Living in Syn (29 page)

Mission's
mixed feelings collided with dramatic impact in the pit of his stomach.  The
clear winner was the sense of being an outsider.  In the past, he had noticed
policemen hired off duty to handle security for fancy uptown parties.  They
stood with their arms crossed, emotionless.  The partygoers refused to even
look at the cops, much less acknowledge them as fellow humans.  The message was
clear.  They were a necessary evil and nothing more.  Mission felt exactly that
way.

At the
same time, he felt delight.  No matter how hard adults tried, they couldn't
completely pervert the sense of joy and innocence radiated by children. 
Watching the kids, Susan’s nieces and nephews, squealing with delight, romping
through the room, playing their games infused him with a pleasure he forgot
existed.

The
seven year old girl ... Sherrie approached him and said, "Happy Holidays…
Uncle ... Mission."  She tilted her head and said, "What's your first
name?"

Mission
smiled and said, "I don't have one."

"Didn't
your parents give you a first name?"

"Yes,
but I gave it back.  You just call me Uncle Mission, okay?"

She
smiled and said, "I’ve been playing the piano today.  I love it."

"Well
great.  Maybe you'll be a musician someday."

"Maybe. 
Dad says I must be a lawyer ... What do you do?"

"Well,
actually ... "

Susan's
father, Hugh boomed across the room.  "Yes Mission, what is your
occupation?"

All the
activity stopped and Susan suddenly looked concerned.  Mission said,
"Well, I’m unemployed at the moment."

Hugh
wasn't satisfied.  What father would be?  "Well, what did you do?"

Mission
took a breath. What the hell. "Bounty hunter. I tracked down renegade
synthetics for the reward money."  Mission looked at the expression on
Hugh and decided that at this moment, he couldn't pull a pin out of his ass
with a tractor.  Then he looked at Susan's mother Monica. She seemed even less
happy, if that was possible.  Yes, he was the hit of the party.

Susan's
brother Alan said, "Well it's smart you got out.  You can't last more than
a year or two in a job like that."

"I
did it for fourteen years."

Alan's
wife Linda physically corralled her children with her arms as if to shield them
from his influence.  Monica said, "Dinner will be ready in fifteen
minutes."

Mission
sat alone on the couch feeling sorry for himself.  If not for Susan, he
wouldn't have a life at all.  General Snowden and the whole damned Army went
crazy once they heard the trip report, and started preparations for an
invasion.  With that decision driving the entire process, Paradox jumped all
over Mission, trashing his performance and making a cash settlement with him
that fell short of generous.  Pioneer even served him with notice of a civil
suit, alleging his negligence caused Denman's death.  And now, to have Susan's
family welcome him so unconditionally...

His mind
drifted back and he didn't see images nor hear the voices.  The first thing he
felt was a terrible hunger.  Scared, and weak, and unsure.  So he waited.  The
memory came into focus and he saw the kids playing in the street and saw that
syn walk past.  He followed him but not because he would do anything.  The fear
paralyzed him.  But there was nothing else to do.  He walked blocks and blocks
and blocks until the only thought flashing in his head was the horrible
hunger.  Finally, he realized that he fingered the screwdriver in his pocket. 
Another thought elbowed its way into his mind.  If you don't do this, you will
die here and now.  With a scream from some unknown place inside him, he
attacked, jabbing the screwdriver in the syn again and again.  The electricity
burned the top layers of skin off his hands.  The syn clawed the shirt and then
the skin off his back.  He lay sobbing on the street with his arm around the
synthetic's neck, refusing to let go.  He looked up to see an older guy bending
over him saying, "Kid.  Hey kid.  You're okay.  I don’t believe it. You
took him down by yourself. I'm Miller.  I'll show you how to collect the bounty
on this gearbox."

Mission
shuddered.  Why did that memory pop into his mind?  Because he worried that he
again approached a point of desperation in his life.  Monica called, "Dinner’s
ready. Everyone come to the table."

Hallmark
could use the dining room for greeting cards.  The beautiful table and good
silver and china with lace table cloths.  The turkey weighed more than twenty
pounds.  It reminded him of his mother's kitchen.

Halfway
through the meal, Susan's sister looked over at Mission and said, "So, you
carry a gun and hunt down those robots in the Free Zone?"

Mission
stopped in mid-bite and Susan tried to rescue him.  "Clarisse, this is holiday
dinner.  This isn't the time to ... "

Hugh
interrupted her saying, "No, no, no.  I think we're all interested in
knowing more about Mission."

Slowly
Mission put his fork down and said, "Yeah. I find them and then I take
them down."

