Chapter 59
The weapon
"Why are we out here?" Fedor asked.
Adrien looked back, but knew Blue hadn't followed. Even with Katja's unintentional betrayal, he really hoped not to come back to see her body decorating the walls. If Blue had as much… humanity… as Adrien believed, then…
"It worked. And you're a sonvabitch for it," Adrien stated without preamble.
"What worked?" Fedor demanded.
"You successfully trained a human to manipulate an alien hunter to her will," Adrien continued.
"I did not train her," Fedor argued.
"But the idea started with you. Problem is, the conditioning is more effective than you probably imagined or intended," Adrien said, ignoring the protest.
"…What do you mean?" Fedor became quiet.
"The hunter she got under her will? The one outside your house? Likes her, a lot," Adrien answered emphatically.
"I don't understand?" Fedor asked in exasperation.
"Put it this way. If both of them were in your little cage, you wouldn't have needed to have her artificially inseminated in an experiment," Adrien put bluntly. Actually, he didn't know if that was true, but he was hoping to shock Fedor into fear.
"…Are you a religious man, Captain?" Fedor asked an unexpected question instead.
"Yes," Adrien answered without hesitation.
"Then you know of the angels who came to Earth because they desired human women, resulting in offspring commonly referred to as the Nephilim," Fedor stated.
"Project Goliath," the American acknowledged as the references fell into place. "A giant."
"Maybe not just Sunday stories," Fedor mused externally. So, that's where he got the idea in the first place... "Is she… carrying?" the old man ventured cautiously.
"Possibly," Adrien shrugged, pretending he didn't care. Let the man sweat that for a little bit – which he seemed to be.
"…With her lieutenant's baby," he finally finished.
"Maksim Petrov? Well, it took him long enough," Fedor huffed, though he seemed relieved to hear his potential grandchild wasn't part alien. And not even a pause to ask which lieutenant.
Old man had thrown out Petrov's name without hesitation or question. Wow, that meant everyone but Katja knew. She should really be embarrassed.
That made Adrien pause mentally, however. Had Petrov been manipulated? Was that what long-lasting effects under her influence created? Farm Boy certainly had been obsessed with her.
The theory was possible; though it could also have been simple human hormones at work. Now that Petrov was dead, it was impossible to know for sure.
"I assume he was killed, if he's not here with you. They assigned him to her unit deliberately, I'm afraid," Fedor sighed. "And it wasn't even a test of the boy's responsiveness to her. It was a test for Jekaterina. Once she did have a soldier completely under her command, under her total emotional sway, what would she do? Reject him and keep a distance? Or respond in kind?" He shrugged sadly. "I suppose we, at least, know the answer." His voice became slower, quieter. "My baby. Turned into a… weapon, born of an experiment dreamed in a Siberian crypt."
Shuddering, Adrien moved on.
"Listen, your daughter is part of an alien society now. An actual citizen. You, by extension, are being brought into this. You are going to destroy everything, and I do mean everything, on alien life in your government that we can't. It means her life and yours is at its end, anyway. Do you understand?"
"I do," Fedor answered coolly.
"You have to destroy the closed-circuit backups and hard copies. Make up some excuse to go in and get it done. Now, I also need everything you have on my boss, Bob Lang," Adrien followed up.
"There is plenty. What specifically do you need, and why?" Fedor requested.
"The reason I am here now and not with Katja in America is because we stumbled upon Weyland. Heard of them? Fortune 500 company, with shady alien dealings? Bob tried to have us killed to keep his collaboration and corruption under wraps. I need to unseat him to go home," Pierce explained.
"Then it would not be enough," Fedor shook his head.
"Maybe let me decide that," Adrien countered.
"You do not understand. He will buy judges. Weyland will protect him, or they burn too. It is a fool's errand to try."
"Well, what do you suggest?" Adrien asked, annoyed.
"He needs to disappear. But it must seem like he fled, not that he was killed. Then take the evidence to a judge. Do not include Weyland in the charges. That would be your end," Fedor explained.
Adrien suspected he'd have to mull that over for a solution. "Give me what you have, and I'll make it work," he said.
