Chapter 12: An Offer

The young man looked out the window at the lunar surface.

He knew it wasn’t real. He knew what he was looking at was nothing more than a projection of some spot recorded on the surface perhaps a hundred klicks or so above him. He knew with just a sub-vocal command he could have an image from any other planet in the Confederacy on his monitor. If he wanted, he could even see a recorded image of his home. Sure, it wouldn’t be real time – just a recording of some days, weeks or months before – but it could be done.

He liked looking at the lunar surface, though. Especially the image of the lunar surface with the Earth slowly spinning above the lunar ridgeline. It calmed him somehow.

With a sigh, he turned back to the desk. His desk. Only it wasn’t. Not really. It was just a desk in the office temporarily assigned to him by DECO. The Department of Evacuation and Colonial Operations was in charge of Artemis base. While the Navy had some influence over the warren assigned to them, penultimately space was assigned by DECO after a request from the Navy. More than likely those requests were rubber-stamped, but it was still the process.

Like most desks, this one was empty except for a small pad. For a moment, he wondered why they used desks at all. They weren’t needed.

Offices really weren’t needed either. With Confederacy technology, people could work literally anywhere. Proximity was necessary thanks to the physical laws of the universe – piddling things like Newton’s laws and Einstein’s relativity – but dedicated office space seemed like a waste.

Still, the human race was resistant to change. More than likely if he asked the AI it would cite some kind of psychological requirement. The truth was the human race simply liked things to remain stationary. The war with the Sa’arm was just so damned inconvenient.

He rubbed his eyes. He was tired.

No, not tired. Weary. World-weary. He’d never been weary before. It had always seemed like a game before – him against the Sa’arm. A deadly game but those were the best kind. He wasn’t some adrenaline junky, but he did enjoy besting the stupid fucking dickheads. Just like he enjoyed besting those stupid fucking Earth First morons.

He looked back down at the pad. Read the words yet again. The game was changing. The question was whether he could change with it. It was a good offer, all things considered, but the game wouldn’t be as adrenaline filled. It would be more chess than first person shooter.

In the end, he really knew he had no choice. Games were meant to be played. He’d play this one and, in the end, he’d win. He always won. He always would.

“Major, Lieutenant Capstan is waiting outside the office as ordered,” the station AI spoke through his implant.

“Let her in,” the man said, tossing the pad back onto the desk. Enough with the dreary numbers. He was looking forward to seeing his friend again. Maybe she could lift him from this melancholy.

Octavia walked in, coming to a stop just inside the door. The Major noticed the blond was dressed in her daily uniform: black tunic, trousers, boots and kepi and a gray shirt. Strangely, she’d braided her hair rather than keep it in her traditional ponytail.

He frowned. Humans were creatures of habit. A change signified something larger than just hair. Something had altered in the stability he’d always attributed to Octavia’s universe. He had some idea what it was but surely things hadn’t gone that far...

“Sir, Lieutenant Capstan reporting as ... Dervish?”

“It’s good to see you, Oh,” Dervish chuckled, reverting to a long-used pet name for his friend. She didn’t particularly like it – but that was its primary appeal.

He remembered to smile as the surprise covered her face. She hadn’t known he was coming, of course. He’d specifically told the AI to keep who she was meeting secret.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought you’d been sent back to Borneo?”

“I was back at Borneo,” Dervish McTavish chuckled. It was a real chuckle, if somewhat forced. Dervish reflected wryly that as much as he wanted to think himself immune to such things, he was still a creature of habit himself. He was still resistant to change. It was a failing he’d have to watch out for. Not conforming to change could get you killed.

And eaten. And not in the good way.

“In typical bureaucratic inefficiency, I got there just in time for them to issue me new orders sending me back.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Octavia laughed.

She walked over and took a seat across the desk from her friend. She leaned back, her legs moving forward. She was relaxed with Dervish. They’d been friends forever. She knew he wouldn’t stand on ceremony. She could just be herself.

“What did we used to say? Paperwork was just the Admiralty’s way of justifying their existence?”

“Something like that,” Dervish grinned.

He couldn’t help it. Octavia had a way of making the world seem better. He loved her – but like a sister. There was a time, way in the distant past, when he thought it might be more – but they’d both agreed it wasn’t. They worked – but not that way.

“It’s good to see you, though. Actually, I’m glad I caught you before you left the system.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. She was of two minds on the subject. On one hand, her interests here meant she was happy with the typical bureaucratic inefficiency which made things take so long – but on the other, she was ready to get back to work.

