Thursday October 13, 454 MC
1131 GMT
Damion
ABOUT SIX weeks later, the Ares pulled onto the flight deck after completing another patrol circuit, although this one had not been as uneventful as the previous ones. The Ares had run into a few rebel fighters, obviously doing a patrol of their own. It hadn’t taken long to take them out, with a few quick maneuvers on Damion’s part, and an activation of the Barrier on Requiem’s.
Despite not being like his former self, Requiem had still finished his adjustments of the Impulse Barrier. He told Damion that as long as he didn’t overdo it, it didn’t drain him. They had left the rebels floundering with disabled ships and reported them to the Zeus. After the rebels recovered, they would be discreetly followed by a small group of Betas to see where they went. Hopefully they would lead the Zeus’s pilots to their main battleship.
But that wasn’t Damion and Requiem’s job. Their job was over for the day, but it seemed like it was never done, as if there was an endless battle going on. Not between Requiem and Damion, but between Requiem and the hold the Creators had on him. Unfortunately, every time Requiem opened his mouth, it seemed to infuriate Damion just because Requiem wasn’t who he used to be—wasn’t who Damion wanted him to be.
“If you do not have any other immediate plans for me, I wish to complete some final adjustments to the Ares. Would that be acceptable?”
Damion sighed as he pulled off his helmet and ran his fingers through his dark, sweat-damp hair. “Yeah, if that’s what you want to do, go for it. But don’t leave the hangar until I can get back from the mess hall.” Even if Arkin was gone, Damion didn’t like Requiem walking about by himself. He was even more afraid now that it wouldn’t be another Fighter taking him, but the Creators or the Commander.
“As you order, Fighter Hawk. Would you prefer for me to go get your meal before starting work?” Requiem asked as he slid down the ladder to the flight deck floor.
“I can get my own tray, and I need to get your gruel.” Damion eyed Juni who was exiting the Hermes a little farther down the walkway. “Just stay by the Zodiac until I get back.”
Damion couldn’t relax around his Core, not like before. He couldn’t be sure that Requiem had broken the compulsion to report everything to the Creators. And every time he had the thought to reduce some of Requiem’s supplements, he worried guards would show up during the day and take Requiem away permanently.
“Juni, can you send 108 over to help 47?” Damion wanted to talk to his friend alone and without feeling 108’s judging gaze on the back of his skull.
Juni blinked at him before looking over at Requiem. He frowned, nodding in understanding, before his gaze turned to 108 and his mouth curved into a warm smile. “Do you mind?” he asked his Core. 108 gave him his own brief hint of a smile before shaking his head and walking to Requiem. Juni joined Damion in his trek down the hall to retrieve food.
Damion stopped to look back at the Cores. Requiem was already on the ground, opening a hatch in the belly of the Zodiac, when 108 joined him, sliding in gracefully to the side. Requiem gave 108 a nod of greeting, silently accepting his help as he pointed out a problem with the wires. 108 seemed to immediately understand and scooted out from under the ship to retrieve a few tools. Damion turned his head away from the scene and continued walking.
“What’s up?” Juni asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the Cores.
“I think I might do something very stupid if I have to face this version the Creators sent to me for much longer.” Damion pushed his fingers through his hair. “I can’t figure out what to do with him, and he’s back in his pod every night. I think I’m going crazy.”
“Just don’t do anything that might get yourself or 47 killed. Or result in him being taken away from you.”
Juni’s gaze flicked worriedly over him. Damion could only imagine what he looked like. Death: dark circles under his eyes, hair that needed cutting, and definitely more bone than body because he wasn’t eating enough. The situation with Requiem was tearing him apart.
“I’m sorry that the info that 108 dug up didn’t help.” 108 had confirmed Juni’s thought that Requiem had pulled back on taking his supplements shortly before they returned from leave, while 108 continued to take a minimum dose of his. Requiem had gone approximately twenty-four hours taking bare minimum levels of his supplements. Damion didn’t know how 108 had escaped the Corp’s notice while Requiem had not. But then, Requiem was much stronger in the ways of the system than 108, although he had started to teach 108 before the Creators changed him. “What did you have in mind?”
“I can’t fucking gauge what I can do because every time I think he’s starting to remember, I’m dead wrong. The moment I even think about cutting back his gruel and he even cracks the slightest smile, I’m jumping at shadows and he’s taken the full dose before I realize it.” For a moment Damion thought about going below decks and picking up a girl just to have some reaction.
It might not have been so hard if they had wiped Requiem clean of every valuable memory. Knowing that Requiem could remember some of what he and Damion had gone through, their first flight, the trip to Lunar, and that Requiem admitted he had flashes of memory of the kissing but couldn’t feel a single emotion in reference to it was what caused Damion’s heart to ache and his fury toward the Creators to burn brightly.
“That still doesn’t answer the question of what crazy idea you might be getting into your head.” Juni stated what they already knew, which was that they were all caught between a rock and a hard place. “You ever think maybe it’s a possibility that Requiem is protecting you? That perhaps he is aware of what’s going on and has decided not to fight just so that you won’t get hurt?” He sighed. “I know that’s a crazy idea, but I’m fishing for anything at this point.”
