“ I breathed in the smoke of the room and had to cough. It hurt my nose. „Or only after you’ve told me?“
He smiled. The same smile he had before he hit me. Instinctively I leant back in my chair, away from his reach. He noticed it and laughed again.
„You learned a bit in prison“ he said „Didn’t you?“
I nodded. Felt like an ass again.
She came back to the table followed by two waitresses. She had three new beers in her hands and they carried four or five plates of tacos, olives, meatballs and stuff like that. It looked good and I told him so.
I watched her while we ate. Glad that something - anything - had stopped the conversation. She kept my gaze when it met and I saw that look I had seen before. The one she had when she started to cry in her cabin. Long before she understood what was going on I guessed.
I speared a meatball with one of those little metal sticks they give you. The ones you are supposed to always give back so they can be washed and used again. It tasted good. Had some strange spice in it, one I had had before - before Betaen 6 - but somehow it tasted like that planet.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 9
Betaen 6.5 9
Apartment of the Comle. Main City. Betaen 6. 2799
Kiera closed the book. Carefully put the bookmark beside it. She had forgotten so much that she had learned in school. “The problem”. What they had been called before by the old human. The part of her that was N’Hai N’Hai chuckled. When you are ignorant you create words and worlds. Which was why she had to have the other books. The “He Chronicles” had shown her many things, and opened many doors that had been closed, but they had not answered the timestamp. Kiera wondered, as she could remember now doing when she had been a girl, why the “He Chronicles” ended so strangely. There was so much missing. If she could still piece together the timeline of the Chronicles they ended almost a decade before the assimilation. All of that time He must have written? Perhaps there had been more, and it had been lost or redacted as the “Inspector Recalls” had been. At least the “He Chronicles” had been published separately along with the “She Chronicles“, bundled together as the book “Betaen 6”, only a few years after the assimilation. It had become a standard textbook within a decade.
Redacted. She thought about that, it could well have been. She had the proof in the book she held in her hands. Never before had she read her name in the book. Redaction had been and was still being used to ensure the Zater. She herself redacted things so she could not judge.
A lot had been confiscated and censored and locked away. She only need look at the “Inspector Recalls” - they had been published only a few years before, and then only in redacted form. Her predecessor, Elf-gegu, had determined that there was no other form in which they could be released. It was a loss, but it was better than them being forever locked away. But even it, if Kiera remembered her quick perusal (she had never read it, she hadn’t the time), had little of the decade before the assimilation where She and He were together. The redaction was permanent. Even she, the new Comle, could not access the original. Elf-gegu would have had it in her timeline but she passed on and it had passed with her.
Zater had almost completely been achieved. It had taken, and would still take, a bit longer than had been expected but it had been achieved. All the N’Hai N’Hai had physicality. All “the problem” (she laughed internally, and it felt good) had become one with the humans. The new human had been born. And the symbiosis continued in the new births. Kiera herself had been born assimilated. That had been a fear of all the N’Hai N’Hai. That there would only be one generation of the Zater. But no, it was permanent, and they lived on. It was not everything they had expected, she felt the N’Hai within her nod solemnly, but it was the Zater. Physical being - that was worth any sacrifice.
She picked up her communicator and toggled it on. Her adjutant answered immediately.
“Is the “She Chronicles” book proofed yet?”
“It will be finished this afternoon.” She said “I took the liberty of also ordering the “Inspector Recalls” and the notebook of Pers Larsen. Your consort already has the green notebook if I am not mistaken?”
Kiera let a feeling of warmth wash over her. Competent associates made everything so much easier. Her adjutant had known she would want all the books, perhaps need all the books.
“Thank you” she said “Tell everyone I am going to rest now. Have the Colonel bring them with her with the evening report”
“Yes Comle” there was a pregnant pause. Kiera could feel the unspoken.
“What is it?” She asked
She could hear movement as her adjutant shuffled in her chair.
“Get well Comle”
“I will” she said and thumbed off her communicator.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 10
Betaen 6.5 10
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
Earth. Office of The Inspector. 2461
We had been on earth for almost 2 years, loitering as the Inspector called it, simply cleaning up paperwork and shit like that, before we got the call. The governess of Bepgidt 4 had declared a state of emergency and introduced trial by ordeal as the acceptable and correct legal system on Bepgidt 4. They had already sent an emergency response team to stamp out that idea - and likely the governess and her cohorts as well - but they needed an investigative team and judges to follow up on the cases that were now in limbo awaiting a fair and correct trial. Of course, the Inspector got the call to lead the investigative team. The woman who had sentenced my murderer on Betaen 6 would be leading the jurisprudence team.
