Chapter 2

“Ooh, I’ve been wandering round.
But I still come back to you. (Still come back to you.)
In rain or shine, you’ve stood by me, girl.
I’m happy at home. (Happy at home.)
You’re my best friend.”
-Queen, “You’re My Best Friend”

(This chapter takes place in the morning hours on the day of “A Conversation Amongst Equals.”)

“TROY!” Julie shouted as she emerged out of the gantry from the plane and into the terminal of Ted Stevens International Airport. The bleariness of the redeye flight cleared from her head at the sight of him, and she ran into his arms for a power hug, nearly knocking him backwards. Troy Medina held her close, tilted his head back and gave her a brief smooch on the lips, then resumed the hug. Julie thought it unusual for a fraction of a second, and then stopped caring as she squeezed her lifelong best friend some more.

“I thought they didn’t let people this far into the terminal anymore if you’re not flying,” she said after almost a minute of hugging.

“They don’t,” Troy replied, casually looking around. “But, you know, What We Do and all. Also, if anyone asks, you’re my 10-year-old daughter. And it’d still be wise to get out of here and down to Baggage before anyone does ask.”

They broke the hug and started walking toward the baggage claim.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be first off the plane,” Troy told her.

“Advantage of being in the first seat in first class,” she replied, looking off to her side as a flight attendant emerged from the doorway. The woman adjusted her skirt and waved to Julie, mouthing the words “call me.” Julie winked and nodded before turning back to face Troy. “Seen any of the old crowd since you’ve been back, Master?”

Troy smiled. It had been a couple years since he’d heard her call him that except via email, phone, and Skype. He’d still missed it.

“Haven’t had much time for socializing, dealing with the house stuff, Mistress. Some of the old crowd are still around, though.” Julie nodded.

“I’m guessing most of the cool people followed your advice.” It was Troy’s turn to nod and put on an English accent.

“It is the sworn duty of every Alaskan child to escape. Failing that, it is their duty to confound, confuse, and harass the enemy at every turn.”

“Well, anything new?”

“Oh, you know how it goes when you leave Anchorage for an extended period: Friends leave and come back, but apart from a couple new buildings, everything tends to be the same as you left it.”

They talked a bit more about friends who were still in town and what they wanted to see and do while waiting for Julie’s bags. Thanks to some further use of their ability, her bags had been the last loaded, and so were the first off the plane. As they walked out into the light blue of a 3AM sky in June in Alaska to the parking garage and Troy’s car, they unconsciously reached out for each other’s hand.

Troy sat at the breakfast table at Julie’s parents’ house. A small TV was on in the nook between the dining room and the kitchen, and Julie’s father was catching up on international news while she helped her mother clean up the breakfast dishes.

On the screen, Contessa Helena de San Finzione stood on a platform in an Uongoian refugee camp, giving a speech as soldiers handed aid packages out to the refugees. She spoke to the crowd in Swahili as an interpreter translated.

“When the warlords drove you from your homes, you were in need. You needed food. You needed medicine. You needed shelter. You needed to survive. You looked to America, the land that I am by turns proud and ashamed to call the land of my birth, and you told them of your needs. And they gave you ‘their thoughts and prayers.’” She gave a small chuckle before continuing.

“Yes, their thoughts and prayers. And so you tried to treat your injured with thoughts. And your children went to bed with bellies full of prayers. You then looked to the European Union for aid. And they gave you words of condemnation for those who sent you from your homes and ‘their concern for your struggle.’ And so you treated the ill with words of condemnation, and your children ate nothing but their concern.

“And then you looked to San Finzione. And as I speak, our doctors are seeing to the sick amongst you, and our soldiers are handing out the food and water for your children. The warlords tried to blockade your camps, stand between us and you; and we stared them down until they blinked.” She gestured toward the news camera.

“And now the world’s eyes are upon you. They are seeing the truth of what you have suffered, of what you have lost, and what still is to be overcome; and they are learning. They are learning that when you seek empty words, you turn to the so-called ‘superpowers.’ But when you seek a friend who will give all they can, you turn to San Finzione!”

