Part .02
Martin was standing over by the edge of the garden, his back to us. His hair was much blonder than it appeared to be in the picture, and much shorter; almost a crew cut, but not quite. As I stood there for a few milliseconds, wondering how long ago his picture had been taken and put into the computer files, I held my breath.
"Martin," I finally released the breath with that one syllabled word. He turned his head sharply. I can barely stop my thoughts from breaking down the wall that I had so carefully put up. Smiling, he raced toward me. I was reminded of one time before, when that same thing had happened.
[gray thoughts]
I'm seven or eight, the age is blurry and hard to tell. Mikaele and I are outside. I can see Frances ahead, in the distance, speaking to Martin, fighting with Martin. Mikaele and I don't care at this moment for anything. We are making troops out of twigs, leaves, and other foliage. Picking up a large purple flower, I methodically shred it into pieces, twenty, enough for the entirety of my troop.
We're supposed to be on a mission. However, it is a set time limit mission. We are not wanted nor expected back until fifty minutes has passed. Its supposed to teach us patience, teach us to follow orders. We always finish these sort of missions as quickly as we can, then we scatter -- in a radios of about ten meters -- in the area.
I watch appreciatively as Frances and Martin and practice some moves. They are not the best, they are not the worst. They are quite in the middle, unimpressive with not being good and not being bad. They both have my best wishes, at that moment, to become the best that they can be.
Fran is large, dark. By far the biggest of us, she has the curliest hair I can imagine. Its very thin, much thinner than my hair, but its inch of growth is wavy and crimpy. I smile when I look at her, because I know that we will be getting our hair cut. Whenever Frances' hair gets too curly, we all get shaven. Its a sort of game, pinching each other, telling each other in three or four days we'll be newly bald soldiers.
Martin is not nearly as dark as Frances. His skin is a dark tan. Thinking on it, I suppose you could say that his skin is a light brown. His eyes are brown too, and they're very large. Sometimes when he's afraid, I think I can see his thoughts in his eyes. I don't tell Dad this, because he'll give me more of the hot stuff through the wires, and I don't like that. Sometimes, when his hair gets in his eyes, his entire face is brown except for his lips. I find this funny, but I have never told anyone.
I am counting the time in my head. I know that we have ten minute left. My troops are finished and Mikaele and I are having a lot of fun just ordering them around. Their missions are much more complicated than the ones that we are sent on. They can always hear what people are thinking and they are perfect and Mikaele and I never yell at them.
Eight minutes to go, I glance up. I have no idea why I am glancing up, I don't need to, we have eight minutes, but it just seems like the thing to do right now. I see Martin and fighting; I hold my breath. Finally, he gets hit by Fran. He falls. I can't help it, I let out my breath in a soft "Martin."
He looks up. Martin stands up and runs to me, telling me that its okay, he isn't hurt, and he'll never be hurt as long as I'm here to protect him. He knows this, he says, because I've told him that so many times. At this moment, I hope with my spirit that it will always be true.
[/gray thoughts]
I blinked my eyes. I knew that I wanted to cry, but I wanted to stop. I needed to stop, because I was his leader, I was his commander. Martin looked up at me, his eyes filled with tears. I couldn't help it, I reached up to his hair and said, "You bleached it."
Martin grinned at me. Quickly reaching up to brush the tears out of his eyes, Martin said with a light air, "I think it looks good."
"You look like a ruffian," I told him sternly. "I didn't raise you to be a ruffian." Zack laughed. I turned to him, frowning. "I don't see anything funny about this," I said decidedly. "Its not like Martin had any mother like I've had. I was his example, you ought to know that. This shows badly for me."
Zack shook his head. "Ty-girl, you've got to let lose," he said. I looked at him in amazement. Zack telling me to let lose? That had to be some sort of glitch in him. "Martin's a grown boy."
"Naw," Martin smiled down at me. I suddenly realized that he was a head taller than me. Even my brother was taller than me. I was never going to get a break. "Tyronica is still my commander."
I almost whispered those words like I had whispered so long ago, I will always be your commander and I will always take care of you. I didn't, I held myself back. I wasn't certain why I held back, it seemed to be the correct thing to do at the moment. Maybe I should have let myself go. I will never know what would have happened, because of the mere fact that it will never happen.
"Who're you, sir?" Martin looked up toward Zack with sudden interest. I suddenly felt very proud; of the polite way that Martin had addressed this stranger and of the mere fact that Zack was such an important personage.
"This is X-5 330," I said, falling back so that they may grasp hands. Martin's eyes fairly popped out of his head as he shook Zack's hand. I had struck gold with that information.