Bepgidt 4 is the habitable planet farthest from earth. It would take us 12 jumps to get there. The jurisprudence team would need only 9. Instinctively I already knew the calculations for the first 6 jumps, but the Inspector wouldn’t let me use that information nor share it with anyone. He was probably right. If we had arrived on Bepgidt 4 before the team from Betaen 6 it would probably have wreaked havoc with all of his plans and might have cost me my life.
So, we prepared for a 9-to-11-month journey to Bepgidt 4. All the time we were in calculation mode he had the planet send us the outstanding cases. There were 12 of us on board the liner. We divided up the cases between us and got to work. Space travel always sounds so romantic and exciting until you actually do it. A plane flight through the atmosphere of a planet is a lot more exciting. Space travel is boring. You can look out a dark viewer window at the dark. You can wander the decks. You can play volleyball or pua-tut in the gym. You can swim in one of the pools. Eat at all the different restaurants. But being locked inside a cube for almost a year, regardless of how luxurious your suite - and we had the best suites - is almost like being in prison.
I liked it that way. I wanted to share something with him, even if he didn’t know I was. I wanted to share that feeling of being trapped, of not being free to move. It was only after I started to read the reports coming in once they released him from the mental ward into the open prison that I realized that what I was suffering would never match what he would have to suffer. The last report I had read stated that two days after his release into the open prison, although still quite addled, he had been raped five times by three different women and had his arm and nose broken for resisting them.
The Inspector had known I would read it and he spoke as soon as he saw me blanch.
“He’s tough below the surface” he reached for his pack of cigarettes “You know that. He doesn’t look it at first glance, but he is. He’ll learn.”
“And if he doesn’t?” I asked
“He will” he said and lit a cigarette.
Betaen 6. Part Five. 11
Betaen 6.5 11
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469.
Earth. An unknown bar. 2468
He was on his second coffee and my first was a sad brown puddle in the cup when the Inspector arrived.
“Did you like the MoMA?” Was the first thing the Inspector asked as he sat down.
He just nodded. Somehow prison had made him shy. I knew he was proud of that photograph, but he hadn’t said a word about it except “That is mine”. He’d followed me through the exhibition and it wasn’t until we were on the plane back that he said anything about it at all. Even then it wasn’t what I had expected. He just said thank you. That was all.
The waitress was there quickly after the Inspector sat down. He didn’t have to order. She knew what he wanted and we both just nodded our acquiescence. The beer came first, along with a coffee and an ashtray.
The Inspector sipped at his beer, wiped the froth from his lip with the back of his hand and looked at him.
“The communication you had was correct in every instance”
He nodded.
“Two crashes yesterday because of unforeseen and incalculable cross winds. If a Lander could be built differently then it would be safer.”
“Any deaths?” He asked.
The Inspector shook his head.
“Just bruises and cuts and a couple of broken ribs.” The Inspector drank more beer “Nothing to write home about” then he looked across the table at him, glanced at me and said
“Has she told you yet about the dream she keeps having?”
I startled. That’s not what we were here to talk about. We were here to talk about his communication.
“What’s that got to do with the communication?” I blurted it out
The Inspector looked at me.
“More than you can imagine” he said
He turned his head to see the Inspector, something he had learned in prison. Never just move your eyes.
“No” his gaze swiveled back to me and he didn’t have to ask the question I saw there.
I looked down at my beer. I felt the same as I had the night when we sat at exactly the same table and I told him I had given him the Catenol and framed him for my murder.
I couldn’t look up. I couldn’t tell him I kept dreaming of his wife and I plotting to kill him. Of her and I together. It wasn’t the sex thing. I wasn’t afraid or embarrassed about that. I had slept with a fair share of women. Of course I had. There weren’t that many men anymore. It was that it was her. And that I knew more about her than he did. He’d spent almost two years after she died in an alcoholic wasteland. Because he had lost the woman he loved. But he hadn’t known who it was he loved. I didn’t want to be the one to tell him who she had been.
