Superego (22 page)

Like I said, I had been making stupid decisions.

CHAPTER 24

I let her pick the restaurant. I'm not sure what you'd call this type of food, but it was a fusion of some Earth cuisine and a human-compatible Corridian cuisine. I didn't know much about it, but it looked like the dishes had lots of cheese and weren't particularly healthy.

As we sat down, I saw her studying me again, but not in the suspicious way like after we first met. I was gaining her trust. It was a silly, fragile thing to possess. In only a couple of days, I would gun down Gredler in front of her, and this masquerade would be over. She'd know what I was, and like any normal person, she would be horrified by me. So it made this dinner with her rather pointless in the long run. But I guess I didn't care anymore.

“You seem like you're searching for something.”

“I do?” My life had always been rather straightforward. I'd get a mission, I'd go do it. I didn't scamper around trying to meet some primitive urge for “fulfillment” like everyone else.

“Well, you say you're traveling the universe. Why, if you're not looking for something?”

“Just to see what's out there. I wouldn't say there are particular answers I'm looking for.”

“So you're just bored?”

It felt like I was being interrogated again, but not out of distrust. She just seemed to want to know who I was. And that was the last thing I wanted her to know. “Boredom is as good a motivator as anything. We need something to hold onto to make life interesting.” I killed people because it was challenging and gave me something to do. I accepted that there was no higher meaning to it. That's what always made me more focused than anyone else.

Her eyes were looking through me again. Now it was getting a little uncomfortable. “If I may be forward, it seems like you're keeping something from me—something important.”

Someone at the table next to us got up. It seemed to be a regular patron, but I knew Morrigan probably had eyes on me. I didn't know what she'd think of this—or if she'd even care—but I suddenly had the odd thought that I could be putting Diane in danger. Odd, because why was that something my mind would concern itself with? “I guess I'm just a man of mystery. Have you told me everything there is to know about yourself?”

She leaned back and grinned. “No. Let's just say I'm a prodigal daughter—if you're familiar with the concept—trying to better herself. But I guess you don't believe in God?”

I shrugged. “I just don't see the evidence of an almighty power. When looked at objectively, the universe is just random and purposeless. Even as society advances, it never really goes anywhere. Things get moved around, but nothing ever gets accomplished to any real end.”

“You sound like Ecclesiastes.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“It's a book in the Old Testament.”

“So what about you? What brought you to religion?” I asked.

She thought briefly. “Fear of hell.”

I smirked. “I always just saw that as some childish threat to try to get bad people to be good.” Didn't work, by the way.

She didn't laugh. “Some people use it that way. Think they can scare people with the possibility of fire and brimstone, but most people don't take that seriously anymore—to them, that's just something from a cartoon. I already knew of hell before I found religion, I just didn't have a name for it. But it wasn't fire. It was a dark, cold abyss. No love. No hope. A place of utter despair I'd be trapped in forever—and that's where I saw myself headed.”

Seemed almost like paranoia to me. “That's where God would cast you?”

“There is no casting. We have our free will—we can choose who we want to be. And I was choosing to go there—I could see how horrible it was, yet I kept moving toward it, because I was convinced there was no other choice.” She paused for a moment and then smiled. “What a nice, light dinner topic, huh?”

“Why waste time sharing unimportant thoughts?”

“Because sometimes every mind needs a rest.” She took a drink of water and then changed the subject. “Well, we know each other's deep philosophical beliefs, but I still feel there is so little I know about you. Like what do you like to do for fun?”

That might have stumped me if I hadn't had to answer that same question recently during my short layover on Ryle. “I like nature—hiking and such. It's also nice to get away from it all. I like learning about animals; so many are known now, and they all have something interesting about them.” I hoped that was good enough to not sound too weird. “So what about you?”

“Well…” She was silent a couple seconds. I guess she hadn't thought of an answer to that question recently. “Wow…I guess I'm a pretty boring person. In my spare time, I have some projects…but they're kind of work-related.”

“Like what?”

“Oh…I don't want to get into it. But…” She thought for another minute. “I play some videogames; I like puzzle ones. I like puzzles.”

“Okay, you've convinced me. You're very boring.” But she wasn't. She was the most fascinating person I'd ever met. I just wished I could figure out why.

She laughed. “I guess so. If it weren't for my church friends, I'd be pretty much a loner.”

“It's hard to imagine a smart, attractive woman like you being alone.”

She was a bit taken aback. “Well…thank you.”

I hadn't meant it as a compliment, just an honest observation. It actually was quite odd that she wasn't married, or didn't at least have a boyfriend. “Really, though, you don't date much?”

“No…I…It's complicated. There are things I have to work out with myself first.”

“Before you can date?”

“I guess.”

“So what's this, then?”

She took another long look at me. “I don't know, Rico. Aren't you eventually leaving to see the universe? Maybe going back to Rikar? I mean, is there any chance you're staying here?”

Me tied to a single planet? That was unimaginable. “No, I guess not.” It was an honest answer; I didn't know why I went with it.

“Well, then I guess this is a friendly dinner between two officers of the law.” She smiled, but she seemed deflated now. I guess she'd had some fantasy that we would end up together, and now that was over. I had gotten women to be infatuated with me before—the mysterious loner—so that I could get them into bed. But this was different. Somehow, I cared a little.

“You could come with me.” I had no idea where those words came from. Now I was the one holding on to a fantasy. And yet I continued. “You even said you were getting tired of your job. Maybe it's time for a change.”

She looked down, away from me. “I can't. I spent too much time already going around the universe in a vain search for who-knows-what. I finally learned that the things that are important in life aren't out there. I'm grounded here, though; I live with purpose. I have my friends…my church…to help remind me what matters. I can't give that up—not for anything.”