“I’m still waiting on my orders. I’m hoping they’ll send me home before they shuttle me off somewhere else. Believe it or not, I’m sort of missing my rugrats. Plus, I’m kind of hoping command will let me add one to the total before shipping me out again.”

“We might be able to arrange that,” Dervish replied thoughtfully, his eyes sparkling. He almost couldn’t hide the smirk. Octavia was smart. She’d figure it out in a second.

“We?” Octavia leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. She’d figured it out even faster than he’d thought. “Who or what is ‘we’? You know something, don’t you?”

Dervish shook his head and smiled. He wasn’t going to give anything away until he absolutely had to. This was a game, too. Another kind of game, less deadly and more fun, but a game nevertheless. “Maybe. First things first. How’s our boy?”

Octavia reclined back in her seat and let out a huge sigh.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. He seemed alright when he first got up here but...” Her voice trailed off as she looked out the viewport. She paused, taking her time. She wasn’t really certain how to explain things. She wasn’t really sure she could explain things.

“He’s having some issues adjusting,” she finished lamely.

“Like what?” Dervish asked. His eyes were narrowed in concern. Calix had been an easy call. The boy was incredibly intelligent with almost unlimited potential. He was confident, self-assured. He shouldn’t have had any problems at all fitting in.

“The AI could probably explain it better than I can,” Octavia replied. “You should ask it.”

“Artemis has already given me his report,” Dervish confirmed. He leaned back into his chair, his lips pursing. He just didn’t understand the report. It was as if the AI were talking about two different people – at the same time. “I’d like to get your take on it.”

Octavia leaned back, looking up towards the ceiling.

“I think Calix is having an identity crisis,” she replied finally. “Maybe more than that. I think – I think he might have – we might have broken him, Dervish.”

Dervish’s eyes narrowed even further. “Broken him? Broken him how?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied with some heat. “I just know the Calix I talked to earlier wasn’t the one we met on the planet. He seemed – unsure of himself.”

She chuckled mirthlessly. “Hell, you remember GlobalTech. You’ve read his CAP scores. He seemed – perfect. Inhuman.”

She paused, sighing, and then looked directly at Dervish. “What if it only works for him down there?”

Dervish took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The AI has been monitoring him. Bio readings, conscious and subconscious. He thinks Cal may have suffered a nervous breakdown.”

“We pushed too hard,” Octavia said softly. “He got blown up looking in that building – and we kept pushing. He took on an entire street gang on his own – and we kept pushing. Hell, he almost got his ass blown up – he almost died – at the pickup and we kept pushing. We should have left him alone for a while.”

“It wasn’t our call,” Dervish muttered. He shook his head. “It was a goddamn clusterfuck. The AI – Hermes – kept close watch on him – vitals and so on – and said he’d recovered. It’s why they gave him an extra two months down there – there were some who wanted to extract him from the fucking hospital.”

“They should have given him more time!” Octavia exclaimed angrily.

“They didn’t want to risk it,” Dervish snarled. He took another deep breath and blew it out, getting ahold of himself. “I’m not supposed to tell you this but – his potential is off the charts. We’ve never seen someone with a genius level intellect who has the physical prowess – the strength, the control, the willpower.”

His hands were claws in front of him, shaking together to signify the young man’s presence. “It’s why they’re putting him in R&D instead of straight combat – they think the way he looks at things – seeing both sides of the issue – he’ll be a game changer for us.”

Dervish shrugged and sighed, leaning back in his chair. “So – they rushed him.”

“Great,” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Now, we have to put him back together again. I found him lying outside my door yesterday, curled in a ball and trembling. I thought he was having a seizure.”

Dervish nodded. “That’s about the same thing Artemis said. As expected, he was just really long-winded about it.”

Dervish’s eyes narrowed in thought. “You know him pretty well. How bad is it?”

Octavia paused to think for a moment. “On a scale of one to ten? I’d give it a twelve, easily. The stupid AI spilled the fact our implants can alter what we see, hear, taste – basically, it told Cal it could control his entire world.”

“I’ve watched the vid,” she went on. “How did it put it? Something like ‘in effect, I can partially control your reality’ – something like that.” Octavia paused. “It wasn’t the worst of it, though. I think it’s just the thing which broke him down. It was kind of the straw that broke the camel’s back. He was – he was bad before then. Dervish, he crawled into the bathroom.” Octavia shuddered. “Unfortunately, I think he was regaining control – and then when the AI told him about the implants, he completely lost it.”

“Didn’t Artemis explain the safeguards in place?” Dervish asked.

“I think it was trying but Cal didn’t give it a chance,” she sighed.

