"S...stand up."
She stood, slowly, and she saw the opportunity and, scared as she was, she couldn't help herself. Wit was one of her skills and one of her best emotional defenses.
"Thought you didn't want me to move," she quipped wryly. In response, Deleana cocked back the pistol and Max stiffened.
"NOT a good time to get smart with me, Max."
"Point taken," she said with a gulp. They stood there for a moment, staring each other down, Deleana shifting her weight back and forth between each foot. And then a strange grin spread over her face and she was giggling manically, a reaction Max had seen and learned about early on in her Manticore days. Weak people acted this way when they were deathly nervous and afraid. It was their pathetic way of dealing with unpleasant emotion. It was a way of reassuring oneself when nothing truly offered any sort of reassurance.
"I knew it from the beginning," Deleana whispered in a tone that matched her shaky giggles. "I didn't want to believe it, but I should have gone with my instinct and bolted right away. It's too late for that...but oh well, I've got you. And you're not taking me back."
I'm not taking you back? Max rolled the woman's words over in her head, understanding on some level but still unable to make sense of it. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"YOU, you freak!" her attacker screamed. The gun shook wildly and Max detected a cringe, an aversion to the word "freak." It hurt her to say it; she used it for effect, not because she truly meant it. Information compounded in Max's mind but she as yet could arrive at no conclusions. She felt blocked and free at the same time, connected and distant, and her brilliant mind didn't seem able to serve its purpose in this case. Was there something else on which she must rely? All her training and experience told her that it was wrong to go by emotion on something like this, and even though she was an advocate of acting human and as more than a soldier she agreed with that lesson. To think through a difficult situation you needed to analyze it objectively, and any sort of sentiment clouded that.
She tried to think of something really smart to say, something that would help her but all she could manage was "freak?"
Deleana nodded. "Don't think I don't know what you are...who sent you? That Lydecker bastard? He would, fucking sadist..." It was all so clear. She was right. Dammit, she was right.
"Okay..." Thoughts streamed through Max's mind and she struggled to put the pieces together, knowing something but not knowing it. "I get that part. You were a surrogate, right?" she offered. To her surprise, the woman laughed...deep and hearty, but chillingly bitter and sorrowful.
"You don't even know! They probably wiped it right out."
"Wiped WHAT out?" Why did she have to be so goddamn cryptic about everything?
"That's the point!" She was practically hyperventilating at this point, shaking violently with her eyes misting over, the beginnings of a flood of tears trying to poke through. Some amount of sense that Max had suddenly regained finally rendered clear the obvious truth, that Deleana truly did not want to kill her, that she was trying to steel herself enough to have the strength to go through with it but that it wasn't working, so she was trying to think of a way to get out of this. Max relaxed slightly and renewed confidence swept over her, but the crazy lady with the gun wasn't the only one currently uncertain how to handle the situation. Every course of action Max considered seemed so strangely wrong. She could grab the gun, she was fast enough...but she didn't want to. She didn't want to hurt Deleana and she felt like something important was to come out of this. And then the outer edge of the puzzle came together and it seemed so simple; since this woman was a surrogate, had they once seen each other? Was that why everything had felt so wrong this entire time? She inched forward slightly, raising her hand to plead for release of the gun, Deleana's eyes darting from Max's eyes to her feet.
"Okay...look, Dee, if..."
"Don't call me that!" she screamed, taking Max aback. "You're not allowed to call me that!"
"All right, all right. Just...calm down." She advanced further and Deleana waved the gun frantically, feeling as though she were starting to lose control of the situation and not liking it one bit.
"I told you not to move! I'll shoot you! Christ, I'll unload the whole clip in you!"
It was just aggravation, now. She was so weak, this woman. So disappointingly weak, and remaining calm wasn't going to get either of them anywhere. It was time to switch tactics. It was time to go for the throat.
"Oh, is that so?" Max snarled, daring to cross the line over which she knew she might never return. "Well, then why haven't you done it already, huh? What're you waiting for?" Deleana wavered and Max felt the danger but also felt the hope, so she resolved to play it out.
"Shoot me," she challenged. "C'mon. I'm a freak, shoot me."
