Only Human (Themis Files #3)(37)
I improvised a bit. I thought it would sound more convincing if I put something more personal in there. I mean, no offense, but what reason do I have to “help defend the Russian Federation?”
[Hey, I’m not complaining. You were great. Were you scared? I was. I almost wet myself, and I wasn’t even there. Woo! I need a drink!]
What would you have done if they’d attacked? We’d have had no choice but to surrender.
[You could have fought back! You could have gotten away, made Themis disappear or something. Couldn’t you? I hope so because that soldier had orders to shoot you if you lost.]
Shoot me how? He’s just standing there. One punch from that robot and he would have bounced around here like a rubber ball.
[I’m sure he’s glad to hear that now.]
There’s no fighting back, Katherine. We can’t even move our arms without another pilot! No escaping either, not if it’s anything like the one Kara and I fought. Themis won’t beam while it’s holding us. Something about the energy field.
[Oh, don’t be so negative, Vincent! You won!]
We bluffed, and they fell for it, but that’s as far as it goes. I can’t pilot Themis by myself.
[Then we better find you a copilot.]
How are you gonna do that?
[I have an idea! Another one, I know! It’s crazy. I never think of anything, then boom! Two in a row.]
FILE NO. EE149—PERSONAL FILE FROM ESAT EKT
Interview between Vincent Couture and General Eugene Govender
Location: Assigned residence, Etyakt region
—Goddammit, Couture! I’m not dead yet.
—I don’t know what to say. Did they tell you what it was?
—Well, your Opt friend told me, but I don’t understand anything he says. Something about my cells being out of control.
—Cancer?
—That’s what it sounded like to me.
—I’ll ask him.
—Why? I’m still dying. What difference does it make if I know what’s killing me?
—Maybe they can cure it.
—Do you think they’ll be able to cure it more if I know what it is? Besides, he’s already told me they can cure it. They just won’t.
—What?
—You heard me. He said they don’t want to in—
—Interfere.
—Exactly. I swear I’ll die if I hear that goddamn word one more time.
—That’s not funny, sir. I’ll talk to him. Maybe I can—
—What? Change his mind? I don’t think he makes those kinds of decisions. I know the people who do don’t give a damn about what you have to say. And it was funny! Maybe not fall-off-your-chair funny, but enough for a polite laugh.
—I’m serious, General. There has to be a way to convince them. There has to be. Rose knows some of their scientists, she—
—She can’t do anything. You know that. When they say they don’t want to interfere, they really mean that horseshit.
—But the Council. If they rule that we’re part Ekt. They’d have to take care of you then.
—That argument is what got us stuck on this rock in the first place. I don’t wanna be cured if it means spending the rest of my even longer life here. You’d be stuck too.
—We’ll cross that bridge—
—Screw that bridge, Couture. We’re not crossing it, ever.
—We can try!
—Goddammit! Listen to what I’m saying! I don’t wanna be saved! I don’t want you to do anything because I don’t want their stupid cure.
—I’m not gonna let you die.
—I don’t need your permission, son. I’m a general. I’m tired of this place. I’m tired, period. I’m seventy-one years old. I’m allowed.
— …
—What? You think I’m sorry to go? You think I have a bucket list I want to get through after all this?
—You don’t want to go home?
—I’d like … I’d like to live in an old house, alone. By a lake, or a river. Something small. I could sit on the porch and drink coffee, listening to the birds. And no one would come, and I’d never hear another word about war, or aliens, or any of this for the rest of my life. Do you think I can get that?
—Probably not, sir.
—Then no. I’m fine the way things are.
—I’m sorry, sir.
—Sorry for what? Are you apologizing to me because you can’t cure cancer? Or because you can’t make the world the way I want it to be? Either way, never be sorry about things you have no control over. You’ll just give yourself ulcers. Never half-ass anything. Drink plenty of wine. I think that’s about as much wisdom I have to offer. How’s your girl?
—She’s doing all right. Certainly better than the three of us. She has a day job. She’s fifteen, and she has a day job. Home … Things are a little rough at home. For one thing, I really suck as a schoolteacher. Rose helps me write lessons and stuff. I try my best. It was a lot easier when she was ten. We try to make it about things that she likes as much as we can—apples and pies aren’t cool anymore—but it’s fairly obvious that we have absolutely no clue what she likes nowadays.
—Apples and pies?