Tuesday
The Call for Authority
"It's about time they do something!" Rick snorted.
Tank had just told him and Rae what had happened to Geordy 20 hours ago. The two couples sat in the Boudreaux's kitchen.
Tank's right hand rested on Diamond's back, his legs stretched out under the table - he felt pretty relaxed and did not completely understand why Rick was so upset.
"Take it easy, man. All they wanted was his money."
"That doesn't matter, Mike! You can defend yourself. But the kids around? And the rumors you hear are getting worse every day. They should organize a raid and burn it all down after. It can't go on like this! These freaks are dangerous!"
"Rick. You talk about people, not roaches or rats!" Rae tried to bring him back to the ground.
"Sometimes I can't see the difference." Rick said.
"You forget yourself, man." Tank said calmly, "Most of them were fighters. They got ruined in a war we're still fighting. That we fight for your safety, among other goals. It could be me just as well."
"No. There was never a freeborn caught among them. Only 'them'."
"Rick!" Rae tried to keep him from insulting their guest, her brother's love.
"Right, Rick." Tank sat up, straightening himself, "those freaks don't even have a family. Nobody cares for them. So before you go and yell for consequences keep in mind that people like you who are quick with pointing their fingers at others bear a part of the guilt." He put his arm around Diamond in a protective gesture.
"Guilt? What did I do?" Rick's voice was filled with disbelieve.
For the first time Diamond spoke
"Nothing. And that's exactly the point, Rick. Like all the others you look away, call for the authorities to do 'something'. You owe them, Rick. Because they volunteered in this war. As Tank said: they are fighting for you. Tank does. I do. And only because most of us have nothing: no family, no roots, you acclaim the right to ignore us? We should take it for granted that Zion cares for us when we need help. - And now excuse me, I don't want to bother your eyes with my plugs any longer." She got up and went upstairs.
They sat there in silence for a while, then Tank got up to meet Diamond.
"Excuse me." Tank felt terrible.
"Michael!", it was Rae, "You know she will always be welcome! We don't make a difference."
"Yeah, Rae. He made that clear. Even I got it." He sighed, "Jeeze, Rick: it was beyond my imagination that my love and my family could be separate matters." He turned and walked upstairs with hanging shoulders.
Promise
Tank reached the room that had been his realm for so many years. A small room with a locker and some shelves, carrying his invaluable treasures: old books, frail from being read countless times. And a bed - old but cozy, even if it was only because it had been his for all his life.
He did not switch on the light, he knew every inch of the room by heart. In the dim light that trickled in through the window he could see a silhouette under the sheets.
Tank slipped under the blanket, hesitantly reaching out for her.
"He didn't mean what he said, Diamond. He's only worried about the kids' safety." His voice was brittle.
"That will never end, will it?" she whispered.
"What?"
"This stupid racism. Dancer was right: it has only another face now. That person - It could have been me just as well."
"Don't say that, please!" the fear Tank suddenly felt was like a steel rim around his heart.
"I could be one of these freaks just as well. Next month, next year, who knows?"
Tank pulled her close, embracing her tightly.
"God, gem, please don't say that! I don't want to lose you. You scare me! This will never ever happen to you, I promise!" he kissed her again and again.
"We'll never part, Tank."
"I love you, Diamond."
"I love you too, Tank." She kissed him and let her hands slide down his back, searching for the hem of his top.
His lips were on her throat, her shoulder, while his hands pulled off her top with a desperate passion, created by the sudden fear of loosing her. They quickly got rid of their remaining clothes. Diamond's lips left burning traces on his chest. She straddled him and while his hands hungrily wandered across her body, searching for her small, firm breasts, she slid further down.
Tank's sighs told her what to do and when to stop.
Then she lowered herself onto him, getting lost in the intense pleasure of their lovemaking.
Wednesday
Wake-ups
"Will you go and lay an information against that freak?" James asked during breakfast.
