4: Lesson 1 Just the Basics
After the incident with the data pad, I needed some air. I was reasonably certain none of the boys would risk meddling with it again. I briefly told them to make themselves at home and stepped outside to sit on the back porch. I say porch, what it am referring to is a slightly raised portion of concrete large enough to accommodate a battered folding chair and an orange milk crate pretending to be a table.
Style never had much meaning for me. If my upbringing had been different, I am sure it would have been otherwise. But as it was, I figured it did not matter if I had to mend the roof every few weeks to keep it from leaking, so long as the premises were tactically sound…A secure local with more than one means of entry or egress and several well disguised compartments where I could store my equipment and supplies. In short, It was a safe-house not a home. Even so, some part of me regretted the fact that there really wasn't much to look at in the alley behind my apartment. A small shed with a rusted roof of corrugated metal--containing my washer and drier, a featureless gray brick wall, and a rutted dirt path.
Between the shed and the path were several old tires that I'd piled one on top the other and filled with soil. 'Why would I do that?' You wonder. It was ludicrous really, but after the war I wanted desperately to watch some thing grow. With the garbage I found in the alley I made myself a planter. It was strange how highly I prized those few scraggly buttercups and the battered half-brown bush nearly brought me to tears when it finally yielded a single blood-red rose.
Was that why I'd sought out the pilots? Gotten involved in their lives again? Was I lying to myself when I said they needed me? Were they only here because of my twisted desire to watch them grow? I sat on the folding chair and leaned my elbows on my knees as I turned these things over in my mind.
No damage had been done this time. Heero was the most resilient when it came to withstanding the mental intrusions of the link. But if 0-3 had accidentally stumbled into one of the other's pilots mind…or his own, the results could have been much more costly. It was true that it would take someone with very specialized knowledge to hack the safeguards I had in place. But the boys had proven it could be done. And if they could do it…someone else may.
The fact remained that if something were to happen to me, the boys could be at the mercy of whoever possessed the pad. Could I, in good faith, place them in such a risk? Perhaps it was best if I had the pad destroyed as the gundams had been. There would be a price of course, I shuddered to think, but others had sacrificed as much—or more—to secure this time of peace for all earth-sphere. These boys deserved security as much as peace. I truly believed it was still necessary to monitor our living weapons…but was it? Was I underestimating them? Was it worth the risks?
"Lieutenant?" A soft voice called me back to from my thoughts. I wasn't exactly sure how long I had been sitting there or exactly when my fists that found their way into my pale blond hair…it was longer now, there was more of it to hold on top than when I had been among the Makar. I hated wearing it short but it made me look older. I probably seem ancient to the boys inside but, truth is I am not yet 26 and I must have painted a fine picture of dejection when young Quatre came to get me.
"I'll get rid of the pad…wipe it, have it dismantled and destroyed. It will no longer a threat to you," I told the boy quietly.
0-4 shook his head. "Don't," He said.
That simple word jolted my thoughts once more into turmoil "What?" I asked in unbelief.
"We don't want it destroyed, not just now anyway. We have talked it over decided we've got a lot of growing to do before we can...do without supervision," Quatre explained with a shrug. "What we want is for you to teach us how it works and why. Heero said it best I think when he compared it to keeping a weapon in the house. It is dangerous yes…we understand that…but, if you ensure everyone in the house is trained to handle it appropriately, and dedicated to keeping it secure, there is less risk."
"Are you sure?" I asked uncertainly.
The blond favored me with a little smile. "If you are like us, having a weapon nearby is actually a comfort…Though I'll not be keeping mine under my pillow at night like Heero does. I won't be responsible for things I might do when I'm half-conscious." He chuckled.
I couldn't help but smile at the image of Heero sleepily caressing the hilt of his revolver before snuggling back into the sheets. I'd seen stranger things during my time in the military. Then my thoughts took on a more professional edge, as their keeper. I expect all the pilots had more than their share of nightmares. Now that we were together I could easily use the link to lower their ambient stress level or set up a passive REM program let them sleep undisturbed. I idly squashed a mosquito that had alighted on my arm and decided it was time to go inside.
The television was off and the boys had the pad set up on the coffee table. Duo was sitting cross-legged on the rug next to Heero's knee. Trowa was sideways in my desk chair with one lanky leg dangling over the padded arm. WuFei was perched on the stepstool he had found folded behind the bathroom door and Heero and Quatre had apparently decided that I would sit between them on the couch. All looked to me with expectant faces. "You want to do this now?" I asked surprised.
"Affirmative," Heero nodded and motioned for me to take the place beside him, directly in front of the monitor. Quatre folded himself into the space to my left, tucking a knee against his chest and leaning his chin and forearms on it. He seemed very…young.