What the hell...? Deleana's tears fell steadily now and all that existed was anguish; should she do it? Should she ignore what she felt and do as ordered? It might very well save her life, but...
"What's a matter?! What're you waiting for?! Eyes Only is a cover! I'm here to take you back to Manticore, you disobediant slut, so get it the hell over with!"
She was sliding, slipping away. She felt it. The floor was coming up to meet her and she wound her finger around the trigger, trying desperately and forcing the emotions to the background, where she could deal with them later. This is about survival. YOUR survival. Do it, would you? She might not be lying...she might not be lying...
"Shoot me! Shoot me, you stupid bitch!"
For an instant there was nothing and her finger hooked around the smooth protrusion, fitting so perfectly and feeling so right. But the cold was too cold and the gun dropped from her icy fingers, sobs wracking her body and tears streaming out in torrents as she finally fell to her knees.
"I can't," sobbed Deleana and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body, pleading for everything that she felt to go away. Max stood awkwardly staring down at her, figuring that she should probably feel good about having won but instead feeling awful and wanting to wrap her arms around the woman who weeped before her. When Deleana found the strength to speak again, Max had lost it, and everything was spinning and clicking into place and she felt things that even now she didn't know how to handle. "452...my little 452."
~~~FLASHBACK~~~
"452...my little 452."
"The others in my barracks call me Max. You can call me Max, too."
"Okay...Max."
"Do you have a name?"
"Yeah...Kristina."
"Hello, Kristina."
~~~END FLASHBACK~~~
Max, too, fell to her knees, realization consuming everything. This woman wasn't just a surrogate. It was HER surrogate. And that woman she had been told to forget, who had come to her so many years ago wasn't just a random woman. It was her mother.
Hard exteriors crumbled, and for long moments they kneeled there, four or so feet apart, not even touching -- crying separately, because after almost two decades they were finally together.
*******
Post.Script: So who wins for correct speculation? Well...you're all gonna have to share that title, because just about everyone guessed correctly.
I must warn that I'm having a little trouble in regards to the next few chapters...I'm going to try to have chapter 7 up by Sunday but I can't make any promises, and of course without reviews it's no deal, heh.
She stood, slowly, and she saw the opportunity and, scared as she was, she couldn't help herself. Wit was one of her skills and one of her best emotional defenses.
"Thought you didn't want me to move," she quipped wryly. In response, Deleana cocked back the pistol and Max stiffened.
"NOT a good time to get smart with me, Max."
"Point taken," she said with a gulp. They stood there for a moment, staring each other down, Deleana shifting her weight back and forth between each foot. And then a strange grin spread over her face and she was giggling manically, a reaction Max had seen and learned about early on in her Manticore days. Weak people acted this way when they were deathly nervous and afraid. It was their pathetic way of dealing with unpleasant emotion. It was a way of reassuring oneself when nothing truly offered any sort of reassurance.
"I knew it from the beginning," Deleana whispered in a tone that matched her shaky giggles. "I didn't want to believe it, but I should have gone with my instinct and bolted right away. It's too late for that...but oh well, I've got you. And you're not taking me back."
I'm not taking you back? Max rolled the woman's words over in her head, understanding on some level but still unable to make sense of it. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"YOU, you freak!" her attacker screamed. The gun shook wildly and Max detected a cringe, an aversion to the word "freak." It hurt her to say it; she used it for effect, not because she truly meant it. Information compounded in Max's mind but she as yet could arrive at no conclusions. She felt blocked and free at the same time, connected and distant, and her brilliant mind didn't seem able to serve its purpose in this case. Was there something else on which she must rely? All her training and experience told her that it was wrong to go by emotion on something like this, and even though she was an advocate of acting human and as more than a soldier she agreed with that lesson. To think through a difficult situation you needed to analyze it objectively, and any sort of sentiment clouded that.
She tried to think of something really smart to say, something that would help her but all she could manage was "freak?"
Deleana nodded. "Don't think I don't know what you are...who sent you? That Lydecker bastard? He would, fucking sadist..." It was all so clear. She was right. Dammit, she was right.
"Okay..." Thoughts streamed through Max's mind and she struggled to put the pieces together, knowing something but not knowing it. "I get that part. You were a surrogate, right?" she offered. To her surprise, the woman laughed...deep and hearty, but chillingly bitter and sorrowful.