"And Jekaterina?" Fedor demanded.
"Assuming the 'other man' doesn't do a one-eighty and take her to his planet, I'll… relocate her to America. If I clear my name," Adrien explained. "I suggest you also look into vulnerable members within your government, because someone let Weyland in Russia's back door. Oh, and no telling Katja about her secret admirer, or that'll be the end of us both."
"I accept those terms," Fedor agreed. Surprisingly, with no fight.
"Then let's go back. Too friggin' cold out here," Adrien motioned.
"Captain?" Fedor questioned sharply.
"What?" asked Adrien warily.
"Do no harm to my baby girl. Understand?"
The walk back was in silence. Everything that needed to be said, had been. The next step was to find out if Katja was even still alive to bring to America.
As they approached, Adrien didn't have the prickling sixth sense of being watched from somewhere.
Blue was either gone, or killing Katja right this instant. Her dad began to hang up his coat and take his boots off. Adrien, meanwhile, drew his sidearm and headed for her room; ignoring the sleeping Alexei who was still in front of the laptop.
Cracking the door slowly for stealth proved to be useless as the hinges squeaked so very loudly.
Inside, he immediately spotted the damn cat. It calmly lifted its head, glowing eyes looking at him. The Russian weapon herself was still asleep and unharmed.
Relief momentarily hit Adrien, but then he noticed...
No Blue. He wasn't here, or outside. Maybe he'd left completely… or went to relay the information to his superiors to get his next directive. Now they'd probably all die.
Fedor came from behind and tugged him deftly into the hall. Adrien was taken slightly aback by the shocking amount of strength and dexterity the old man had for his age. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, gesturing at the gun.
"My post traumatic stress, I would guess. Been a hard time in Siberia, and I'm hardwired a certain way now," Adrien shrugged off, not bringing the Blue into it.
"I see," Fedor said, clearing his throat awkwardly, clearly not able to relate. Asshole. "I can… get you a blanket and pillow for the night. The couch is more comfortable than it looks."
"Yeah, ok," Adrien nodded.
Katja was dreaming again; except this time, she knew it. Something… was preventing her from waking.
That… thrumming noise from the ceiling… she knew what it was, but couldn't reconcile it in her brain. She just knew it was a comfort.
Petrov was before her, playing with her hair. Alive. Making her forget all about the noise.
He didn't speak.
"Maksim?" Some part of her knew he wasn't going to speak. He couldn't.
He was gone.
Anything he said or did would just be coming from her own mind.
"I miss you. I wish... I want to stay here with you," Katja murmured. And she meant it. All that was left for her was to clear evidence of the Yautja from the government, and then get revenge for her men. There was nothing else.
Petrov was already shaking his head.
Touching his face, Katja sighed a little. "I know. I can't. Just like I can't bring you or our men back. But it will never happen again. To anyone."
Waking, Katja sat up, displacing Mishka, who chirped indignantly. "Sorry, buddy," she said, a bit shaken.
Wait.
Where was Adrien? Had her father done something to him? Where was Blue?
"Adrien?" she cried frantically as the dream of Petrov slowly burned from her mind, like an afterimage. "Adrien, where are you?"
In her panic, she had shouted in Russian. Shaking her head, she jumped from the bed and rushed from the room.
As she flew past the living room, she skidded to a stop, having seen a quick glimpse of something.
Backtracking, she discovered Adrien asleep on one of the sofas, and Alexei on the other.
The three dachshunds were poised at the foot of Adrien's sofa, noses pointed up at him expectantly. Someone had pushed their booster block away from the furniture, otherwise Adrien would probably have been swarmed already.
The three heads swiveled to look at her, and Sasha began to freak out, which naturally set off the other two.
Katja didn't know what time it was, but people were still clearly asleep.
"You guys! Please! Quiet!" she hissed.
Adrien rolled over on the sofa, almost falling off. "Too early for this shit," he complained, still clearly half-asleep.
Mind now at ease, Katja waded through the dachshunds and leaned over the sofa to touch him. Warm, and alive. "Adrien, you okay?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
Chewing her lip, Katja tried to explain, "My dad isn't… I don't trust him."