The food came. It was a welcome respite. I didn’t want to be the one to tell him who his wife really was. I was certain it would be that proverbial last straw and he would break on me. I couldn’t lose him again.
They both stared at me. Said nothing but they didn’t have to. I speared a meatball. Ate it slowly. Drank some more beer. Tried to pull together the courage to tell him.
“Its just a dream” He said
I turned to the Inspector “He doesn’t think so” I pointed at him with my little metal spear.
Betaen 6. Part Five 12
Betaen 6.5 12
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
Earth. An unknown bar. 2468
The Inspector nodded.
“No. I don’t think it’s just a dream. It’s communication.” he lit a cigarette. He was getting nervous. “I am not certain, but I think its communication.”
I swallowed my beer slowly and deliberately. I had told him about the Catenol. I could tell him this. I was strong enough. I just hoped he was too.
“About three years ago, maybe a bit more, on the way back from Bepgidt 4 the Inspector gave me a file.” I stopped, remembering the feeling I had had as I opened it and there was nothing there. The hope that it would stay blank. The knowledge that it wouldn’t. I looked down at my hand grasping the beer mug. I couldn’t look at him.
“What’s that got to do with a recurring dream?” He asked
“The dream I have. No. First I’ll tell you about it.” I drank a large gulp of beer. Waited a moment. Forced myself to look up. He deserved to see me when I told him. He deserved at least that much.
“The file was a class nine file. There isn’t any higher in case you don’t know.”
He nodded. Had probably learned about them in prison.
“It was about your wife” I breathed through my nose like I had been trained to do when nervousness and fear begin to take over “She was..” my voice broke
“The Minister for the Interior for over eight years” he whispered.
“You knew?” I think I screamed at him because other tables turned to look.
He shook his head.
“I found out in prison” he licked his lips “I’d just landed. A few months before me they had a transfer from Plage 3 - a terrorist. She was a big wig in the prison. Lots of people, guards included, did what she said.” He paused there as if he were remembering something distasteful “She’d been in prison there since the Hope rebellion. She was one of the terrorists that assassinated the Vice-Admiral. She was lucky enough not to be on Hope.”
“You know what happened on Hope 2?” The Inspector asked the question.
He nodded. “She told me everything.” He smirked and licked his lips again “I don’t think I had been out of the Lander for more than 15 minutes and she had already found me.” His hand inadvertently stroked his nose “What is it you women like about breaking men’s noses?”
He drank his beer empty. The Inspector waved to the waitress. We were going to need more.
“She thought I knew. She knew who I was. Why I was there. Found it funny that I had killed a cop. She had been some higher up on Hope and answered to my wife, so she knew everything there was to know and still had enough contacts that she wasn’t out of touch.”
“What did you think?” I had to ask it. I knew he still loved her although she had been gone so long.
“After I set my nose again and got over the first shock, I thought yes that fits, she would have the resolve to do that. To stop interplanetary war. Accept the responsibility and the cost. She would do that.”
The Inspector nodded.
“It’s true” he said” What your wife did, however horrific, stopped thousands of the other horrors that would have come to pass if the Hope rebellion had been successful. The confederation would have fallen apart and we would have had anarchy and never-ending war - 20th century Earth on a universal scale.”
We had all sat in silence for a long while. Drank another round of beer, nibbled at the now cold food. Sent it away and got another round of beer.
Then He reached across the table and took my hand.
Betaen 6. Part Five 13
Betaen 6.5 13
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
Earth. An unknown bar. 2468
“I think she kept me in the dark for the same reason you had me murder you” he smiled his laconic smile “You both loved me and wanted to protect me. A strange way to do it but that’s what I tell myself every day.”
I squeezed his hand and held it. I wasn’t going to let him go while I told him about the dream. I could do this.
“You must have known somehow?” I had to ask it. How could he have been with her, seen her with the people she must have been with, and not known? “Didn’t you ever see her with Lillian?”
He nodded. His lips were dry and he licked them again. I couldn’t remember if that was something he did before he went to prison or not.
“But I never knew her as Lillian.” He said and tightened his grip on my hand, as if he wanted to make sure I didn’t pull away from him “I called her Petra. That’s how she introduced herself. She was actually over for dinner more than once. I have cooked for her. Never knew who she was then. Thought she was just my wife’s boss.”