"You don't even know! They probably wiped it right out."
"Wiped WHAT out?" Why did she have to be so goddamn cryptic about everything?
"That's the point!" She was practically hyperventilating at this point, shaking violently with her eyes misting over, the beginnings of a flood of tears trying to poke through. Some amount of sense that Max had suddenly regained finally rendered clear the obvious truth, that Deleana truly did not want to kill her, that she was trying to steel herself enough to have the strength to go through with it but that it wasn't working, so she was trying to think of a way to get out of this. Max relaxed slightly and renewed confidence swept over her, but the crazy lady with the gun wasn't the only one currently uncertain how to handle the situation. Every course of action Max considered seemed so strangely wrong. She could grab the gun, she was fast enough...but she didn't want to. She didn't want to hurt Deleana and she felt like something important was to come out of this. And then the outer edge of the puzzle came together and it seemed so simple; since this woman was a surrogate, had they once seen each other? Was that why everything had felt so wrong this entire time? She inched forward slightly, raising her hand to plead for release of the gun, Deleana's eyes darting from Max's eyes to her feet.
"Okay...look, Dee, if..."
"Don't call me that!" she screamed, taking Max aback. "You're not allowed to call me that!"
"All right, all right. Just...calm down." She advanced further and Deleana waved the gun frantically, feeling as though she were starting to lose control of the situation and not liking it one bit.
"I told you not to move! I'll shoot you! Christ, I'll unload the whole clip in you!"
It was just aggravation, now. She was so weak, this woman. So disappointingly weak, and remaining calm wasn't going to get either of them anywhere. It was time to switch tactics. It was time to go for the throat.
"Oh, is that so?" Max snarled, daring to cross the line over which she knew she might never return. "Well, then why haven't you done it already, huh? What're you waiting for?" Deleana wavered and Max felt the danger but also felt the hope, so she resolved to play it out.
"Shoot me," she challenged. "C'mon. I'm a freak, shoot me."
What the hell...? Deleana's tears fell steadily now and all that existed was anguish; should she do it? Should she ignore what she felt and do as ordered? It might very well save her life, but...
"What's a matter?! What're you waiting for?! Eyes Only is a cover! I'm here to take you back to Manticore, you disobediant slut, so get it the hell over with!"
She was sliding, slipping away. She felt it. The floor was coming up to meet her and she wound her finger around the trigger, trying desperately and forcing the emotions to the background, where she could deal with them later. This is about survival. YOUR survival. Do it, would you? She might not be lying...she might not be lying...
"Shoot me! Shoot me, you stupid bitch!"
For an instant there was nothing and her finger hooked around the smooth protrusion, fitting so perfectly and feeling so right. But the cold was too cold and the gun dropped from her icy fingers, sobs wracking her body and tears streaming out in torrents as she finally fell to her knees.
"I can't," sobbed Deleana and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body, pleading for everything that she felt to go away. Max stood awkwardly staring down at her, figuring that she should probably feel good about having won but instead feeling awful and wanting to wrap her arms around the woman who weeped before her. When Deleana found the strength to speak again, Max had lost it, and everything was spinning and clicking into place and she felt things that even now she didn't know how to handle. "452...my little 452."
~~~FLASHBACK~~~
"452...my little 452."
"The others in my barracks call me Max. You can call me Max, too."
"Okay...Max."
"Do you have a name?"
"Yeah...Kristina."
"Hello, Kristina."
~~~END FLASHBACK~~~
Max, too, fell to her knees, realization consuming everything. This woman wasn't just a surrogate. It was HER surrogate. And that woman she had been told to forget, who had come to her so many years ago wasn't just a random woman. It was her mother.
Hard exteriors crumbled, and for long moments they kneeled there, four or so feet apart, not even touching -- crying separately, because after almost two decades they were finally together.
*******
Post.Script: So who wins for correct speculation? Well...you're all gonna have to share that title, because just about everyone guessed correctly.
I must warn that I'm having a little trouble in regards to the next few chapters...I'm going to try to have chapter 7 up by Sunday but I can't make any promises, and of course without reviews it's no deal, heh.
