Episode 8 - Symbiosis

  Chapter 68 - Fair-Weather and Wind

  Pooka stamps his hind foot impatiently as I secure the ribboned harness around his wide black back - a challenge with one hand still in bandages. His elegant head nods aggressively up and down, ears flat against his skull as he communicates his displeasure in every way that he can except for freezing the stable. I give his hide a playful flick with one finger on my good hand after I secure the final buckle under his belly. You’ll need to get used to this.

  This is a humiliation. I am not to be burdened with human rot and metal.

  They think you are an Equus… so like an Equus you will have to act. That means tying enough ribbon to you that people can avoid you on the street. You might have to pull something.

  I would rather destroy us both.

  I consider the threat as I run my hand across his hide. His skin trembles beneath my touch. Pooka is a matte carbon-black, just as he is in any other form. The matte color should seem dirty, like graphite dust or charcoal rods; instead, it lends him a foreboding elegance. Light does not gleam off his muscles. It's almost as if he absorbs it just as he can other energies.

  Slowly I run my fingers along the line of the harness to the ridge of his shoulders, stopping on the neck. He continues to nod vigorously as he continues his tantrum.

  Maybe. If it seems like they will cull us first.

  He pauses and turns his neck to regard me with one glowing red eye. His thick lips have a few whiskers off the bottom of his chin, which twitch as he clicks his teeth together. His dish-like nostrils draw back as he snuffs my scent.

  Spring is not the season of the wilt. We shall unfold as bright terror and black blossoms.

  His anger simmers, but it finds no purchase on the cold I have felt since Nessa’s loss. I feel broken. I feel disconnected from everything, like I've been cast adrift to float with no tether. It might be good to go away for a while. I can’t stand looking down my hallway to Nessa’s old room. I had to clean all her stuff out of our shared bathroom when I was packing, and it just felt so wrong to sort everything for recycling. Places are too empty. I don’t want to be in them. I can’t imagine what Blake feels.

  I feel regret. I wish I never tried to save that woman over and over again. She was a stranger. She was no one. She had so many resources, she would have had another attempt at it if she really wanted it. She asked for nothing.

  I don’t know if she was worth the life of my only friend…

  I feel too numb for tears as I smooth a few of Pooka’s mane hairs down his forehead, tucking a couple behind his ear. He is solid as real matter under my touch; no part of him dissipates from me.

  I rub my nose with the heel of my bandaged hand. The burns are peeling now. It’ll need to be kept clean at least another few days until the sensitive new skin regrows. At my feet is the one bag of belongings I’ve packed. A few pairs of underwear, sanitary items, a couple of changes of clothes and a curated selection of my pencils and some paper I’d cut in half or folded to keep things compact. Heavy in my pocket is the stolen lighter. I don’t know why I brought it. I like the way it feels in my pocket, and the satisfying click of the lid when I play with it with my thumb.

  With a sigh, I lift my bag and grab the lead-rein of the harness, leading Pooka out onto the street under the open roller doors. He stamps his hoof with every step, echoing loudly off the concrete floor and around the other vehicles down here.

  A man is already waiting. He’s of moderate height, only a little taller than me, with a sort of ropey physique and a clean-shaven square chin. His uniform is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, a bright blue tailcoat with smart black buttons, and a jaunty cap with a rim that shades his face. On his belt is an odd charm, with two beads - one red and one blue.

  He tips the edge of his cap up and whistles as I approach. “Big one then!” he says. “What use would Aquila have for an Equus that size?”

  “That’s classified,” I mutter. “Who are you?”

  “Settle down,” he makes a dismissive gesture with his hands. “I’ll not pry where it’s not wanted then. I’m Bosun Wesley Parsons, you can call me Bosun Wez or Bosun, but never Wez. You can consider me something a bit like HR, but I give more orders and expect them to be followed.”

  I give him a look up and down, and he catches my eye with a smirk. “My orders keep you safe and keep the fleet moving. You follow orders, or people die. I think you might know something about that, hmm. Yes, I’ve had a chat with your management; we’re getting you on loan for cheap after all.”

  I chew ?my lip, looking away. “You didn’t even know her.”

  “No. And I don’t really care to know whatever got you in trouble as long as it won’t affect your work here. Aster said you can be challenging. I’m not interested in a challenge. Learn quickly, and we’ll get along. Conrada, right? With luck, we’ll have you trained up as a scout right smart-like.”

  I nod. I don’t feel like correcting him to my preferred nickname. His tone is clipped and cold, it surprisingly doesn’t irk me as much the words might from someone else. I feel too tired to fight, anyway. “What happened to your last one?”

  “She got eaten.”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  I blink at the man, who doesn’t seem like he wants to elaborate on that answer.

  “Where are we going then?” I ask halfheartedly, watching Pooka chew on the rein.

  “On foot, it’ll be a bit of a walk, but you’re gonna have to get used to using your feet. You bubblers take a bit to grow proper skins.” I sniff dismissively at this comment. Bubbler is not a slang term I’ve heard before, I’m not sure how insulted I should be by it. “We've got one more joining us though…”

  Pooka’s ear turns behind me, and I turn just as Wesley whistles again. “You’re late, Pup!”