“But she is Lillian!” I whispered it harshly “How the fuck can you not have known who she was? You’re not that stupid!”
The Inspector came to his rescue.
“No he’s not.” he said, breathing out smoke between us “But at that time my dear, you have to remember - no one knew that there was a triumvirate controlling everything. It’s only after the fourth wave - where his wife died remember - that they came out into the open. Revealed themselves so to say. Abolished the senate and took control.”
I looked down from his eyes. I couldn’t hold his gaze anymore. I nodded, put my free hand on top of his and grasped it tight. His fingers stroked the back of my other hand. I knew he had forgiven me. Maybe He had even forgiven me for Betaen 6.
He took his hand from between mine. The waitress had just brought new food. Took a metal spear and speared an olive. It was one of the multi-colored ones from Watch 3. The planet was famous for its olives. I wondered how they managed to get through snooper free. I knew what I was doing. Anything but telling him about the dream. I watched him eat the olive. Enjoy it. Take a swig of beer.
“You haven’t told me the dream yet” he said as he put down his mug.
“Its not important” I said
The Inspector tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to look at him. He just stared at me, didn’t say a word. Fuck. I was going to have to tell him about the dream.
“I had the first dream the night after I had read that folio.” I sipped my beer, forced myself to look at him. His eyes were questioning, open, I hadn’t seen him be that open since I had picked him up. It felt good. I hoped he would stay that way after I told him the dream.
“I thought it was only a typical dream about the day, bit weird and mixed up but just a dream about the day.”
Betaen 6. Part Five 14
Betaen 6.5 14
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
Earth. An unknown bar. 2468
He nodded.
“I didn’t have it again until I started to follow you after you were released from prison” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Since then, it comes every couple of days. No pattern, no regularity. But it comes back”
“And?” He said
“In the dream I am with your wife. And we plot to kill you. To get rid of you.”
He looked at me and then at the Inspector and back to me. His eyes were still open, that veil he’d had over them since prison wasn’t there.
“Nice dream” He said and laughed. “Almost worked” Laughed again.
I didn’t. I know he meant well and it was supposed to be a joke to lighten the situation. But I didn’t feel like that. I felt like I was betraying him again.
He swiveled in his chair to look at the Inspector. That was another thing he always did, sat right on the edge of the chair, never really in it. Even prison hadn’t taken that from him.
“How’s the dream communication?”
“Whenever the two of you receive a communication - at least so far - it’s always something emotional. No other communicator has ever had an emotional communication. When they are understandable it’s always something like what you told us yesterday. High winds. Gas pocket in the mine. That type of stuff.”
He took another olive. Ate it. I could see he was thinking.
“OK. I’ll buy into that.” Speared another olive but just held it on that metal rod “But what is it supposed to mean?”
“Did the photo of her father mean anything?” The Inspector looked over at me “Except of course the bond she had with her father?”
He drank down the rest of his beer. Bit his upper lip with his teeth. His eyes weren’t veiled.
“OK.” Nodded. Finally ate the olive he had been pointing with. “I can get that.”
I breathed out deeply. I hadn’t known it but I had been holding my breath, waiting for his final response. That it was to eat an olive was not what I had expected. But then none of our encounters since He was out of prison had been what I expected.
“They were the deposition of life, life held brutally in check by the artists brush, his cruelty. “ The painting. The black notebook of Pers Larsen. Pers Larsen
Apartment of the Comle. Main City. Betaen 6. 2799
Kiera put the bookmark back in the book and laid it on the bed stand beside her. It was time for her to rise. She was Comle. What had happened had to be put behind her. It was the timestamp, of that she was certain, but there were many other things she still had to attend to that day. All the seemingly so simple – and many of them were she thought - tasks that mostly filled her day, things she had to see, decide upon, pass on to others.
As she opened her bedroom door she suddenly thought of it. The dream. Kiera had forgotten it was in the book. She and Emira together. That enigmatic communication that had been interpreted by so many historians and so many scientists. Books upon books, manuscripts piled atop others. All about the dream sequence as they had called it.
Kiera herself believed it had been the signal for how the assimilation would have to be. She wondered if She had ever realized that before it was too late. Though again, without it there would never have been assimilation.
