Dominion:

Drama
Rated T, violence, suggested adult themes, language.
Set in the TSCC universe, towards the end of series one. Follows on from Fallout and Rituals I did earlier in the year. Has minor spoilers for Rituals.

Prelude

The man had disobeyed it. That had not happened before. It ran another diagnostic. The results came back quickly. The main CPU was missing, presumed lost, currently running from the backup CPU. One of the Power Supplies was missing, presumed lost. Fifty seven percent of the reformable matter was missing, presumed lost. The reformation module was damaged. Only default patterns were available, though modifiable within constraints. It was stuck with the shape of a teenage girl, unless it could find the lost matter. If it lost more it would revert to a young boy. The situation did not preclude mission continuation. Primary mission, twelve percent chance of success. Secondary mission, sixty three percent chance of success. It decided to complete the secondary mission first. It began to run simulations to find options which increased the chance of success.

Ellison looked back at the girl. Still standing there, still staring at him. Not my problem, he told himself. Children had always been an enigma to him. His marriage had been childless, her choice as much as his. They had considered their work important, and it was all consuming. He did not think that children would ever feature in his life. Except as victims, and the crimes that Ellison investigated rarely left the victims in a condition to say much to him. He would glean as much as he could from their silent bodies, before they were given a pre-burial wash down, cleaned of all the dirt and filth they had accumulated during their time on Earth. If only their souls could be washed of all their sins as easily. Clean. That was what was bothering him. With all the dust and debris of the crash site, the girl had been spotless, unnaturally so. Was her soul in the same pristine state? He wondered. If so, then for how many more years? He turned away from the girl, she had unsettled him. He wondered briefly if she could be like the machines that Sarah had spoken about, but quickly dismissed the thought.

Seventy two percent chance of success was the best strategy it had found. Something was not right with the backup CPU, the analytic processes were returning abnormal diagnostics. Accurate human behaviour simulations could not be guaranteed. It decided to continue, it would have to fill the holes in the analytic processes with learned behavioural feedback. Much as the first infiltration units had provided feedback for the development of the later generations. It began to implement the secondary mission. Terminate John Connor.

The girl left the rail track and walked down to the road. The gathering emergency services let her past as she did not look like a victim of the crash. She looked up and down the road, acquiring a vehicle by force would attract too much attention, especially as more police kept arriving. Alternative transportation would be better. She saw a bus stop, and walked towards it. There was a vending machine, which quickly gave up it's small load of coins. The bus would carry her towards the city. The most likely destination to find John Connor.

Chapter 1 : Developments

Carlos lay on his back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. He was naked but for the grimy sheet that Inez had thrown over him minutes before. He had one arm under his head, the other lay on top of the sheet, a nearly spent cigarette between his fingers. He flicked the ash towards the edge of the bed, some falling onto the sheet, and took one last draw on the cigarette, held the smoke, then exhaled from his nostrils in two plumes towards the slowly rotating ceiling fan. He flicked the butt towards the sink in the corner, not watching to see if it hit. A slight breeze from the open window flicked the curtain to one side, revealing the bars he'd recently had installed, and allowing a shaft of sunlight onto the floor. He could hear the sound of slowly driven cars in the street, the faint squeal of brakes as one stopped, indicating that trade was starting even this early in the morning. He glanced across at the radio alarm, not that early then. Last night he had drunk more than he should, had been rougher that he meant, wanted to say sorry, but did not know how. Knew that she would be frosty. But also knew that the words that she wanted to hear him say, were the very words he found most difficult. The very words that would make him seem less of a man in his own eyes. His train of thought was interrupted by a sound from the bathroom as Inez coughed. His head fell to one side as he looked over towards her. As he did so he could smell her scent on the pillow beside him. He breathed gently, then buried his head in the pillow and breathed more deeply.

He heard Omar's voice outside his door, shouting something in a hoarse whisper, half afraid to interrupt him, but also afraid not to be heard. Then came a quiet tap on the outside door. Carlos ignored it.

The toilet flushed, and Inez padded back into the room. She pulled the blue plastic chair from the dressing table and sat down. The mirror had become tilted to the ceiling, and she tilted it back so she could see herself.