I took a deep breath and keyed in my password. It took no time at all for the screen to flash to life. Five icons appeared on the edge of the menu bar one keyed to each of the young men sitting beside me. I thought of using Heero as an example simply because I was much more familiar with his control sequences, I'd seen many of them forged. But then again, his program was far more complex than the others and I didn't want to start out by mudding the waters with information that was only relevant in his particular case. That should be done on a one-on-one basis.
"Can we do me first?" Quatre asked liquid-sapphire eyes shining bright. "In the journal pages you shared with us, you wondered if I'd known about the link. I remember I used to get headaches when I was little and spent several weeks in hospital where I first met Instructor H. Father said the test results were inconclusive. I always thought the pain was related to the space-heart but you speculated that my…sensitivity…was nothing more than…a side effect. You said a quick glance at the data told you I was natural born. I-I want to know how."
"If that is what you want," I agreed, I knew the layout like the back of my hand but the boys didn't. If they were serious about learning about this the least I could do was to make it a bit more difficult for mistakes, like the one Trowa had made earlier, to happen. I right clicked on 0-4's icon and labeled it 'Quatre' then opened the screen.
"Basics first—" I began, "Blood pressure and heart rate are a bit elevated…I expect you are a bit nervous and I can't say as I blame you. White blood cell count is normal. You are a bit anemic but it is nothing a few good meals won't cure. Height, weight, blood type all the standard information is here." I pointed to each reading. "Current body temperature is 97.5°" I said selecting a drop down menu next to the temp reading; the graph that appeared confirmed that over the past month the Arabian lad had a consistently lower than average body temperature, therefore making it statistically normal.
In the upper right corner of the screen was the unmistakable DNA helix incontrovertibly identifying him as 0-4: Winner, Q. I highlighted the sequences and briefly explained what the Makar had done to enhance the code: red, yellow, blue, green, yellow, red.
"You are sure what they did has no connection to the space heart?" The blond asked quietly…there was a sadness in his voice that made be think that—being told the thing he saw as integral to his sense of 'self' meant nothing, would not be good for his esteem. But when 0-2 had been trying to console 0-5 about his false memories he had said; Uncovering lies was a good thing, because they are like snakes waiting for a chance to bite you in the butt." 0-1 translated that as, "it is faulty tactics to ignoring a sniper who's got your flank between his crosshairs," but the sentiment had been the same; not dealing with lies when they crop up was dangerous.
"I'm sorry but there has never been any hard evidence…" I began but 0-3 raised a hand cutting me off.
"You are wrong," He said quietly. "Earth Sphere Alliance sanitized records; some remain. Instructor H was assigned to 'Neotype research.' Quatre's received training we didn't, but I've seen things during the war, we all have. It might be the result of the Makar…it might be inborn…It IS real." The quiet boy shook his finally and the blond gave him a slight smile.
"Inborn" the blonde's eyes lit up again. "Show me how you know I was natural born,"He changed the subject smoothly as one would expect a diplomat. And I had to give him full marks for that.
"Very well" I smiled selecting the terminating brackets of the DNA strand. In the diagram they were color coded but the boys would not understand what the colors meant as I did. "These are Microcellular Endpoint Occlusions" it is a way the body stores vast amounts of data in something so very small. In nature the signature imbedded in the MEO is so vast the pattern appears random. In the lab the differential is kept much smaller so there is less chance for mutation." I zoomed out and drew attention to the variegated colored caps then pulled up another file for comparison. Now that they knew what to look for the regular pattern of color shifts on the sample were apparent.
"Whose DNA is that?" Trowa asked indicating the other sample. I winced realizing that while I was pointing out the differences, he was noticing the similarities—namely the red, yellow, blue, green, yellow, red, sequence I previously identified as being symptomatic of Makar manipulation.
"Mine,"I answered quietly, and thankfully he didn't say anything else. If they had wanted me to zero in on the endpoints I knew the extreme magnification, and various filter-programs found only is the most classified Makar technology…such as my pad, would reveal a silver band that I would have had difficulty explaining. I remember my worried thoughts so clearly painted as they were in Maxwell's metaphor; 'Some times we are forced live with our snakes, we try to convince ourselves they are pets rather than predators. But Lies are lies, and once bitten relationships are poisoned," Caution whispered, "Give it time Naught boy…give it time. You've only just met these boys. They won't understand."