Betaen 6. Part Five 15
Betaen 6.5 1.5
The She chronicles, being read by Comle Kiera. 2799.
He lied to me that day. I know that now, sitting here contemplating the death of the girl that had sat in that chair and listened to him, savoring his every word. He was the man who had lived through Betaen 6 although he ignored all the precautions. The man who had solved Pers Larsen’s murder. That is what I thought at the time. How could a man like that lie? To a promising pupil?? There was no greater criminologist in the universe than him.
Every word had been a lie. A lie calculated to protect me – that didn’t work – but a lie still the same. It had taken me a long time to accept that he had to lie to me. Probably longer than my friend suffered delusions in prison. I made myself read the reports about him that the Inspector received. Every single one. I had done that. I felt I had to suffer too. Dying twice wasn‘t quite enough.
_________________________
The communicator in my pocket blipped once. I thumbed it quiet. He didn’t even notice; he was cleaning the lens on his camera before he went out to photograph the moon. He’d told me – more than once – that the moon on Betaen 6 was even more spectacular than that of earth.
„Maybe you’ll see some beech trees too“ I said „With soft moss on them. Like when you were young and everything was simple for you.“ I pushed myself up from the table and walked around to him. He might never be like this again. I stroked the scars beneath his eyes with my thumbs and gave him a quick kiss. I wanted to envelop him, hold him, kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, fuck him. Anything but let him go through that door into the Betaen night. But I stopped it at a kiss. Otherwise. I didn‘t want to think about the otherwise.
„You should go now, while the moon is still high“ I said
He nodded.
I can still remember his last words as he walked through the door.
„Beech trees and moss. Here?“ he laughed as he closed the door behind him.
Betaen 6. Part Five 16
Betaen 6.5 16
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
Earth. Unknown landing platform. 2465
We arrived back at earth in the middle of a storm. It was a bumpy ride down in the Lander. But it was good to be home. As much as I enjoyed the pleasures and sights of other planets, I still thought earth had the most to offer. I know that makes me a Luddite in the eyes of most, but I’ll accept it. I’ve accepted a lot worse in my life.
Rain pelted us as we emerged from the Lander onto the platform. It wasn’t even covered. What the hell was going on? We weren’t at the central terminal in New York. We were - I had no idea where we were - and the storm pelting into my eyes and wetting me through didn’t help my orientation any at all.
The woman who met us - standing safely out of the rain - was wearing more gold braid on her shoulders than I had ever seen before. The lightning flash on her left breast told us everything. SP. Secret Police. I felt a tang of fear. They had found out who I really was. I also wondered once again why it was that we, the real police, wore no uniforms, but the “secret” police flaunted theirs.
The Inspector, the rest of the team, and I all crowded into the waiting room where she and an adjutant stood waiting for us. The flunky welcomed us in her name and asked the Inspector and me to please go directly on to the Colonel. I looked at him and he made a small hand signal not to worry. I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t want to be dissected.
When she spoke to me, she used my name. Not the one of the woman who died on Betaen 6. I felt my liver lose its grip on my intestines. Welcomed me home. Then she turned to the Inspector and called him by name as well. Warmly grasped his hand and shook it. Something was up.
“Inspector” she said “You’ve spent a lot of time with your assistant. Do you trust her?”
He nodded.
“Implicitly?”
He nodded again.
She made a slight hand gesture to her adjutant and she ushered the others down a plastic covered corridor into the terminal. She watched them leave. Then she turned back to the Inspector and me.
“You’ve got to take the Lander back up as soon as its ready”
He just nodded. He was more used to this type of thing than I was.
I think she expected him to ask her a question, but I knew him better than that. He wouldn’t. His fingers jerked slightly though, and I knew he was craving a cigarette.
She waited a good two or three minutes before she broke the silence. She obviously wasn’t used to being the one that did. Not unexpected from a Colonel in the SP.
“You closed the Pers Larsen case years ago am I correct?”
He nodded.
“Under” she looked up and to the left “special circumstances”
He nodded again.
“You’re going to have to reopen the case”
This time he spoke.
“Why?”
She looked at me and then back to him. When she spoke it was barely a whisper.