"The leader of the X-5s?" Martin turned to me with this question. I nodded my head slowly. Martin gave a small start and spoke hurriedly. "Sir, it is an honor to meet you. At home," -- both Zack and I inwardly flinched at the mention of Manticore as home -- "you were on top of the Soldier Efficiency list. Being born a year after your departure, it was a challenge to beat even your worst times."
"How did you know of my times?" Zack asked. I grinned. I had been away from him for two years -- measly time, in the whole counting thing, because it didn't matter -- and he had already forgotten several things.
"We are," I answered for Martin, "expert computer programmers and hackers. Have you forgotten?"
Zack touched his forehead lightly, admitting that he had forgotten. "Its been to long, Ty-girl."
"Whatever," I brushed off Zack's admittance that there had been a passage of time between our last visits. "Look, Martin, you said you knew where the others are?"
"Yes, I've got all of their addresses here," Martin produced a small, spiral bound notebook, which I instantly snatched from his hands. On a second glance, I noticed how much larger his hands were than my own were. I had missed his grower larger than me; though he had always been larger than me, it hadn't been so obvious before.
I flipped through the notebook, looking at the names. "They're all there," I said, happily taking into my brain the notes that Martin had written. "How did you get them? Do all of them have this information?"
"No," Martin grinned wickedly. I suddenly got the feeling from him that he was very proud. "I'm the only one."
"I sense there is something that you leave out, brother," I told him, trying to meet his eyes. "What happened?"
Martin's smile was huge. I had never seen him smile like that. It was full of spirit that I was unfamiliar with. "Well," he started. I interrupted him.
"Sorry," I said quickly. He stopped speaking and waited for me to begin. I felt instantly proud of myself. Martin was still ready to obey me and stop speaking just to let me speak. It felt so good to be back in charge. "I need information. This is the order in which I need it.
"Number one. I thought you were all dead. I saw body bags being taken away. I didn't hear you, at all. Why didn't you come back to me? I suppose it wasn't the smartest thing you guys could have done, but I didn't search for you because I was so certain you were dead.
"Number Two. Where did you all go after you escaped? How did you know to go there? And how did you find them all? If you had all scattered, it would have been one hell of a trek just to look for them, Martin.
"Number three. Why hasn't Lezli this information. She was always so . . . bossy . . . I supposed I sort of expected her or Mikaele to be leading the group after if I wasn't there. What made them chose you?" I stopped speaking, looked at Martin, and nodded, ready for him to tell me the answers to my question.
Martin was standing over by the edge of the garden, his back to us. His hair was much blonder than it appeared to be in the picture, and much shorter; almost a crew cut, but not quite. As I stood there for a few milliseconds, wondering how long ago his picture had been taken and put into the computer files, I held my breath.
"Martin," I finally released the breath with that one syllabled word. He turned his head sharply. I can barely stop my thoughts from breaking down the wall that I had so carefully put up. Smiling, he raced toward me. I was reminded of one time before, when that same thing had happened.
[gray thoughts]
I'm seven or eight, the age is blurry and hard to tell. Mikaele and I are outside. I can see Frances ahead, in the distance, speaking to Martin, fighting with Martin. Mikaele and I don't care at this moment for anything. We are making troops out of twigs, leaves, and other foliage. Picking up a large purple flower, I methodically shred it into pieces, twenty, enough for the entirety of my troop.
We're supposed to be on a mission. However, it is a set time limit mission. We are not wanted nor expected back until fifty minutes has passed. Its supposed to teach us patience, teach us to follow orders. We always finish these sort of missions as quickly as we can, then we scatter -- in a radios of about ten meters -- in the area.
I watch appreciatively as Frances and Martin and practice some moves. They are not the best, they are not the worst. They are quite in the middle, unimpressive with not being good and not being bad. They both have my best wishes, at that moment, to become the best that they can be.
Fran is large, dark. By far the biggest of us, she has the curliest hair I can imagine. Its very thin, much thinner than my hair, but its inch of growth is wavy and crimpy. I smile when I look at her, because I know that we will be getting our hair cut. Whenever Frances' hair gets too curly, we all get shaven. Its a sort of game, pinching each other, telling each other in three or four days we'll be newly bald soldiers.
Martin is not nearly as dark as Frances. His skin is a dark tan. Thinking on it, I suppose you could say that his skin is a light brown. His eyes are brown too, and they're very large. Sometimes when he's afraid, I think I can see his thoughts in his eyes. I don't tell Dad this, because he'll give me more of the hot stuff through the wires, and I don't like that. Sometimes, when his hair gets in his eyes, his entire face is brown except for his lips. I find this funny, but I have never told anyone.
I am counting the time in my head. I know that we have ten minute left. My troops are finished and Mikaele and I are having a lot of fun just ordering them around. Their missions are much more complicated than the ones that we are sent on. They can always hear what people are thinking and they are perfect and Mikaele and I never yell at them.
