Gaea

Chapter 6

by Baybelletrist

Mars City Police Department

7/29/2098, 1909

"What were you doing at the Widner Building?" Zach asked.

Silence.

"Who's the man the police found in your apartment?"

No answer. Nicole Galloway sat, hands cuffed before her and chained to the table, in an interrogation room in the bottom level of the police department. Since coming to inside an armored transport, she had submitted passively, allowing herself to be fingerprinted, photographed, and led to a holding cell. A department paramedic had examined her briefly and then ordered food, which she had eaten quietly and with attention to her table manners. Eyeing the scraped-clean plate, the paramed had ordered a second meal, which Nicole had consumed with equal dispatch. After yelling down the hall for a third tray, the paramed had asked, "How long has it been since you've eaten?" Nicole had raised her eyes to his, face calm, and said nothing.

Now Zach glanced at his chrono. They had been interrogating Nicole for more than three hours, to be met only with the same imperturbable silence.

A knock at the door; one of the guards answered it, and Doc poked his head into the room. "Captain?"

Zach followed Doc into the hallway, leaving the two officers in the room to guard Nicole. Goose and Niko stood outside the two-way mirror, watching the silent young woman.

"Well, like we figured, her papers are faked," announced Doc. He held up his CDU. "Actually, they weren't a bad job. They passed my first sweep, but once I went back and started seriously trying to trace her on Earth, the I.D. fell apart like wet paper after just a couple of queries. But here's what's screwy: There's nothing on this girl."

"Yeah?" Zach raised his eyebrows. "We'd already figured out she had no criminal record—"

Doc shook his head. "No, Zach, I mean there's nothing. No birth records, no school, no credit history or driver's license. And here's the really weird part: Immigration and Customs has a record of Nicole Galloway entering Mars territory at the spaceport—but her name doesn't appear on any passenger manifest. Ever. And no one answering her description ever traveled on any of the commercial passenger-carrying vessels, or as a properly registered passenger on any private ship."

"Then she must have found someone to smuggle her in." Zach frowned. "Or... could she have stowed away?"

"It's possible," Doc said dubiously. "But that's kind of hard to do, what with most ships carrying security AIs."

"There are ways to do that with telepathy." Niko turned her head to look over at them. "They skirt the edge of what my people consider acceptable, but someone running for her life might not have the same scruples."

"Great," Doc muttered. "A telepath without any morals."

"I doubt she's that bad," Niko said. "She didn't kill the men who shot at her. It's hard to sort out the images I saw, but I think she even tried to get them out before the fire got too bad. There is a difference between hiding yourself with telepathy and, for example, hurting someone."

"Putting semantics aside," Zach cut in, "Doc, you're saying that for all intents and purposes, this girl doesn't exist, and we have no idea where she came from."

"That's about it," Doc answered.

"Great," Goose said. "Who the hell is she?"

Zach ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Well, it's clear we're not getting anywhere this way. Let's break, get some food and a night's rest, and then try again tomorrow."

"Let her cool her heels in holding overnight," Doc agreed. "Maybe she'll be more inclined to talk."

"Captain, I'm going to stay here, keep an eye on her," Goose said. "She shouldn't be left alone with the guards. Even with the e-locks she'd have to get through, I don't trust that she wouldn't be able to escape from here."

Zach hesitated.

"Come on, Zach, it's not like I haven't pulled all-nighter guard duty before. If you'll wait a couple minutes I'll grab something to eat and come back."

"Okay, I'll admit it's a good idea. You sure you don't want backup?"

"Captain, no offense, but she took out you and Doc with one try, and Niko—"

"Goose, I'm fine. I'm perfectly capable of standing guard," Niko said stiffly.

He looked evenly at her. "You look tired," he said quietly. "Get some rest. You can always get up and come relieve me early tomorrow morning."

Niko opened her mouth to protest, but Zach gently cut her off. "Niko, why don't you plan on doing that? Go get some sleep. Goose will probably be glad to have a break come five in the morning. I'd rather have one alert and well-rested Ranger here than two tired ones."

Niko frowned. "All right, all right. Let's go get some food, then."

"If you're gonna leave right now, somebody please bring me food, will you?" reminded Goose. "I'm hungry."

"When aren't you, my Goose man?"