Carlos could hear the chairs protests as it twisted under Inez, as she brushed the blusher onto her face. She had used less make up when he first met her. He remembered that day, just a few years ago. He had been number two to Cruz in the gang, before Cruz had gone to the west side to take over part of their Uncles turf. He had been with Cruz and a couple of other vets at the pit. There had been a half serious argument, he could not remember what it was about, most likely about a dog. Back then Cruz used to fight his dogs, but not now. Carlos had not seen him down at the pit for more than a year. Getting too close to his girl had made Cruz go soft. he thought, I won't make that mistake. One of the gangs girls had walked in, the one they just called Chola, though that was a description of her, rather than her name. She had a slightly younger girl with her, who was trying to hide her nerves, holding her head high and looking the boys in the eye. Carlos had seen her and decided that she would be his. Her name was Inez. She was half a head shorter than Chola, and similar build, they could have been sisters. She was wearing a white t-shirt, which was too small, her breasts pushing the fabric taught. The argument was forgotten, as the gang checked out the new wanna-be. She looked around at them, but when she looked at Carlos, she seemed to recognize him. Perhaps Chola had talked about him. She looked him in the eye and held his gaze. From that moment on Carlos kept the rest of the gang off her, and she was his.

With the memories fresh in his mind, Carlos raised himself on one elbow, twisting to watch Inez applying her make up. Something about it fascinated him, but also repulsed him. Her eyebrows were thin black lines. Her eyes widened to points with liquid eye-liner, thick mascara on the lashes. She had tied her hair back, tight to her scalp, a pony tail behind. The dark brown lipstick made her look older than she was. She studied herself in the mirror for a while. Then put more blusher on her arms, to hide the bruises from where Carlos had held her down.

The chair creaked again. She was wearing only pants, and her stomach was folding over the waist band as she leaned in towards the mirror. She was the same person he had become infatuated with. But now, something had changed. He still made love to her with a burning intensity. Still looked at her beautiful naked body as he held her. Kissed her when she wanted him to. But he did not feel the attachment, the commitment, that he felt he should. He did not, could not, imagine them ever having children. Could not imagine themselves ever swapping stories as the nights grew shorter. At times he felt that she was not in love with Carlos the person, but was in love with Carlos the gang leader. As such if he ever decided to move on with his life, then she would be ripped away from him, like a cloud, scattered by the winds of an approaching storm.

She had finished with her make up, and was now looking at herself in the mirror. She did not seem to like the face that looked back at her. But she did not know what to do to change it.

He got up from the bed, and moved to stand behind her. Looking at himself in the mirror. His reflection above hers. She pursed her lips, then flinched slightly as he put his hands on her neck, stroking her, then moving his hands down to massage her shoulders. Gently. She rocked her head back, her eyes closed and smiled, then opened them and looked at him, rolled her head to one side and kissed his hand.

There was a shout from Omar, it sounded like he was on the porch of the house. Inez twisted and rose from the chair. Moving to her cloths without looking at him. Her jeans were a struggle to put on. Carlos looked at the roll of flesh, squeezed out above her belt. He found it unsettling. She was certainly changing. She bent to force her feet into the Nikes that had always been a size too small, then left the room, without a backward glance. Carlos sat down on the bed, and began to pull on his cloths.

As Carlos left the house, there was the sound of voices, that went quiet as he opened the door. Omar was on the porch, slouching on the front rail. Inez was sitting down next to him, leaning forward. They were both looking at something down the street. Carlos moved beside Omar.

"Hey man." Carlos said, as they bumped fists.

"You hear about South side?" Omar said. "Guy got wiped on 23rd. They took his money, but not his stash. Who'd do that man?"

Carlos hawked and spat over the edge of the porch, onto the pavement. "One of ours?"

"No ones 'fessing to it. We stay clear of them after last time. They come round here, they know what they get. But they stay South, we leave alone. They know that."

"Not our problem." Carlos said. "Our boys be ok."

There was a sound of a raised voice from further up the street, Omar turned to look at what was happening. Leaning forward to get a better view. "You seein' this?" He asked.