"Nothing I can't handle." Sitting up, Adrien yawned and patted the cushion next to him. "Come here, kid. We have some stuff to talk about."
Furrowing her brow, Katja sat beside him. She didn't mean to sit quite so close, but he was… he was there, and she didn't want him to disappear too.
From nowhere, Mishka jumped onto the sofa with them, and lie with his front half on Katja's lap, his butt on Adrien's lap.
Before Adrien could say anything, Olga shuffled in, wearing her nightgown. "What did you do to my babies?" she demanded in Russian.
"Nothing, mother," Katja said hurriedly. "They just wanted to get on the couch, and their step wasn't close enough."
"I'm not talking to you," Olga huffed, "I'm talking to that cat. My babies hate that it took over their house. Ever since you disappeared, and Fedor went to get it from your neighbor and insisted on bringing it here, they haven't been themselves. Peeing in the house, barking–"
"Mother, they always pee in the house and bark. Why don't you let them outside, and I'll make some breakfast after I talk to Adrien," Katja said tiredly. She did find it shocking, though, that her father had gone to get Mishka, and cared for him. She hadn't expected him to remember she even had a cat.
Placated, Olga said, "Fine," and summoned the dogs to follow her from the room. Naturally, it took a few tries, but eventually they left.
"Why is half of this thing in my lap?" Adrien asked, looking down at Mishka, giving the cat a few reluctant pats.
"It's just my cat, Mishka. He likes people. Where's Blue?" Katja moved on.
"Doing… whatever is on Blue's agenda, I guess," Adrien shrugged. Katja gave him a weary look at his dismissal.
"Well, I don't know. He up and left, and didn't feel the need to share where he was going with me," Adrien said defensively. Odd. She hadn't been accusing him of anything.
What was he withholding?
"Fine, what do you want to talk about?" Katja asked around a yawn, trying to sound casual. Adrien could get worked up fast; best to let him tell things in his own time. He always did.
She watched as Adrien set himself, took a breath, stopped, reset himself, and finally spoke. "I need you to come home with me. To America. I can't do this alone."
Taken aback, Katja started to shift away from him, but remembered Mishka and remained still.
America? What did that have to do with Blue? Anyway, it was out of the question now. She had… she had things to take care of here. "You're smarter than me, you'll do fine. I have to stay and find justice," Katja told him evenly, hoping this would be the end of things. It should be enough.
She still didn't even know if Adrien liked her all that much.
"No, Katja. I can't do this alone. I'm about to make Bob Lang 'get disappeared', and make his legacy one of crime. Weyland may turn around and come after me in response, so I need a quick thinker on my side. And even if I succeed, there is still the issue of the hunters. You are the clan member here, not me," Adrien said in one long breath. No, he was pleading with her.
"You know I can't, Adrien," Katja looked away.
She felt his arm against her go tense. "We can still get the bastards. In between purging data, we can use the CIA resources to go after the Russian government. We can go after Weyland. Hell, if you want, we can go after the United States. But that means coming with me."
Katja stayed silent, thinking about that. She wanted to get her men the revenge they deserved: Politicians hanging from short ropes, her people's names and faces plastered on every news network. Their families being interviewed over and over again.
But… the survivors still needed her. Before she was inevitably sent to prison, she'd help those who were left. And she had promised Adrien that he'd go home.
And Slater…
She thought of the knife that Petrov had gifted her, sitting back on Blue's ship. Waiting to meet Slater.
Slater was in America.
"I'll help you, but I can't stay there forever," Katja ventured.
Part of her wondered if she was doing the right thing, but… she hadn't committed to staying in America. Just long enough to help Adrien.
"Course not," Adrien agreed, entirely too fast.
"I'm serious," Katja emphasized.
"I know," he nodded.
"Ok."
"Ok," he seconded.
"Go make breakfast for everyone," Katja ordered, entirely too annoyed that he didn't take her seriously.
"I have a feeling that is your chore, not mine."