I sighed, to conceal the shudder and continued with the demonstration. "Phase two: going a bit deeper now. Tell me if any of you get uncomfortable, some people are more sensitive and can feel the deeper connections. If your head starts to ache or just want me to stop say so. We can't go over everything tonight; I won't let Quatre here bear the brunt of the lesson. I can spread it out, finding examples in each of your files before going into the specifics of each case,"I told them before going on to the next screen. "This page records physical, mental and psychological stress." The three dominant graphs ticked off each minute on the horizontal, the vertical had numerical increments and color coding indicating what was considered an acceptable range for each.
Because of his empathic nature 0-4 was permitted a wide range of variation with regards to emotion. Presently his line was jagged and erratic, doubtlessly influenced by the those around him as well as his own. According to the statistical data the readings still fell within acceptable limits.
I knew if I had started with Heero they would see considerably different results. Instead of benign tabs marked edit, evaluate, and augment they would see thick horizontal lines not merely recording, but restricting the bandwidth of what was allowable. Other password protected menus made it possible to regulate the flow of specific emotions or set reactions to trigger on a situation by situation basis. But that level of manipulation required additional hardware…I nervously wondered if they would want demonstrations of that as well. If so…I would have to go back...take them with me…. The idea both thrilled and unnerved me. I pushed the unwanted emotion away and concentrated on the situation at hand.
The bar graph regarding brain activity was placed on a zero axis. I explained that the base line was unconsciousness. Positive numbers meant Quatre was awake, negative numbers track activity during REM. As the bars stretched higher they fell into three bands of color indicating function level: yellow was low, tan was normal, and high was red.
"You can all thank the Makar for the distinction," I told them. "In certain circumstances, like when you are in combat or performing in areas where you are…gifted…your brain literally switches into high gear. You all know Quatre's areas of experience are in formulating strategies or coordinating the efforts of others. The average person in the street can't process and analyze data with anything near the same speed he does without blowing a fuse—but all of you have proven time again you can do so with efficiency and effectiveness," I pointed out.
0-4's physical readings were less than spectacular, and not simply because he was mostly just sitting there staring at the screen. The real time readings were measured on a digital gauge divided into sections like a pie chart. It wasn't particularly impressive. Just like the record of his body temperature on the previous page I flicked to a graph showing two lines indicating the high and low readings of each day for the past month. The gentle slopes it showed were a clear indicator that since the war ended the boy had fallen into somewhat sedentary habits. I saw the blond frown.
"This indicator is not as sensitive as the others," I explained "It only gives an average of what your body is capable of and how much of those resources you are using it at present." Then I brought up the screen monitoring the major muscle groups, Quatre tried stretching and waving his arms around and everyone watched the jagged line recording the actual the electro magnetic pulses the muscles received.
The sun was down now and so far I had only showed the boys the passive data functions of the pad. I hoped to hold off showing them how easily those readings could be regulated triggered remotely, or tricked into experiencing something that wasn't real at least until tomorrow. "It is getting late," I pointed out, "Are you planning to stay here or do I need to drop you somewhere?"
"Hello, orphan here," Duo grinned. "Fei slipped his Preventer's leash and une thinks he's on vacation an Quat is the only one of us with real responsibilities being all corporate executive-ish and all but I expect his pet Mags are looking after things. They are good like that." He smirked. "Are the fez-boys aware we decided to drop off the grid for a while or do you need to give um a call?" Duo asked the blond.
"Rashid won't expect me to contact them for few days yet…But, um…where will you put us." He looked around my 'bachelor pad' uncertainly.. "I mean it is rather bad manors to just invite ourselves over. It wouldn't be proper. We don't want to put you out," Quatre said. Despite the words, his eyes and tone told me he very much wanted to stay. Perhaps he suspected that, if they left…I would take the opportunity to disappear again—Admittedly, I had considered that option.
I expect they stayed in worse during the war but once again I thought about how inadequately prepared I was to have 'guests.' At least Winner was polite. Mentally I ran through the inventory of my meager possessions. Perhaps if I added my towels and tablecloth in among my extra sheets, there might be enough 'blankets and pillows' to accommodate them.
Duo interrupted my thoughts. "No problem." The boy grinned. "Quatre can take the couch and the rest of us can take the floor. I mean, I can sleep in a cardboard box—I have in fact, only problem is rain makes 'um soggy." He waved his hand at the others expressively. "I know you formal military types have made an art of sleeping in 'less than optimal conditions.' He said sending a wry grin at Heero. "No problem."
"Hn," said Heero and WuFei snorted.
I felt sure Chang would find reason to complain. Instead, he announced, "I'll take first watch then, Shall I."
Was that a joke? I wondered speechless with surprised.
Trowa just stood there with his arms crossed…he raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch and smiled.