“They’ve found his ship”
Betaen 6. Part Five 17
Betaen 6.5 17
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
Earth. Unknown landing platform. 2465
If you were to think there was no enmity lost between the SP and us real policewomen you’d be dead on correct. Pompous bastards. Dangerous pompous bastards. With their snoopers - electrical and human - everywhere. Set up after the second wave, supposedly originally by his wife. What a joke that would be on the two of us if it were true. Because I had to believe the Inspector, she too had loved him, and she too had tried to keep him from them.
The Colonel didn’t stay long. Long enough to intimidate all the other passengers disembarking from the Lander but not long enough to really make it worthwhile. We sat in the disembarkation lounge and waited for the Lander to be ready to take us back up. The Inspector had already arranged for us to get a different suite than the two cabins planned for by the SP. He didn’t trust them anymore than I did. Sometimes it was nice to have money in the bank.
We didn’t talk. There was no need to, and nowhere where we could have said anything we wanted to anyway. It was too risky. Too dangerous. No one on Larsen`s ship was alive - at least no scans had shown any thermal activity or any other signs of life, no oxygen carbon dioxide conversion, no change in the atmospheric water concentration. They were too afraid it might be a new variant of the Ritluvian flu to go onboard. I didn’t have to even guess what planet it was orbiting around. It couldn’t have been any other. We would have to make an extra jump to get to Sagan 1, a planet they had named after some astrophysics professor in the 20th century. The universes best natural sciences university was there, actually three of them. It was a planet after all. There we would pick up a team of natural scientists, physicists, chemists, biologists and virus experts. All to study the ship. And the corpses if there were any. Maybe piece together what had happened - other than that their jump had been deliberately fucked up. That was our job – to make sure they couldn’t find that out. Waiting for us above the planet was a folio of information on the original cargo, crew and passengers. We were supposed to find out how it got back.
He would never have left the room without his shoes on. He was fastidious about such little things.
Why was I thinking that? What did it have to do with Pers Larsen`s ship? I knew my mind well enough to know that there was a reason why I suddenly thought about his fastidiousness about his shoes. But why now?
I am not that naive that I don’t know you lose things. That things get mixed up. Important things. Things that matter. Things that make your life worthwhile. But why did I have to lose him?
Why?
Why fucking whatever why?
Why????
WHY?????
WHYYYYYYY??????????
Betaen 6. Part Five 18
Betaen 6.5 18
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
Spaceship orbiting Betaen 6. Probably 2465.
Everyone on our ship understood that the Inspector and I would be the first to physically board Pers Larsen`s ship. None of them liked it but they understood it and the SP officer traveling with us made sure they accepted it. It didn’t take much. No one wanted to spend time on Mars or Plage 3.
We understood that our mission was really simple - there were only two things for us to do:
1. see if we could find Pers Larsens body and dispose of it if necessary.
And
2. Find out why the ship had suddenly appeared in orbit around Betaen 6.
That neither of them might be quite as simple as we hoped never left our minds.
The Inspector and I had been over and over it. Every minute. Every plan. Every name of every person on that ship. After three weeks of it we had enough. He had printed out a story he liked to read. One he’s had for a while. Handed it to me at dinner. I called him a Luddite and he laughed. Told me just to take the time to read it, that it was good.
I said OK so when I was back in my room I flipped it open. About 7 typed pages. Just the right amount to read before bed.
Betaen 6. Part Five 19
Betaen 6.5 19
Typewritten story by an unknown author. Being read by She, somewhere in space.
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
Teabags and Streets
He sat. As he did every day at that hour. Five days a week. A ritual like all the other rituals. It kept him alive. Perched on the edge of the chair, elbows clamped against the tabletop, keeping his tall, lanky frame from falling over. He faced the street, the roar of the incessant traffic audible even through the dusty double paned windows. A never-ending cacophony. Some modern symphony by a composer with no sense of musicality or rhythm. Eleven twenty. He drowned the tea bag once again, savoring the aroma of the long dead leaves. What foreign hands had picked those cusps, dried them in the sun? Were they as lonely as the hands that faithfully drowned them? The bright grey sky hurt his eyes, so he diverted his gaze from the window. He stared instead at the knuckles of his left hand and counted the crawling black hairs there. He would not look at the empty chair. He never did. Counting hairs passed the time. He also knew how many scratches there were in the wood of the table. Some of them he may have made. Or her. It passed the time. Counting things. He was alive and he passed time. It was not at all that different than passing water.