The refugees cheered. Julie’s father turned off the television.

“I always knew that little bitch was going to be trouble, coming from that family and all,” he said to Troy, picking up his coffee. “But I figured she’d just get into drugs or crime or something.”

“She got into something far worse than any of that, Colonel Andrews,” Troy said, taking a drink of his own coffee. “International Politics.”

“Troy, son,” he replied. “When your parents needed a sitter, my wife changed your diapers. If you’re not comfortable with ‘dad’ by now, ‘Tom’ will do.”

“You earned the rank, sir. You’re entitled to it.”

“Ok, call it a fuckin’ order, then,” Col. Andrews said, taking both their cups and walking into the kitchen to refill their coffee. “You ladies all right in here? I could use Troy’s help in the den.”

Julie looked over her shoulder at him with a smile.

“They’re called man caves now, Daddy; and yeah, we’re good here.”

“Yeah, I ain’t gonna call it that.” He held Troy’s cup out to him and gestured for him to follow.

Tom led him into a room with a couple of big recliners flanking an old leather couch with a coffee table in front of it, closing the door behind them. Moving boxes were in packed and half-packed states all over the room. Empty bookshelves lined two walls, and a spot where a big-screen TV once sat opposite the couch was now bare. Discolored spaces on the walls marked where pictures, display cases, and multiple guns once hung, though there were still a few yet be removed. Colonel Andrews set down his coffee and took down an M1 Garand rifle and several pistols that were still up on the wall, setting them on the coffee table before removing a couple of cleaning kits and a bottle of whiskey from a desk drawer.

“Little something stronger in that,” he asked Troy as he sat in the recliner and poured a bit of whiskey into his coffee. Troy nodded negatively and sat close to him on the couch.

“Bit early for me.”

“Well, one of those retirement benefits they don’t tell you about,” he said, taking a drink. “There’s no ‘too early’ anymore.” He pulled the op-rod back on the Garand and inspected the chamber before loading a cleaning patch onto an obstruction remover, attaching it to a cleaning cable, and pushing it down into the bore.

“Well, Troy,” The Colonel said as he slowly pulled the cable from the muzzle end of the gun. “I wanted to have a little word in private with you. You and my daughter have been close friends forever, haven’t you?” Troy took a sip of his coffee.

“I think it’d be safe to say that we haven’t ever NOT been friends, Tom.” Col. Andrews nodded as he flipped the cloth patch over and repeated the process.

“Mm-hmm. And she’s a very beautiful young woman, isn’t she, Troilus?” He dropped some oil onto a cleaning brush and sent it through the bore as well. Troy nodded back, admiring one of the pistols on the coffee table; a Walther PPK.

“I know I’m biased, sir; however, I’d be inclined to say that Julie is the most beautiful woman I know.”

“Then dammit, boy, why the fuck haven’t you ever made a move,” Tom asked, handing Troy the Walther and a pistol cleaning kit. “Shit, you two got that apartment together the summer after high school, still don’t know how you talked us and your parents into that. I figured you two’d be goin’ like rabbits together, but it never happened!”

“It’s like we explained, Tom,” Troy said, staring into his eyes. “Two 18-year-olds just out of high school, having one big summer blast before college? There was GOING to be partying and loud music and being up all night, better to have it happen there than in your home.”

“Yeah, see, always made sense when you talked about it, son. Well, I’ve seen some of the jackasses she’s brought in my door before and since. I’ve always respected her privacy as long as she didn’t get herself knocked up or thrown in jail. And I know all that jewelry hasn’t come from being a sweet kid. But all those boys, and during what I hope was a phase, a couple girls; came and went, and my daughter never even talked about most of those pieces of shit again.”

Troy checked the Walther to make sure the gun was empty and couldn’t resist pointing it at the wall with his left arm raised and his palm outstretched and rocking back and forth a little before reaching for the kit to begin cleaning it.