MCPD Holding Block 2

7/30/2098, 0326

Goose leaned against the wall and counted the specks in the tile. In the wee hours of the morning, he decided, the best descriptor for Holding Block 2 of the Mars City Police Department was "dead boring."

Goose glanced into Nicole Galloway's cell, where she still lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.

Wonder if she's counting specks, too?

Nearby a two-man janitorial crew busied themselves with a floor-polishing machine, the most interesting thing that had happened all night. Goose caught himself watching in fascination and nearly laughed. One of the workers, a short, wiry man with sandy blond hair, looked up and caught his eye.

"Evening, Ranger," the man said amiably with a polite smile. "Or maybe I should say morning."

His coworker, a tall, lithely muscular man with brown hair, glanced around from the circuits he was adjusting and scowled at the blond man. "Quit slacking," the darker man grumbled. "Bad enough the stupid 'bot's down and we have to do this, now you're gonna leave it to me?"

The polishing machine started up again with a whine of moving parts. Goose winced at the noise. With a nod, the blond man turned back to work, and the two began guiding the polisher slowly across the floor.

Goose stretched and decided on another cup of the vile stuff the vending machine company dared to call coffee.

"I'm going for coffee," he called to Private Warren, the officer at the guard station down the hall. Warren waved without looking up from his monitors.

The sound of the floor polisher faded a bit as Goose turned the corner into the tiny break room. He fed in his credit chip and watched the acrid-smelling liquid stream into his cup. Wonder how old this thing is? I thought Doc said once that all the vending machine companies went over to using fresh-ground coffee way back at the turn of the century. He stretched again and wondered when Niko might be showing up, and if she would be cross with him when she did.

The holding area seemed very quiet suddenly, and he frowned as he picked up his cup. It took him a moment to put his finger on the reason: the cleaning crew's equipment had gone silent. Guess they finished, he thought idly. He walked out of the vending area and saw that their polishing machine still stood in the hallway—

His steps quickened. In the hallway near Nicole's cell.

Where's Warren?

Dropping the coffee, he broke into a run.

Goose burst out of the fire door at the rear of the station and into the loading dock. The stink of trash assailed his nose. He ignored it.

The two men were bundling Nicole's unconscious body into the trunk of a nondescript grey car wedged into the end of the alley connecting to the loading area. Both men still wore the grey coveralls of the cleaning crew they had appeared to be. A third person sat at the wheel of the car, face concealed by the headrest, and Goose caught a glimpse of a fourth person in the back seat. An empty trashbin, its lid still open, rolled in a lazy arc away from the car, the rumble of its wheels on the worn permacrete nearly drowning out the low idle of the engine.

As Goose pelted down the alley toward them, the blond man cursed and let go of Nicole's legs to reach for a concealed holster. Goose heard the car's engine rev. The second man hastily lowered the limp form to the ground.

Goose was nearly on them when the blond man fired. Goose touched his badge and let the blaster bolt glance harmlessly off skin suddenly gone silver.

Goose's right fist plowed into the shooter's jaw, snapping the man's head back and sending him into the car's left rear fender with a dull crunch of bones. The brown-haired man straightened and took a step back, face blanching, as his partner dropped to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Goose lifted the brown-haired man effortlessly off his feet by the front of his shirt and let his biodefenses subside.

"Who are you?" he snarled into the man's face.

"You don't need to know, Ranger," cut in another voice. Goose's head snapped around.

The driver, imposing and black-haired, stood next to the fallen man, the muzzle of the microwave laser minipistol in his right hand aimed squarely at Nicole's head. He was tall, with a narrow, intelligent face, and wore a dark suit of expensive cut.

"You can let go of him now, and we'll be on our way," he continued, his cold grey eyes boring into Goose's.

Goose stared at him. "You won't shoot her," he said, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt.

The driver looked at him dispassionately, his hand never wavering, and waited.

Goose let the man he held drop to the ground. The driver gestured with his head, and then he and Goose stood unmoving as the brown-haired man gathered up his partner, set him down in the back seat of the car, shut the door and slammed the trunk before climbing into the driver's seat.

Goose glared. "I'm gonna remember your face, mister," he snapped.

The other man shrugged, indifferent. "You do that, Ranger Gooseman," he replied. He began to crouch as if to pick up Nicole.

"Don't try it," Goose said quietly.

The driver's eyebrows rose.