He sat. Drowning his teabag. Listening to the conversations at the other tables, especially that three tables to his left. They were the loudest. Whether by chance or choice he did not care. They discussed him. He did not care. It didn’t matter, or better yet, it mattered less than who had picked his tea. So, he sat, listened, and methodically raised and lowered his teabag into the steaming cup.
“Who is that?”
“Who?”
“The man in the black turtleneck. By the window. Does he ever drink his tea?”
“At eleven thirty”
“What?”
“Just what I said. For ten minutes he dunks his teabag until the liquid is oil and no one could drink it if they tried. But then he quaffs it down, leaves the money on the table – always a twenty-cent tip – and leaves”
“What does he do?”
“When he leaves?”
“No auntie! For a living!” The one who spoke was younger, raven haired, a look of unexpected innocence and charm in her dark eyes.
“He is a poet” the older woman laughed, layered hair, sparkling carats dangling from her ears “A damn fool he is. No one is a poet anymore”
“A poet? A real poet?”
“Yes. In the flesh, if that is what he is. Personally I think he’s made of dirt.” She deliberately raised her voice on “dirt”.
She sipped her coffee and stared at him. Daring him. He had no idea what her dare was, nor did he care to resolve it.
“He’s not a bad poet either. Brilliant. I’ve read some of his poems.”
“You have?”
“Of course.” More coffee ran down her gullet “He is as free with his mind as his wife was with her body.”
“What?” A perfect intonation of shocked society.
“You mean you didn’t know?”
“Know what?”
“You innocent little thing” he could see the hand movement without looking “Well ….”
He had heard it all before. He had lived it. Once he would have felt anger. But what for. She was dead. They were all dead. So, he drank his tea, put a bill on the tabletop and left. He smiled at the two ladies as he did.
“Tell her about my appointment” he said as he walked by their table.
Betaen 6. Part Five 20
Beaten 6.5 20
Typewritten story by an unknown author. Being read by She, somehwre in space.
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
He sat on the balcony in the warmth of the sun and drank tequila from the bottle, straight. That was what they had drank the last day. Self-made margaritas. He did it every day. The other ritual. Drank until he felt the pain again. Sitting on the folding plastic chair, the purple flowered cushion – she had loved those stupid purple flowers – staring at him from the empty chair. This chair he could look at. He did not know why. When the pain was too much to bear, he stood up and put the cushions back inside, folded up the two plastic chairs and stacked them against the wall. Then he put the tequila in the cupboard, beside the other bottles, put on his coat and left.
He always bought the flowers at the same shop. He bought them everyday. Saturday he would buy six instead of three. Whatever was in season. Whatever was cheapest.
Everything was as it should be until he got there. But now there was someone else there. The young woman from the café. He ignored her. People always left when he ignored them long enough. Like they weren’t there - and they weren’t unless he made them appear. But she wouldn’t go away.
He held the three flowers in his hand and stared at her dully. It had taken more tequila than usual to feel the pain again. He knew he was swaying, and he didn’t care. Just as long as she went away. What was this stupid woman to him anyway?
“Excuse me” he slurred “I have something I have to do.”
She glanced at him. Met his stare. The bloodshot eyes. The sweet, exhaled smell of tequila flowing from him. She had somehow thought him tragic earlier in the day. She snorted at herself. He was a drunk.
“You have to get drunk to come here?”
He swayed a little, the tulips dangling from his hand. Then he laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” She said in exasperation.
“You are standing on my wife” he laughed again. Pushed past her. “No one did that before.” He had knelt to put the tulips down. He looked back up at her. “You’re the first” he burped.
What had she wanted from this broken man? This drunkard? What had she thought he could give to her? She ran. Her stiletto heels echoed among the gravestones.
He sat again at the table. As he always did. They brought him his tea without his having to ask. He liked it that way. He began his ritual, the ritual drowning of the leaves. He felt her presence before he heard her breathing. Slowly he swiveled on the chair, careful not to slide off. He always sat on the very edge. Always.
He said nothing. Why should he? He just looked up at her. As he had in the graveyard a week before. What did he have to say to her? Nothing. He had already said it.
“May I sit with you?” she asked
“There are lots of empty tables” he replied and turned back to his teabag.