"But you're a great cook, and maybe my… Olga… will finally be impressed by me."
"Fine; you're doing the dishes, though," he smiled and stood.
Vai'dqouulth awoke in his pallet. Alone. The cycle had been fitful, and he may have logged in three Earth hours of sleep at most.
He suspected the lack of a specific companion sharing the sleep cycle with him had caused this condition.
If so, how amusing… his sleeping pallet was highly tailored and customized to his particular needs, and it still had been missing something. Katja.
Or, maybe it was his decision from last night making him feel conflicted. Matters of honor were always clear to him. This situation… not so much.
Katja hadn't asked to be weaponized, and was not aware of it. Therefore, to him, she had committed no wrong. But she was still dangerous. The clan and Yautja needed to be warned, if only that humanity was attempting to do this.
If he did that, she would be killed, without question.
This disquieting fact returned him to the issue of her total innocence in the matter. She had only been an unwitting pup at the time of her conditioning. And what of the honorable actions Katja had done? Did they not also merit consideration?
Then there were also his personal opinions. How much consideration that warranted seemed subjective. Since the arbitrator would be involved, Thell-Thwua'sou would surely call them less than relevant.
Sluggishly, he rose and made his way to the hygienic refresher. Inside, he ran the water streams from the ceiling rather than fill the pit to soak in. Bracing against the wall, he dug his claws into it and ran them down, creating deep scratches in highly resistant material.
Not once in his life had a situation been presented with seemingly no right answer. The closest correct answer to him was simply to ignore it. He knew of the effects now and could resist them.
In the back of his mind, a voice repeated that he would never resist her.
Still, he continued this train of thought. She would never be in Yautja society without him escorting, so manipulating others of his kind seemed unlikely. Even in rulership, he would be there to keep her in check. He didn't need to tell any part of his government, and she wouldn't be killed.
The last part would make him a bad blood, even if the truth was never discovered and the official title never designated to him by extension. Nothing, not his sire, not taking the throne for himself, would prevent that if it became public knowledge.
Going to his neck, he lifted Katja's identity tags, giving them a stroke over with his thumb, feeling the embossed Russian characters in the rather flimsy metal.
Was this what love was? That something, or in this case, someone, was weakness? He felt the definition fit so well in this scenario. Here he was, always trying to live up to honorable standards, ready to sacrifice it all and become a bad blood to save one human.
It went beyond worthy offspring or a superior partner. Something he couldn't put into words. Which made him think that it was this 'love'.
The cleansing liquid ceased, and the elite stepped out. Looking at his mask, he no longer felt worthy of it, becoming a criminal to his clan and the empire. Regardless, he donned every piece of equipment.
If his deception was ever discovered, he'd submit to the punishment. Stopping, he considered that. No, he'd have to flee, collect Katja, and hide them both at the edges of the universe. Perhaps one of the habitable planets without sentient life.
Or he could see if another species would grant them sanctuary, for all that was worth. Yautja could penetrate any known planetary defenses if they really wanted to, and one particular arbitrator would be more than eager to devote untold resources to his capture. And death.
Now stuck in the human eating habits, he made himself a small meal. Or maybe he was just delaying facing Katja.
"Admit your weaknesses. You have them now," Vai'dqouulth cautioned himself.
Ready and fed, he had no more excuses to avoid checking up on the humans. Cloaking, he stepped off the invisible ship and began to make his way to the dwelling of his mate's progenitors.
The tree in the back provided a good view of them all around a table, consuming 'breakfast'. He noted that Adrien's face and body language suggested a similar displeasure to what Vai'dqouulth felt, with no outlet. After all, Katja didn't know. And maybe it was best that way.
Leaning back, he rested and observed, extending the audio signal to understand what was being said.
Katja's adoptive bearer was complaining about her. Alexei was gleefully chiming in. Olga was now tied with Alexei at the top of his mental human kill list. That dishonorable female needed to be brought to a swift end.
When Olga finished, Vai'dqouulth's Earth mate announced she was going to America. Adrien's clan, as Adrien had promised. More than ever, Vai'dqouulth believed himself to be currently inadequate to Katja's needs.