Alan
said, "You make it sound so simple.  Why do more than 90% of recovery
attempts end in death or serious injury?"

"Renegade
synthetics know what happens during recovery. They’ll fight before submitting. 
They’re three to six times stronger than humans and incredibly intelligent and
agile.  This is not an enterprise for beer drinking buddies to try once deer
hunting season ends."

Linda
asked, "And did the scar on your jaw come from a synthetic?"

Mission
nodded.  "Yeah, I was lucky."

Alan eyed
the scar and laughed.  "You call that lucky?"

"Another
inch, it would have torn my head off."

Monica
threw her silverware onto her plate and said, "I have had quite enough. 
This is holiday dinner, not some barroom and I'll not have this kind of talk
here."

Mission
said, "I agree completely.  Alan, Susan tells me you’re a Professor of
Philosophy."

Alan
nodded.  "That's right."

"Do
you specialize in any time period or particular philosopher?" 

"Nothing
you would recognize, I'm afraid.  Mostly 19th and 20th century
philosophers."

Mission
smiled politely.  "It sounds very interesting."

"Well,
let's just say it challenges the intellect."

After
dinner, Hugh motioned to Mission and said, "Why don't we have a
talk?"

They
moved to a small study and closed the doors behind him.  Hugh stared very hard
at Mission.  "This all came about quite suddenly, didn't it? You two."

"Susan
and I have known each other for years."

"Really? 
Tell me, how many times did you go out?"

Mission
grimaced.  "Look, I understand you being protective of your daughter. 
You're probably taking great pains to be nice to me.  And I'm trying to be nice
too. But the details of our relationship are personal.  And if anyone tells
you, it should be Susan, not me."

Hugh's
face turned purple.  "Why you smartass.  My daughter calls one day and
tells us she has to travel to Triton in two weeks.  No mention of you at all. 
And when she gets home, she's living with a man without a job, or an
education.  Who up till now has made his living moving through the scum of the
Earth down there in the Zone, attacking synthetics with lethal weapons he
carries as a matter of habit.  Now you tell me what I should be asking."

"Fine. 
First of all, I am a smartass.  Get used to it.  Second, you're talking to the
wrong person.  If I had a daughter in similar circumstances, I'd ask her if she
loved him.  If she was happy.  You haven't mentioned love once.  So I take it
your priorities in a marriage are a good job and a good education with love not
even getting an honorable mention.  And under those criteria, I'll never
satisfy you.  So let's decide that we'll tolerate each other's existence for
Susan's sake and be done with it."

Hugh
shook with anger and he stabbed his index finger toward the living room.  He
screamed, "Get out!  Get out of my house!"

As
Mission came out the study door, Susan already held their coats and made for
the door.  He kissed Monica on the cheek and said, "Thanks for having us
over.  I think he's really warming up to me."

As he
moved toward the door, Monica wiped the kiss off.  Hugh glowered at him and as
Susan physically pulled him out the door, he yelled, "Let's do this again
real soon."

That
evening, Susan found Mission on the couch poring over his notes with a bottle
of Jose in his hand.  Not even a glass.  Susan sighed and said, "Mission,
how long can you keep going this way?"

He
looked up and said, "How long will it take for me to get to the bottom of
this combat model factory?"

She sat
down beside him.  "What are you looking at tonight?"

"I'm
back up to the meeting at Paradox where Tanya Ricci plowed the office with my
face."

"And
what do you think?"

"I
think it doesn't make any sense.  Tanya sat in the VP's chair for almost two
years, handling emergencies, thinking on her feet, fighting fires.  Even if the
MPs do make an arrest, she knew her attorney could spring her in an hour.  So
why does she lose her cool and take a hostage?  Why does she think Snowden has
enough to implicate her?  She works in Sales.  She would be all too familiar
with the art of bluffing."

Now
Susan looked interested.  "You make a pretty strong case.  Why do you
think she reacted the way she did?"

"I
haven't a clue.  All I can do is rack my brains for scenarios that fit the
facts.  The only one I have so far is that Tanya believed someone in that room
knew her secret and that they would talk." 

Susan
shook her head.  "You'd better keep moving."

"Yeah,
I know it's not the most plausible explanation.  I'll keep digging for another
couple of days."

"And
if you can't do better?"

"Then
I'll run with it.  I'll put the history of every person in that room under a
microscope until I find something or go crazy."

Susan
stared at him.  "I'm sorry about the family dinner."

"Sorry
about what?  It's the best dinner I've had in years."

"Well,
my family didn't exactly welcome you in."

"I
didn't expect they would."

"And
why is that?"