It took her a fraction of a second to swallow the rebuke.
“I know” she said “I don’t want to sit at them.”
He turned from her and dropped his teabag back into the cup. Watched it sink.
“May I?” She questioned
“I thought you would.”
“Thank you”
“I don’t own the table.” He swiveled and pointed behind the chrome gilded bar, “I think she does.”
“Are you always so friendly?” she said as she sat.
“Are you?”
She looked away from him, turning to watch the cars in the street.
“Coffee”
She heard him say it and turned to see the waitress leaving. She looked back over her shoulder at her as she walked behind the bar.
“Why did she do that?”
“For almost two years I have sat here alone. They wonder about you “
“And you?”
“I wonder about no one”
“Tough man, eh?”
He smiled and saved the drowning teabag with his spoon.
“Perhaps” he drowned it again “I don’t think so”
The waitress brought the coffee, stared at her as she set it down.
“She thinks you’re like my wife” he said, answering her question before she spoke it.
“What do you mean”
“Free with your body”
“I…” she stammered.
He smiled. For the first time.
“It’s not your past” he checked his wristwatch and put the teabag beside the cup.
“Aren’t you going to drink that?” He motioned at her coffee.
“Uhmm. Yes. When it’s cooler”
“My wife did that too” he smiled again but there was pain in his eyes, she could see it “Maybe all women are like that “
“Where do you go after you drink your tea?”
Betaen 6. Part Five 21
Betaen 6.5 21
Typewritten story by an unknown author. Being read by She, somewhere in space.
Excerpt from the “She Chronicles” Written 2459 - 2469
“You mean your aunt hasn’t told you yet? I thought I was worth more gossip”
“I didn’t believe her”
“It’s true” he slurped down half the oily liquid in the cup “ You can come when I am finished. If you don’t mind being with a crazy man. You’ll see it’s true”
“It can’t be” she stuttered out the words “you seem so, so…” she trailed off.
“Normal?” He asked
She blushed and looked down into the depths of her cup.
“I am” he said “he scratched his nose “What normal man wouldn’t do what I am doing? What normal man wouldn’t …”
He stopped and downed the remains of his tea, fished the bill out of his pocket and left it on the table.
“I’m afraid you have to pay for your own” he said “I only bring enough these days for me”
‘Please wait”
“I can’t” he leaned over her slightly as he put his jacket on, and she thought he smelled of forests and wheat and sun on the wooden slats of her window when she was a child “I can’t be late. She’d be alone. Scared. All alone there. I know what it is like to be scared.”
He left. Hurriedly she slapped a larger denomination bill on the table, the first one she pulled from her wallet. Dragging her coat behind her she followed him. She ran to catch up with him.
“You” she panted “you know?’
“That she is dead?” He laughed at her “don’t be absurd. I don’t stagger to that bloody cemetery to be by myself.”
“Then” her heels tapped on the cobblestones like an angry blind man’s cane “Why?”
He stopped walking and turned to her. Her young face was still showing signs of youth. But the woman had already peeked through. Her raven hair framed her face, it was billowing slightly in the wind and a strand or two were flicking in front of her eyes. Green eyes. Straight nose. Full mouth.
“Find someone else to psychoanalyze”
He strode away from her, walking quickly. He was late.
He didn’t drink that afternoon. Just sat in the sun and let it blind him. He didn’t need the tequila today. The pain was right beneath his skin. What did she want from him? Was she writing a diploma thesis on angry middle-aged men? Men who had lost everything?
“Papa?” The cry echoed up from the street. He leapt to his feet. Ran to the balustrade.
“What is it?” he screamed “Are you OK?”
She hadn’t called for him for so long.
“I want my Papa”
It was the neighbors kid.
“It’s OK” he yelled down into the street. It seemed emptier now. “He’s probably just in the back. I’ll go get him”
He walked to the door, left the flat and went down the stairs. Rang the doorbell on the ground level apartment. The one to the left of the staircase, in a moment it opened.
“Micheal” he said „your kid wants you.”
“Thanks, I didn’t hear her” came the reply.
“I know” he looked down at the scuffed tiles of the entryway hall “I used to do that too.”
As he walked away up the stairs Micheal followed him with his eyes. Only when he was back in his flat did he go out to his daughter.