Katja's adoptive bearer was ecstatic about this revelation, for some reason. It became apparent when she talked of perceived great monetary riches that came from the American clans.
Vai'dqouulth began to tune out of the conversation, waiting for Adrien and Katja to take their leave…
Katja washed the dishes, her hands warm and sudsy, trying to avoid the icky pieces of wet food.
Breakfast hadn't gone that badly, especially because Olga was over the moon that she was leaving the country. And Fedor…
Well, her father hadn't said much. She couldn't tell whether he was happy or sad about it. All she knew was she really didn't care anymore.
Adrien had offered to help her with the dishes (despite his earlier negotiations), but after Alexei casually bragged to her that he'd single-handedly created a back door to the Kremlin's most secure database, she'd sent Adrien to double-check Alexei's work instead. Not that he'd probably know what he was looking for, but it was better to have Alexei think he was under scrutiny.
The sunshine hit her face, and Katja paused her work, looking out the window. She wasn't going to see a Russian morning for a while. Might as well make the most of it.
"I am going to miss you, you know," her father's voice said from behind her.
Katja's shoulders automatically hunched. "Alright."
"I truly wish you didn't have to go. But…. your American friend needs help, it seems."
Reluctantly turning from the sink, Katja looked at him. Fedor moved across the kitchen, wordlessly took a clean dish and, standing beside her, dried it with a towel.
"Let me help," he offered.
They began a system, Katja scrubbing, Fedor rinsing and drying. To her gratitude, he didn't attempt to talk to her for a while. Even so, it was the most extended father-daughter interaction she'd ever had with him.
She didn't know why, but she cracked open the metaphorical door for him. Maybe she simply wanted to get the last word in.
"Do you ever wish you'd done things differently?" she asked. "Do you regret anything?"
"Yes," Fedor said, instantly and simply.
Well, she really should have known that she wouldn't get more than that.
"I'm sorry, Jekaterina. Especially for your young man."
"My…" She blinked. "You mean Petrov?"
Fedor nodded. "Yes. Pierce told me…"
"Pierce talks too much," Katja muttered. Why the hell would he have told him about… that. "Commander and subordinate. Guess I'm more like you than I want to admit, aren't I?"
Fedor tilted his head. "You're speaking of your mother. And her relationship with me."
"You never told me she worked for you," Katja accused. She hated herself for how angry she sounded. She wasn't supposed to let him get to her anymore.
"No, I didn't."
Katja, or the five-year-old child inside her, shouted. "But why not!" Her voice rang through the quiet kitchen. "Why couldn't you give me that one thing?"
"Because she weighed on my mind so much… and then I had her daughter, as a constant reminder," Fedor said, taking another dish from her.
She was about to call him out on his crap when he began talking again.
"I should have divorced Olga and married her. If I could go back, I would. At this age, I no longer care about status, or appearances…" Breaking off, he shrugged. "But we can't go back, child."
His bluntness, starkness, and refusal to mince words or hedge like he had yesterday made Katja realize that for once in his life, he was being honest.
But she was too furious to care. "No."
"And I can't repair our relationship either, can I?"
"No," she said again.
Taking the final dish from her, he kissed her cheek. She felt the wetness of his tears. "Oh, my child. I love you so."
She had no reply.
Not much later, Katja gathered Adrien and Alexei and stuffed Mishka in his carrier. She didn't know if Blue would allow him on his ship, but she wasn't going to America without him.
"You have my contact information, I'll be in touch when I need the dirt on Bob," Adrien spoke with her father.
"I will also put you in contact with Russia's legal advisors in America. They should be able to help you too," Fedor added.
"Thanks. I'll need every advantage with corrupt courts in play," Adrien nodded.
Her parents walked her to the door and gave their goodbyes. Olga handed Alexei another pastry and pinched his cheek.
As they left the house, Katja could hear Olga saying, "I'm so glad to be rid of that cat."
Fedor cleared his throat. "I'm not, Olga. Do you know what? I have decided I like cats. In fact, once your dogs have passed, I'm getting a cat. No more dachshunds."