Octavia took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I think Cal has always lived on the jagged edge of being out of control. Well, at least for the past few years. He maintains his edge by living in the moment. He seems to constantly be aware of everything around him. It’s kind of like the foundation that provides his ability to function. Heck, I think it just keeps him sane. I’ve seen something similar in combat veterans – hyper-vigilance. The shrinks claim it’s a form of PTSD – I’m not sure I agree but they know more than I do. I think he’s been this way for a long time. I’m not sure he ever got over his father’s death or his stepmother’s leaving with his stepsisters. It added up – but he was dealing with it because it was his reality. Then, in a single moment, the idiotic AI tore all of it out from under him.”

“Artemis probably under-estimated Calix’s ability to process what reality meant,” Dervish said softly. “Or maybe he over-estimated Cal’s ability to process the truth.”

“My gut tells me processing the truth is what led to all of this,” Octavia replied hotly. “Cal bases everything on ‘the truth’. I believe it’s why he’s so good at – at – everything! I think it’s why he can fight like he does and why he can take apart a thermal coupling and make a fusion reactor out of paper clips and chewing gum. My best guess is it’s his moral compass, the ground on which he walks. Getting extracted, pulled out of his ‘normal’ life, shook the whole thing to the core. Then, the stupid AI yanked ‘the truth’ out from under him and he had nowhere left to go. Like I said, I found him outside my door yesterday morning, passed out in the fetal position. The AI woke me up to let me know something had happened. We got him to a med-tube but – there was nothing physically wrong with him. He’s sedated now. DECO is going to have someone with a psychological background talk to him.”

Dervish paused for a moment, thinking things through. “Maybe we all over-estimated him.”

He brought his hands up to stave off Octavia’s angry retort. “Look, Oh. We all seem to forget that buried underneath the fighter, inventor and thief we all know and love is a fairly young teen. He acts older so we’ve treated him like he was older – but he isn’t. It’s a shell with him. It’s psychological armor. He’s been hurt by his father, his mother, his stepmother ... hell, he’s lost everyone he’s cared about. He keeps it all bottled up inside, deep inside, and never lets it see the light of day. It’s no wonder he’s having a crisis when he finds out the universe isn’t as simple as he thought it was.”

“It’s not that,” the blonde woman remarked defensively. She paused before continuing, letting out a long sigh. “Okay, maybe that’s part of it. It’s worse, though. We’ve taken away him. The extraction took him out of his world. Then, when the AI told him he couldn’t trust his own senses – which were the only things he felt he could completely trust – he was left with nothing. We’ve taken away his sense of self. We’ve ripped it out of him.”

“I agree,” he replied seriously. “We have. It was going to happen eventually, though. Even if we left him down there, eventually he was going to have to learn what he considers real isn’t. In a few years, the Sa’arm will hit Earth – it’s almost a certainty now. At least by then, he was going to have to re-define himself. All we’ve done is moved up the timetable.”

“We’ve done more than that,” Octavia shook her head dolefully. “We’ve done it suddenly. We’ve done it traumatically. We can’t know what’s going to come out of it. We can’t know if he’s going to be the same person when he makes it out the other side.”

“Yes, we do,” Dervish chuckled. “Now you’re under-estimating him. Even if he has had a mental breakdown, I can honestly say the boy is stronger and tougher mentally than anyone I’ve ever seen or heard of. Will he be the same person after all the dust settles? Hell, no. The person he was would never have made it out here anyway. Neither would the Dervish who first shipped out nor the Octavia who got picked up. Like us, he’ll evolve. He’ll change. It’ll be gradual and bumpy, but he’ll adapt. Hell, he’s already adapting. Did you see how he handled the extraction of – uh...” His voice trailed off as he picked up the pad from the disk. He tapped and swiped the screen until he found what he was looking for. “Dylan Cole’s extraction? Heather’s kid?”

“The pregnant brunette?” Octavia shrugged and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I haven’t looked up any of the extraction reports yet.”

“Well, you should,” he remarked, looking Octavia in the eye. “He used – get this – negotiation. That’s something I didn’t think I’d ever say about Calix. Heather’s husband had a gun and was refusing to release Dylan. Instead of going ballistic, Calix talked him down. You heard me right: Calix talked the guy into giving up his son. I had to watch the vid twice before I believed it.”

“So, you see,” he continued. “He’s already changing, Oh. Do you think the street kid we first saw at the GlobalTech extraction would ever talk someone down? Strike them down, maybe – but talk them down? I figured that wouldn’t come until sometime when he was in his twenties. Maybe thirties. Calix can be – unyielding is a good word. It sounds so much better than intractable.”