"You blew it. Leave now. The alarm's gone up; you don't have much time. And if you hurt her, I'll kill you. Get out of here."

The man stood slowly, never looking away from Goose. With dignity he inclined his head, and then he backed toward the car, gun still trained on Nicole. The brown-haired man popped open the passenger door. With a graceful leap, the dark man was into the car; he was still pulling the door shut as it pulled away with a tortured whine of its repulsorlifts.

Goose turned toward Nicole.

Still curled on the mottled pavement, she was watching him, face perplexed.

"Why?" she asked softly.

He blinked. "Huh?"

"Why would you kill him?"

Goose grinned savagely. "He pissed me off." He squatted next to her and offered his hand. Her expression grew wary. Goose sighed.

"Nicole... but that's not your name, is it?"

She rolled to her feet in one swift motion. He stood much more slowly, hand still outstretched, for she stood poised, ready to bolt. He took a deep, slow breath.

"I can tell," he said carefully, "that you're different. Like me. I'd like to help you, Nicole."

Her eyes shifted away from his. "Why?" she asked again, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I'm your prisoner. Aren't you supposed to take me back to jail?"

"Sometimes I don't do the things I'm supposed to," he said dryly. "Ask my boss sometime, if you ever get the chance." She tensed, and he raised his hands, palms out in appeal. "I didn't mean—I don't—Ahhh, shit. How did I get into this situation? Niko's the diplomatic one."

She laughed, a short sound, as if he had surprised the laugh out of her.

"Look... Nicole? My name is Shane. I want to help you, because I think... we're alike."

Her head jerked back and she stared at him, eyes wild—and turned to bolt.

"Wait! Please," he pleaded, and as if something were dragging at her she turned back toward him. "I just want to help you. I know you're afraid. I know those men came to Mars to find you. Can you tell me who they are and why they're chasing you?"

"Why can't you just leave me alone!" she shouted, her voice almost shrill. "I just want to live by myself, have a life of my—" She choked off her words, her eyes filling with tears, and visibly fought for control. "Why do you think we're alike?" she quavered. "I've never seen you before."

"You know I'm different," he answered. "When we fought on that rooftop, neither of us could touch the other."

She nodded and sniffled.

"I'm a Supertrooper, a genetically enhanced soldier. I was made to defend the Earth," he explained. "There are others like me. I think you're one of us, or someone like us."

The tears welled up again. "Defend?" she asked, and the bitterness in her voice startled him. "I don't think I was supposed to be for anything so nice. But I ran—" She looked away. "I don't know why I'm telling you this." She wrapped her arms around herself and tightened her lips.

He studied her. "This is way beyond me," he said. "Nicole, we need more information if we're ever gonna figure out what's going on or who those men were." She began shaking her head. "I need to talk to my teammates," he protested.

"Your Captain Foxx will arrest me," she answered flatly.

"If I ask him to wait for a few hours, I think he will," Goose said. "Will you trust me for a few hours?"

She looked sidelong at him, those holly-green eyes probing.

Goose felt an odd sensation behind his eyes, like the touch of a hand. He flinched and sighed. "Okay, okay," he said, and, conscious that he might well be doing a very stupid thing, he dropped his defenses.

Goose let his eyes close, for looking through them was suddenly disconcerting, as if he had acquired a second pair without the ability to choose which ones he saw through. He felt as though he had stepped into a lake, as though water, both warm and cool at once, ran over his skin and his mind in ripples and eddies, gently flowing over him, touching, filtering delicately into the secret places of his heart and leaving behind a feeling of having been changed in some precious and ineffable way.

And as the lake touched him, he felt the heart of the lake.

She should be free, he thought sadly. That's not the heart of someone made to be a soldier. She feels too much, cares too openly, to become a weapon like me.

He heard Nicole sigh and opened his eyes. She scrubbed angrily at her tearstained face, avoiding his gaze.

"You had people like you," she said stiffly.

"Yeah," he said. "It's hard to be alone." Like I was, some small corner of himself whispered. Even among all of the others, I was always alone.

She didn't answer. He didn't know if she'd even heard.

"Nicole—no, I can't keep calling you that. Will you tell me your name?" he asked softly, as he might have spoken to a wild and skittish colt.

She was silent for a long moment.

"Gaea. My name is Gaea."

Gaea - Chapter 06

From Betamountain.org

Gaea

Chapter 6

by Baybelletrist