Olga sputtered as the front door closed, then Katja could hear muffled shouting.
"Is your mother yelling at him, or us?" Adrien asked.
"Him."
"Uh-oh."
"Better him than us," Katja replied cheerily.
At last, his human charges emerged from the dwelling. Vai'dqouulth heard Katja discreetly whisper to Adrien, "What do we do now? Blue isn't here." She was carrying some boxy, unwieldy vessel in her hand, and it smelled like…
The feline?
"Head back to the last location of his ship, I guess," the marine suggested.
Vai'dqouulth raced ahead and waited at the ramp. Before long, the humans found him.
"Blue!" Katja exclaimed and, placing the vessel on the ground, ran to him.
Guilt festered. He was hoping an instinct to kill would surface upon interacting with her again. But no, he did not feel that urge.
Throwing her arms around him in an embrace, she began to babble, "Where were you? I was so worried!"
Looking past her, he watched Adrien brandish his smaller kinetic weapon. The male knew he couldn't win in a fight, but he assumed Vai'dqouulth was going to kill Katja and refused to allow it without at least trying to defend her.
For some reason, this reassured Vai'dqouulth. Adrien wasn't so repulsed by what Katja was that he would abandon her. He would loyally continue to care for her in America. Perhaps he should learn from his example.
"I retired to my ship," Vai'dqouulth answered simply and truthfully, patting her back. "Risk of discovery was too high."
She looked up. "I missed you. Hope you got some rest."
"I did," Vai'dqouulth stated again, taking notice of Adrien hiding the weapon so as not to raise suspicion.
"I need just a little more help from you. I know I have no right to ask," Katja requested.
"What do you require?" the elite queried without hesitation.
"With your permission, I am going to America to assist the clan with Adrien," Katja folded her hands over themselves.
"I requested him to take you, yes," Vai'dqouulth acknowledged, regaining at least a little bit of feeling of control.
"Oh. Ok, can we please stop by my apartment? I just need some basics for relocation there. Nothing crazy, and my parents will store the rest for when I move back to Russia," Katja explained.
Vai'dqouulth glanced at Adrien, and he shook his head in response. The message was clear. Coming back was not a reality.
"I will plot a course," Vai'dqouulth agreed.
"But first… can you take me to a graveyard? I need to say goodbye to… someone," Katja said with more fragmented sentences. Interesting; he was not going to pass this opportunity up, although visiting the dead seemed pointless.
"Sei-i," he agreed, and she showed him the location in which she wanted to go. Not far from their current location.
The humans came onto the ship once more, and Vai'dqouulth headed to the pilot's chair to start plotting a course.
"I know what you're feeling. Helpless, powerless," Adrien stated as he walked in and leaned against a wall. "The crushing reality of knowing that you've already lost, but your mind hasn't quite accepted it."
Vai'dqouulth looked at him. Reluctantly, he nodded.
"That's what being prey feels like, Blue."
The Yautja looked away. He was prey to nothing. And yet… the description of his current mood was… accurate. Still, he detected Adrien was deriving a sort of enjoyment at the ironic position he was in.
"It's not her fault," Adrien continued, a little less harshly. Vai'dqouulth knew that fact, but repeating the mantra hadn't been helping him reconcile the situation.
"She's just a victim, like us," the human continued. "She was just a little child who was given to the wrong people."
Despite having the exact same thoughts earlier, Vai'dqouulth didn't speak, interested in where Adrien was going with this.
"You tell your people?" Adrien finally asked.
Vai'dqouulth shook his head in response. "No. And I am now a criminal, even if the Yautja do not ever discover this treachery."
"To them, maybe. Trust no government, Blue. Not even your own. You know what's right, I know what's right. Let's do what's right, then, huh? Governments be damned," Adrien said firmly, but the hunter could see even his faith was wavered.
"For honor," Vai'dqouulth agreed, still somewhat unsure; but Adrien was a criminal to his clan, and Vai'dqouulth had never seen him as anything but an honorable warrior. The same went for his Earth mate.
"Right on," Adrien patted his shoulder.