Eight minutes to go, I glance up. I have no idea why I am glancing up, I don't need to, we have eight minutes, but it just seems like the thing to do right now. I see Martin and fighting; I hold my breath. Finally, he gets hit by Fran. He falls. I can't help it, I let out my breath in a soft "Martin."
He looks up. Martin stands up and runs to me, telling me that its okay, he isn't hurt, and he'll never be hurt as long as I'm here to protect him. He knows this, he says, because I've told him that so many times. At this moment, I hope with my spirit that it will always be true.
[/gray thoughts]
I blinked my eyes. I knew that I wanted to cry, but I wanted to stop. I needed to stop, because I was his leader, I was his commander. Martin looked up at me, his eyes filled with tears. I couldn't help it, I reached up to his hair and said, "You bleached it."
Martin grinned at me. Quickly reaching up to brush the tears out of his eyes, Martin said with a light air, "I think it looks good."
"You look like a ruffian," I told him sternly. "I didn't raise you to be a ruffian." Zack laughed. I turned to him, frowning. "I don't see anything funny about this," I said decidedly. "Its not like Martin had any mother like I've had. I was his example, you ought to know that. This shows badly for me."
Zack shook his head. "Ty-girl, you've got to let lose," he said. I looked at him in amazement. Zack telling me to let lose? That had to be some sort of glitch in him. "Martin's a grown boy."
"Naw," Martin smiled down at me. I suddenly realized that he was a head taller than me. Even my brother was taller than me. I was never going to get a break. "Tyronica is still my commander."
I almost whispered those words like I had whispered so long ago, I will always be your commander and I will always take care of you. I didn't, I held myself back. I wasn't certain why I held back, it seemed to be the correct thing to do at the moment. Maybe I should have let myself go. I will never know what would have happened, because of the mere fact that it will never happen.
"Who're you, sir?" Martin looked up toward Zack with sudden interest. I suddenly felt very proud; of the polite way that Martin had addressed this stranger and of the mere fact that Zack was such an important personage.
"This is X-5 330," I said, falling back so that they may grasp hands. Martin's eyes fairly popped out of his head as he shook Zack's hand. I had struck gold with that information.
"The leader of the X-5s?" Martin turned to me with this question. I nodded my head slowly. Martin gave a small start and spoke hurriedly. "Sir, it is an honor to meet you. At home," -- both Zack and I inwardly flinched at the mention of Manticore as home -- "you were on top of the Soldier Efficiency list. Being born a year after your departure, it was a challenge to beat even your worst times."
"How did you know of my times?" Zack asked. I grinned. I had been away from him for two years -- measly time, in the whole counting thing, because it didn't matter -- and he had already forgotten several things.
"We are," I answered for Martin, "expert computer programmers and hackers. Have you forgotten?"
Zack touched his forehead lightly, admitting that he had forgotten. "Its been to long, Ty-girl."
"Whatever," I brushed off Zack's admittance that there had been a passage of time between our last visits. "Look, Martin, you said you knew where the others are?"
"Yes, I've got all of their addresses here," Martin produced a small, spiral bound notebook, which I instantly snatched from his hands. On a second glance, I noticed how much larger his hands were than my own were. I had missed his grower larger than me; though he had always been larger than me, it hadn't been so obvious before.
I flipped through the notebook, looking at the names. "They're all there," I said, happily taking into my brain the notes that Martin had written. "How did you get them? Do all of them have this information?"
"No," Martin grinned wickedly. I suddenly got the feeling from him that he was very proud. "I'm the only one."
"I sense there is something that you leave out, brother," I told him, trying to meet his eyes. "What happened?"
Martin's smile was huge. I had never seen him smile like that. It was full of spirit that I was unfamiliar with. "Well," he started. I interrupted him.
"Sorry," I said quickly. He stopped speaking and waited for me to begin. I felt instantly proud of myself. Martin was still ready to obey me and stop speaking just to let me speak. It felt so good to be back in charge. "I need information. This is the order in which I need it.
"Number one. I thought you were all dead. I saw body bags being taken away. I didn't hear you, at all. Why didn't you come back to me? I suppose it wasn't the smartest thing you guys could have done, but I didn't search for you because I was so certain you were dead.
"Number Two. Where did you all go after you escaped? How did you know to go there? And how did you find them all? If you had all scattered, it would have been one hell of a trek just to look for them, Martin.
"Number three. Why hasn't Lezli this information. She was always so . . . bossy . . . I supposed I sort of expected her or Mikaele to be leading the group after if I wasn't there. What made them chose you?" I stopped speaking, looked at Martin, and nodded, ready for him to tell me the answers to my question.