I nodded. And I even understood. Her religion gave her purpose, and there's nothing more crucial than that. I had my own purpose—to kill for Nystrom—and the reason I was so focused was that I clung to that purpose. And that was just part of survival for me—when you choose a course of action, you don't question it. It's indecision needling at you that causes disaster. And in life, I had made my choice: I was a hitman. That was my foundation, and the rest of life was so simple because I had that.

But now a little voice in my head said,
But what if you weren't a killer anymore?

Nystrom was changing. Who knew what purpose they'd have for me in the future? And even if things went on as normal for me, was that really the best life I could have? Just the quick thrill of combat and the gaps of preparation in between? Could I be something different?

But then another voice said,
No matter what you are, you can never be with her.

And that was the crux of this little fantasy. I was a remorseless killer whose actions have even horrified other killers. I had no ability to empathize. I could comprehend the feelings and motivations of other people, but I could never share in them. I had long ago accepted this fact, and I was content to be alone. But now…

The thought was interrupted by our waiter bringing our food. I can't remember what it was—some meat covered in melted cheese. “This looks good,” I said, because that's the sort of thing normal people say when they get food at a restaurant. They do it without thinking. Me, I have to concentrate. Did I really think I could be with another person? Could I really keep up the complicated act of being normal without eventually snapping?

“Is something the matter?” Diane asked. She looked concerned. My guess was that look came natural to her and wasn't something she had to fake.

“It's just…um…” I didn't know what I was going to tell her, but apparently my normal act was breaking down.

She reached over and touched my hand. “Rico, if I can help, just tell me.”

Her eyes showed genuine concern for the man she thought I was. And for a moment, I guess I wanted to be that man. I wanted to be the hero she thought I was, not the brutal hitman whose true identity would one day devastate her. It was a ridiculous fantasy, yet it wouldn't go away. “I need to…” My words were lost in her bright blue eyes. Her lip quivered slightly, and my next action was clear. The fantasy won.

I leaned toward her and kissed her, and she kissed me back. The whole time, my rational mind was shouting at my idiocy, but passion overpowered logic for a few seconds.

Eventually the kissed ended, and we were just back to staring at each other. I had no plan for how to proceed from there, and she seemed just as confused as me. I felt I should speak, but I had nothing to say.

And she suddenly stood up. “Um…I have to…I'll be back in one minute.” And she hurried off toward the restroom.

I did not know what to make of that.

Now I was alone with my cheese-covered dish, and my rational mind found its voice again. I had to face facts: I was in love with Diane. At least that seemed to be the word for it—an attraction to her was overtaking me and causing me to act irrationally—and that was love as far as I understood it. Love was just another force trying to make me lose control—to make me question myself. To get me wanting things I cannot have. To break down my neat little life and get me killed.

And the purely rational side of me spoke loudly and clearly on what I would have to do to solve this matter.
You're going to have to kill her.
And the thought shocked me. I couldn't deny its logic, I just didn't
want
to kill her. And that was the problem. Her mere existence was causing me to act irrationally and question matters long settled. But if I killed her, that would be it. I would stop questioning myself, because the matter would be resolved permanently. Simple. Logical. Indisputable.

So my course of action was determined. That should have been a burden off my shoulders, but I stared down at my dish and realized I had no appetite.

“We have an emergency.” Dip used his intense voice. He rarely used it. His algorithm was set to apply it only when there was a likelihood of immediate harm to me.

“What is it?” I should have been worried, but at the moment it was nice to have a distraction.

“I'm suddenly getting word on police channels that they have identified the Nystrom assassin. They are on their way to your location to apprehend you.”

“What? Morrigan should have been on that!” I looked around again for anyone who could be one of Morrigan's people. Would they be of any help?

I realized why Diane may have gotten up and left suddenly. She seemed to stay alert to what was going on with law enforcement, and maybe word had reached her. Maybe she had even called in and told them where I was. It was pointless to focus on that now, but it illustrated how silly my little fantasy with her had been. What was more relevant was that I was unarmed and sitting out in the open. I had to run; there didn't seem to be any other option. And then I'd just have to hope that Morrigan could help get me out of the city later. I so hated having to rely on others.

As soon as I stood up, though, I saw Agent Verg coming through the restaurant, followed by Morrigan. It was too late, so I just stood still and hoped Morrigan had a plan.

“Where's Detective Thompson?” Verg demanded, his odd hum of a voice now sounding more like a low growl.

No guns drawn. No reason to be agitated. “She went to the bathroom.”

Now they drew their guns. And charged right by me. I let myself be confused briefly and then followed.

They stopped outside the restroom. “I'm not familiar with…” Verg started to say, and then Morrigan charged into the women's restroom.

“What's going on?” I asked as I stood outside with Verg.

He held up a picture of a young woman with black hair. “This is a known Nystrom assassin named Melanie Fincher.” It took me a second, but I recognized the face. It was Diane.

Morrigan came out of the bathroom. “The window in there is broken. She must have gotten word we were coming for her and escaped. Alert all local police—let's find her quick.”

And I thought love had confused me.

CHAPTER 25

I looked at a photo of Officer Diane Thompson from before she had transferred to Nar Valdum from the planet Andalu. She was a pretty, young, blonde woman, bright-eyed and ready to take on the world. And she wasn't the woman I had been working with for the past few days.

“I'm not good at telling humans apart.” Agent Verg paced the office he and Morrigan had commandeered at the police station, seeming to be simultaneously talking to me and deep in thought. “Still, a computer verified that this is a different person from the woman who has been a part of this police force for the past ten years.”