"I don't know. Won't bring the m-money back." Geordy shrugged.
"Yeah, but you should report it, so they get an idea about how bad the situation really is. If everybody acted like you, they will never realize the problem. - Do you listen to me?" James waved his hand in front of Geordy's face who was staring out of the window.
"I don't like the idea of going to the police. That person w-was just an unlucky one. Why make them go after her?"
"That's not the point, Geordy: they must get the feeling something has to be done. They need to be stumped onto the problem. That's why you should go."
"Maybe you're right, James." Geordy would think it over.
The two men headed for their work.
****
When Rick entered the kitchen it was already late. Diamond was in there, cleaning up. An embarrassing situation.
"Hi." he said and fetched himself a mug, a plate and something to eat.
"Good morning." Nothing in Diamond's voice or behavior suggested her attitude might have changed in any means after last night. That wasn't too hard because she always appeared to be very detached.
Rick sat down and prepared himself.
"Diamond, I want to apologize for what I said last night. I was out of my mind and said things I did not mean. I'm sorry."
"OK. But you should tell Tank, cause he's the one who is really hurt." She went back to her work; the case was settled for her.
****
"OK, Mr. Webster. We'll see what we can do. But don't hope you will get your money back." Mara Cheng had filled the form and now handed it over to Geordy. He signed it.
"Officer, I know the m-money is gone. What we really want i-is to make the administration aware of the situation."
"Why?"
"We have friends among the fighters. W-We feel it c-could be them one day, too. And I t-think they are humans l-like u-us. We should help e-each other."
"Mr. Webster: you should go to the next council-meeting and bring up your concerns there. That would be a far better place. We are only the executive. We don't change things - although I wish we could."
"I-I'll think that over. Thanks for the suggestion, officer." Geordy shuddered at the thought of speaking in public.
Rat-Stew?
Carl Shaeffer worked at the vermin-control. This week rats were on the schedule again. That meant the carcasses had to be collected. They were too big to be left there. Even so the smell sometimes was heavy.
The rats multiplied faster than they could kill them. From time to time they became a real plague. Carl did not really feel disgusted by rats. Basically he saw them just as another being that struggled for life. But they could have the whole sewers! Couldn't they stay away from Zion? Well, they better should have, because he was here and he was on the war-path. With a grim face he entered the locker-room to change his clothing.
Some colleagues were already there, talking and joking.
"Hey Carl! Heard it'll be rat-stew tonight again?" Bart licked his lips.
"Yeah. Soooo yummy." Carl stroked his belly with a savoring gesture.
"Holy cow, you guys are sick!" Shelley grimaced, "you guys believe the freaks eat them rats?"
"Who told you that nonsense, Shel?" Bart asked.
"Yeah. Rats are disgusting. And who would eat them, especially if poisoned? Someone's been kidding you." Carl wiped the thought away. Imbossible!
"Was just a rumor I overheard." Shelley shrugged.
With a bang Carl closed his locker. Right away he started to sweat: the protective clothing they had to wear was definitely too warm for the high temperatures at Zion. Being deep underground, the temperature was about 27 degrees celsius at Zion. Normally people wore tank-tops or t-shirs and thin pants. At work Carl and his mates had to wear overalls that covered them from tip to toe, thick gloves and heavy boots.
At least they would not have to wear the respirators they had to when they used the gas against the roaches. It was only laying down baits and collecting carcasses.
But the beasts were cute! They had spies that would test the bait and the rest of them would wait and see before they would eat themselves. So the research guys worked on super-slow poison and worked out plans to destroy their fertility.
Best thing for today was that the area he had to care for was the hangar-area near El Sleezo's, so he could slip in for a coffee or so.
Carl and his three colleagues went on with the small electric chariot. On every move their light protective overalls caused rustling sounds, their heavy boots thudded on the ground, equipped with giant tweezers to pick up carcasses and big bags to collect them. In addition they had new poisoned baits with them.