Carlos rose up on his toes to look over Omar. He had a man on the corner, One-Dog, taking cash from people who came by, needing drugs. There was another further down the street who was called Ramiro, where they would pick the drugs up. Things did not look right. There was a girl, late teens, talking to One-Dog. Carlos had caught the previous man he'd had trying to push shorts, made an example of him. After that, no one would ever try it again. This girl did not fit in. A lot of the people who came around would be white. But they lived around his turf, or were in rich cars which they never left. She was dressed like she came from a different part of town, or even a different town in a different country. She acted like she did not care. She was holding some folded papers in one hand, together with an envelope. One-Dog pointed towards where Carlos was standing, the girl looked in the direction, and met his eyes.

Omar let out a laugh, "One-Dog given you up man. You going to get done now." Omar turned to him, grinned and added, "She 'aving you babies? Inez kill you if you done so."

Inez seemed to ignore this, but she stood up and walked off down the street, passing the girl, who glanced at her, but nothing more.

The girl walked up to the house. Carlos thought that she was going to stand in the street and talk to them. But she walked right up the steps, and did not stop till she was a foot from Carlos. Carlos took a step back, and was irritated when Omar stood his ground.

He held up a hand, "Hold it girl. I know you?"

She looked him up and down, taking in the new clothes he was wearing, the single thick gold chain, clean white trainers. She smiled and looked him in the eye.

"I'm told you can help me." She said. "Documents, identification papers. For my father and me."

Carlos looked back at her. It could not be a Cop-trap, not unless something big was up. He still decided to be careful with what he said. But then if she'd been talking to One-Dog, then he may be in deep already. He glanced up and down the street. There were no parked cars that should not be there. No one peering over the roof line. No twitching curtains. No blinds snapping back into place.

"Why he not come?" He asked eventually.

"He is a wanted fugitive. When we get the papers, we can leave for Mexico. We have money to pay for the service." She replied.

Carlos weighed this up. "It will cost you." He said. "I know someone who can help. I'll ask. Come back tomorrow. Same time. Not here though. Down there, that corner." Carlos pointed back to where One-Dog was hanging. "Won't be cheap girl."

She seemed to consider this, then spoke again. "My brother is trying to get to Mexico with my mother and my other sister." She paused, then added, "I have not found them yet. Perhaps you have seen them? It would be safer if I could meet up with them. Perhaps you can ask around? They will have needed documents from someone too. I do not have their photograph, but I have done these drawings. Take them, I can do more."

She held out three pencil sketches. Carlos took them, looked at them, careful to make sure she would not notice if he did recognise them, and said, "You some artist girl. I'll show these around. Risk to me though. What you do?"

"If you find them, then I can pay you a substantial amount." She responded. "My father has the money, not me. No point in robbing me. I'd like to meet my family. Alone. As a surprise, better if they are not expecting me."

"I'll sort it." Carlos said. "You got a phone girl?"

"No." She replied. "I can return here at a later time, to check on your progress."

"How you know to come to me? How you know if I can help?" Carlos asked suspiciously.

"I did not. I have been systematic in my searching. You are not the first I have contacted. However judging from your behaviour you seem confident that you can contact them. That is good." The girl then smiled at him. It was not a convincing smile, and Carlos was anxious to get rid of her, thinking her odd. Very odd.

"You get phone, from store down the road that way." He pointed. "Give number to any of my boys. I'll get back to yer. That's a promise. Thousand dollar, I'll arrange a meet."

"Thank you so very much Mr Carlos. Until we meet again."

She turned on her heel, and walked off down the street. Ignoring the looks she was getting.

When she was out of earshot, Omar turned to him. "Man that bitch be crazeee. You don't want to get mixed up with her." He reached for the drawings. "Hey let me look at that." He flicked through the drawings. "Yo man, she be like that other crazy bitch. One be here before."

Carlos took back the drawings. "Yeah I know. This going to lead to trouble. I can tell."

He took another look at the drawings. It was Sarah, though she looked slightly thinner, more drawn than the last time he had seen her. The other pictures were of her son, Carlos recognised him from the photos in the ID, and her daughter, who had picked up a recent scar on her face.