"I
remember your first reaction to me.  I didn't thrill you.  I expected your
family's reactions and values to be about the same.  I'm very different from
them.  They have time to adjust to me.  And if they don't, I'll have a hell of
a lot of fun knowing I irritate them so much."

Susan
smiled.  "You are an unusual man.  One of the reasons I like you.  Now
what about your family?"

"What
about them?"

"Have
you called them to wish them happy holiday?  Have you even told about me?"

"No
and no."

Susan's
exasperation broke through her expression.  "Mission, I'm not looking to
change the world or you, and the world would be easier.  But you’re part of a
family and I think you should, to some extent, act like you’re part of a family.
 Could we get on the vue screen, wish your brother and sister happy holidays,
introduce them to me, and invite them to visit us when they're in town?"

Now
Mission looked exasperated.  "I'd rather drink."

"And
I'd rather hit you.  Learn to compromise."

Mission
instructed the computer to connect a call to his sister.

Five
nights later, Susan found Mission on the couch in exactly the same position,
except the number of empty Jose bottles now numbered in the teens.  His stubble
blossomed into a full-fledged beard, and the circles under his eyes appeared
even blacker in contrast to his unusually pale complexion.  Suddenly Mission
realized Susan called his name several times.

"I'm
sorry.  What did you say?"

"I
said I will call the Med Techs to hospitalize you if you don't eat something
and get some sleep."

"What
time is it?"

"1:00
am."

"Holy
shit!  Computer, call Major Carson Pierce at his home."

Carson
appeared on the screen, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.  He wore pajamas. 
Well, that answered one of the mysteries of life for Mission.  He knew that
someone must wear pajamas.  Up till now, he thought people only bought them
before planned hospital stays.   

"Mission,
do you know what time it is?  For God's sake, I get up at 4:45."

"I'm
sorry Carson.  I need to talk to you.  Can we meet for a drink or something
after work tomorrow?"

"Great. 
Being seen with you is like going to the movies with Stalin."  He looked
at Mission critically.  "You look like hell.  I told Susan to make sure
she didn't leave marks that show.  Let's have dinner at Bay East.  You look
like you need the food.  6:00 and show up sober."

The
screen went blank before Mission could even say thanks.  He took Susan's hand
and said, "I need a shower and some sleep.  Why don't you tell me what
you've been working so hard at?"

Carson
cracked open another crab and dug in.  Mission sipped his iced tea and said,
"As you might imagine, I've been going over and over the details of this
entire situation.  One of the areas I know the least about is the investigative
work you did prior to us teaming up.  Your report is very thorough, but I still
have some questions."

Carson,
through a mouth full of crab and seafood gumbo said, "Fire away."

"You
started the combat model investigation on your own?"

"Well,
in a way, yes.  There were two separate leads that married up.  I carried an assignment
to monitor shipments to New Angeles.  Our way of keeping tabs on the place.  
One day I realized that I had most of the supplies, but nothing on the syns. 
That made me suspicious, and the harder I tried to find them, and the more
difficult the task became, the more I knew something was wrong.  Finally I found
a few syns out of a dummy holding company and they looked too sophisticated for
mining work."

"At
the same time, a tourist in the German States with a com recorded ninety
seconds of a syn attacking and literally ripping a bounty hunter to pieces. 
After researching media accounts of syn violence, I knew it was too different
from anything previous.  I didn't know if there was a connection between New
Angeles and this killer, but I needed to find out."

Mission
nodded.  "And did Snowden give his approval then?  Or he knew about your
activities all along?"

Carson
smiled.  "I file regular reports, but the General usually doesn't bother
with them.  He knows if I'm onto something big, I'll talk to him."

"And
so you talked to him once you connected these two items?"

"Yeah,
he saw the implications, so he told me to keep working it."

"He
didn't give you extra people to work the case?  This sounds like a major
development."

"Well,
I asked, but a Major's priorities are never the same as a General's.  He was
working a major effort in the Asian sector and couldn't spare anyone."

"I
know you can't divulge military secrets, but how is the Asian thing
coming?"

"No
idea.  None of my business. Why?"

“Oh
nothing.  I'm just poking around.  I guess this means the Asian work was very
important."

Mission
looked at him and said, "By the way, would you be up for some strictly
unofficial action in the Free Zone?"

"Jesus,
Mission.  I'm lucky I still have a job as it is after this New Angeles mess. 
I'm a career man."

"That's
the beauty of it.  Nothing's illegal in the Zone.  Don't wear your uniform,
don't take any ID."

Carson
began to smile.  "Say when."

"It's
a few weeks off at best, but I wanted to make sure you would come."

"Just
call me.  But not after 9:30!"