  Unexpectedly, Rhett is frozen in place, eyes darting between us with a bag of his own slung over one shoulder and Pell hanging from the other. His open mouth quickly shuts and transitions into a deeply cautious scowl. He’s clean shaven, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him clean-shaven.

  “They didn’t tell me you were picking me up…” he mutters.

  “Captain Rattakul and Captain Moreau have been collaborating. I’m picking you up for her. No one tell you this when you decided to slink back with your tail between your legs?”

  “I’m not slinking.”

  “Looks like slinking to me. You fuck up again? Pup-pup.”

  “Fuck off. I don’t report to you.”

  “‘Fuck off, Bosun.’ I got promoted.”

  “You work for Rattakul as well now?”

  “No, still your dad.”

  “Then ‘fuck off’ is plenty fine.”

  “I’m sure he’d love to hear you’ve been insubordinately mouthing off to his men?”

  Rhett sighs. “Whatever. Do whatever you want, Wesley.”

  “I will. Especially to those too cowardly for anything but fair-weather. Winds changed again, eh, shorty?”

  Rhett’s face blanches. Pell tucks her legs a little closer, ducking down into his throat and almost slinking into the collar of his shirt like she wants to hide.

  “It was my fault,” I say quietly.

  Wesley starts, looking down his nose at me. “What’s that? Speak up, Scout? You gonna defend the Pup. That’s a decision… he ever tell you what he did?”

  “I didn’t say anything. I’m not defending anyone.”

  Wesley plants both hands on his hips and laughs. “Uh, huh. You a fuck up too, eh? We’ll crack you into shape, don’t worry about it. No fixing some people though, some stains don’t wash out.”

  Rhett won’t meet my eyes, dropping his bag and bending to fuss with it rather than face us both. I haven’t seen him since… Well, I haven’t seen him. He seems even more worn down than I feel, his shoulders slumped and hair braided into a single plait with so many flyaways I think he’s slept in it for days without re-doing it. He’s not even wearing his corporate armor or suit, just some scrappy gym clothes.

  “What is going on? Why are you here?” I ask tentatively.

  “I didn’t-”

  Wesley cuts us both off. “Captain Rattakul and Captain Moreau go way back. Little Pup couldn’t stand growing in the shadow of his dad or his bitch mother, so used to be one of Captain Rattakul’s crew. You,” he points to me, “are working for Captain Moreau, so Captain Rattakul’s decisions are not really any of your business, but she did ask me for a favor to pick up the Pup while we grabbed you. I said ‘yes’ because it deeply amuses me to see someone I hate crawling through the mud with the rest of us, eh, Pup-pup?”

  Rhett doesn’t lift his eyes, ignoring the continued digs. He finishes whatever he was fussing with and stands, slinging his bag over one shoulder.

  Rhett used to work with these companies…? Even my numbness cannot blanket the wave of realization that spreads across my mind and down my veins like the warming rush of a shot of alcohol. We’re going beyond the dome! These are the black market crews that he used to run with! Pooka’s ears lift with curiosity.

  “You’re black market runners!” I say.

  “Captain Rattakul is. Captain Moreau prefers scavenging. But the work overlaps enough we collaborate on the regular. You ever gone outside the dome, bubbler?” asks Wesley, attention back on me and a grin spreading across his face as he sees my expression.

  “No.” I’ve dreamt of it. Pooka’s memories haunt my subconscious. Every time he flies above Apex city, having to turn as he reaches the edge of the dome to take another lap, I feel him yearn a little harder for the open sky. We’re going beyond the dome!

  A stab of guilt cuts my elation short. It seems a cruel irony that this would be my punishment for Nessa. But beyond the dome… the dissonance of my feelings is wretched. I swallow, almost feeling nauseous that I can think of being anything that even resembles excited right now. I feel foul, I am foul, full again of that yellow liquid that has drained from my blisters. I never deserved Nessa, I’m a terrible person. No wonder I fail people so often when I selfishly choose my own impulses again and again.

  Maybe I’d be better off as the weapon Regina wants me to be. If I wasn’t human, maybe I wouldn’t hate myself so much right now. At least then I wouldn’t have to reconcile my feelings.

  “You got a lot to learn!” interrupts Wesley cheerfully. “C’mon then. We’ll need to make a move if we’re going to meet up with everyone before it gets dark. You too, Pup, Captain Rattakul will have my hide if I don’t at least deliver you alive.”

  Pooka pulls on his rein as we walk across the city, his disgust with the reflective safety ribbons hanging from his sides forgotten now for his unashamed curiosity. I clamp down our connection, desperate to not let too much of him spill across to me. It only makes my stomach turn tighter and tighter with guilt.

  Rhett walks behind us and doesn’t make any conversation. When I look back over my shoulder, he has his eyes on the ground, Pell wrapped around the side of his head with several of her legs stretched across his face. My lip trembles, and I turn back straight again. I’m glad he’s not in the mood to speak. We’ve not spoken. I don't know what I’d say to him.

  It was my fault. I talked him into it. Knowing him, he blames himself though. He should blame me. I’m a dirty, wretched person who can’t even mourn my friends properly.

  We pass a woman on the street watching the front doors of Aquila with a look that I cannot ignore. Her head is shaven, her eyes wet and arms wrapped around her sides. She hovers on the street, looking back towards the building I am leaving. I don’t let myself think about who she might be.