“He could fucking tell me that he remembers something at least,” Damion ground out. “I actually thought about going home. Asking for that discharge and going home to go work security at the mines.”
“You would leave 47?” Juni asked in a startled tone. “I didn’t think you would want to give him up, but if you’ve thought about it, why haven’t you?”
Damion dragged his nails over his scalp in frustration. “I can’t give him to another Arkin, and right now only we can do the Barrier. No, I can’t leave him. He needs me as much as I need him. Hell, only he can perform that maneuver, and he only do it with me. So what would they do if he refused to work with someone else and started killing again?”
“Wipe him, more than likely,” Juni said reluctantly, looking at Damion out of the corner of his eye. “Take apart the Ares and figure out how he did it. There are many things they can do. Or… or you could take him with you,” he suggested in a barely audible tone. “But the only problem with that is that they’d find him, unless you somehow removed that tracking device.”
“It’s hopeless.” Damion let his head fall back against the wall of the elevator. “Fucking hopeless, and you know it too. Let’s just get our food.”
Juni kept his mouth shut after that. Damion knew he was simmering with anger and frustration to the point that it was almost visible.
They made it down to the mess hall, and it seemed Damion’s temper would hold out for the day. Until one of Arkin’s ex-lackeys decided today was a good day to poke fun at Damion’s recent decline in flight scores. At that point Damion tossed the food on his tray over his shoulder and used the metal as a deadly weapon.
“Oh shit! D, stop!”
Juni dropped his own tray and scrambled over the table to try to grab Damion before he could bring the tray down on the other Fighter’s head. But he just wasn’t quick enough. He winced at the loud clang of metal on skull. He grabbed Damion’s arms before he could do it again, but by that time the damage had been done and Arkin’s lackey had sprung back up, wobbling, with an upper cut that caught Damion’s jaw and threw him back into Juni. From there it turned into a full-blown brawl.
Fifteen minutes later found Damion rubbing his bruised jaw as they stood against the starboard wall in the mess. The security force had guns pointed at all their bellies. Damion could see the Commander approaching, and he was pissed. Damion knew he was already on the officer’s shit list. He could feel the suspension coming on just by looking at that glare.
“Sorry,” he mumbled under his breath to Juni.
“Better be,” Juni growled out of the corner of his mouth. “I hope you feel better now.” And then he sighed, wincing from bruised ribs. “If I don’t end up in the brig with you, I’ll make sure to watch over 47 until they release you.”
“Hawk. I should have fucking known.” The Commander’s voice bellowed throughout the mess hall, causing several others to wince. “I heard you started this little shindig. Congratulations, you won a night in the brig. Maybe more, if I’m lucky.” He nodded to a few of the Security officers, and they immediately grabbed Damion by his arms and pulled him out of the mess hall.
One of them was Collins, who took in Damion’s appearance and gave him a sad shake of his head before looking forward again as he pulled him to the elevator.
“Still pissed that you couldn’t kill me by accident, Commander?” Damion gave Collins a sloppy grin. “And Arkin died jacking off in his room.”
Collins rolled his eyes and then sighed as the Commander’s grin widened and he gave Collins a nod. Collins gave Damion a nearly imperceptible shrug and an obviously apologetic look before his fist came out of nowhere and connected with Damion’s face.
“Keep it up, Hawk. I can do this all day,” Commander Sandrite said smugly.
Damion staggered a few centimeters and his ears rang for a second. “Not what your wife said the other night.”
“That’s real funny, Hawk, I can just add it to your list of infractions here,” the Commander drawled as Collins punched Damion in the ribs following the nod the Commander gave him. “But I suppose you would try and find sex anywhere now that your Core has stopped whoring out for you.”
Damion coughed, and his knees did almost buckle that time, but he leaned against the elevator wall to help keep him up. “You trying to live through my sex life? That’s a bit sad, Commander.”
The guard on the other side of Damion tightened his grip on his arm to keep him standing.
“Oh no,” the Commander said. “My sex life is just fine. I don’t need to live through your nonexistent one. At least my partners can react. I think you’d have better luck fucking a hole in the wall than your Core. The wall might have more emotion. Or do you have the Core fuck you?”
As the elevator doors opened, Collins tightened his grip on Damion’s arm in warning.
“You have every right to be scared of him,” Damion muttered under his breath.
“What? Be scared of a doll?” The Commander snorted as he led them toward the containment cells. “Why would I be afraid of him? Especially after they reprogrammed him, making him into a good little toy.” Stopping in front of a door, he called for it to open with a higher code clearance, and after three beeps, the door unlocked. Collins and the other guard dragged Damion inside and dumped him onto a hard cot before exiting, slipping past the Commander.
“You have to wonder, though, what might happen to your little Core while you’re in here,” the Commander said in a musing tone, then gave a satisfied grin. “Not that you’d be able to do anything normally, but now you won’t even be there to protest when the Creators retrieve him this evening and you won’t see him go.” He closed the door with a light laugh, leaving Damion in darkness except for a small barred window in the door. “Have a good night’s sleep,” he said through that opening.
Damion began kicking uselessly at the door. He knew it wouldn’t do any fucking good, but all the anger bled out of his actions as he screamed into the empty cell. He wasn’t scared, just pissed. As he crumpled onto the cot, he thought about praying for the first time in years.