"That's why you're here?"
He nodded. "I was turned down time and again for the training program because I was too anxious to get to the front line. They knew I wanted to get my revenge on the aliens. They wouldn't take me because they said I was reckless, that I might endanger others; I suppose I deserved that, though. After my mother and sister died, I was much less willing to sit around planning my future. When I realized I could die anytime, no matter what I'd left unresolved or undone, I don't know—taking a risk wasn't so scary anymore."
"And you kept going, despite the setbacks."
"What does giving up ever accomplish?”
“Nothing. But obsession is usually a selfish pursuit.”
“Selfish? My sister Lara would disagree.” He laughed. “She thinks obsessions are tragically noble.”
“Noble? Well now, aren’t you being modest!” Erin teased.
“On the contrary, I never said I agreed with her.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I’m not certain I can think my situation through rationally, since I’m the one living it. Still, I haven’t got that many underlying selfish motives and nothing to gain by appearances. I just want to right an old wrong and settle a debt for my family. Romanticism doesn’t mean much to me. Romantic notions of nobility aren’t worth much either.”
“I suppose, though, that your sister has a point. Obsession could be tragically noble, if others find the obsessed person worth lamenting.” Erin smiled at him slyly. “But even then, a man’s obsession has got to be something he didn’t ask for or ever expect, in other words.”
He smiled affectionately. “So, Erin, what were we talking about?”
“You weren’t going to give up on becoming a pilot.”
“Ah—yes.”
“So, what were you doing before you joined the pilots’ program?”
“I was training in another field—actually, I just finished my specialization when they finally accepted me in the pilot training program. I was about to take up an internship in the Biochemical Analysis Department at the UE—well, I suppose the ‘where’ isn’t important anymore.”
“I’m sure you could have done a lot of good where you were, too.” Erin said. “The Biochemical Analysis Division is doing a lot to help us fight this war.”
Scott shrugged. "I know that. But it’s the duty of everyone on Earth who has the heart to fight to protect our planet, isn't it? And I can't sit idly by talking about beans until I've made sure that what happened to my family won't happen to anyone else."
"I don't like that word." Erin said quietly.
"What—duty?" Scott said, remembering how she had flinched when he said it.
"Duty—or obligation, whatever you call it." Erin nodded. "Just don't make it sound as though we had another choice." She added.
"Don't we though?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "Some people aren't fighting. The cowards." Didn't she understand duty and honor? If she resented her duty, how could she understand honor? he wondered.
"In my opinion, duty is a terrible thing, even if you choose to fight." Erin said, meeting his gaze with her own, unflinching eyes. "'Someone has to' if we want to survive. Duty is just self-preservation. We have a horrible habit of clouding it with smoke of honor and glory to entice people in, and threats of shame to keep them enlisting. How noble is that? Where's the choice? Some people who refuse to fight are noble, not cowards. Standing on principle because they are not the kind of people who can fight, and maybe they'll die without resistance, but at least with their honor in tact."
"Interesting way of looking at it—and true, in some respects," he admitted. "I guess you are rather opinionated for your age." He laughed, making a joke to hide the fact that he was really laughing at himself.
"Age has nothing to do with it." Erin said, shrugging. "Except maybe that people are easier to control when they're young. All this talk of duty has us all rushing to get ourselves killed. We're too young to be afraid. Each one of us still thinks he'll be the one to survive, somehow—"
"I understand your point, but—"
"You're training for revenge." She interrupted. "So you know exactly what you're getting yourself into."
"I suppose so.” He agreed, getting tired of the argument.
They sat in silence a short while, finishing their lunch, watching each other and coming to private conclusions.
“It’s been really nice talking to you, kid.” Scott said after a while, hesitating. “Tell me, what’s it like to have a mother?" He asked suddenly.
Erin looked at him, taken by surprise.
"I hardly remember my mother." He explained, trying to sound non-committal, but it was too late. The subject was like a raw wound he'd been hiding, now left in the open air. "As I said—she was killed in an explosion during the attack on Central City."
"Well, at least you knew her for a time." Erin said quietly, almost consolingly, but she was too young to understand how to console others, or so he thought. So, there was something else hidden in those words, but what?
"What do you mean?" He asked tentatively; her eyes flickered with the vulnerability of exposure. "Are you saying you don't know yours?" he suggested.
"In a way." She admitted. "You reminded me that I never knew my natural mother. She was also killed—in an explosion, you might say."
"You—you're adopted?" he guessed.
"Yes."
"I never even thought—and your sister?" he asked.
"She isn't adopted, if that's what you're implying." She said, shaking her head.
"Come to think of it, you don't look much like the rest of your family—though I can see how people might think you look like Captain Blair. So, what's it like, being adopted?" It was a lame question, he realized after he'd asked it. Probably no different from being born into a family, he chastised himself.
"Well, for one thing, I don’t feel much different." She answered after a long pause, as though this was the first time she'd actually thought about it. "You tell yourself that genes don't matter, because love is enough, that that's what a family is about. And Moira—my sister—Moira and I are like two halves of a whole. I miss her so much all the time."
He nodded.
The intercom sounded, interrupting them. "Erin Mathieson-Blair, to the waiting room. First call." Erin shrugged and picked up her tray.
"I have to go."
"Hey, Erin," he said, stopping her.
"Yes?"
"You looked like you knew where you were going the whole time," he said.
"Huh?"
"Earlier. When I asked if you were lost. You looked like you knew where you were going. I thought so, but I had to find out. And I’m glad I did. You’re quite a girl." He added. “I’m sorry you’ve got to go so soon.”
"Me, too. I—I hope I see you again," Erin said, rising from the chair. "And thanks for the compliment."
"Maybe we'll meet again next year, at the level four exam," he suggested. "I intend to be there, and I'd be disappointed if you don't make it," he said, with a trace of real sincerity.
"I will. Count on it." Erin promised. For some reason, neither of them saw a point in exchanging addresses or communication frequencies. As if realizing there was no time for conversations and unnecessary ties during the upcoming year. Distractions as compelling as this relationship felt dangerous, somehow.
"Until then." Scott watched her leave, sighed, and drank his last swallow of tea.
* * * * *
The strangest thing was that neither Scott Dimitriev nor Erin Mathieson ever expected to run into each other again, or so soon as the very next day.
“Miss serious, where did you come from?” Scott said, as Erin hurried past him in the hall. She could have been any one of the three thousand students in the hallways, and both of them were quartered in entirely different areas. For no real re
ason Scott had just decided to take a walk in another area on the other side of the base.
Erin slowed in her tracks, dug in her heels hard, and turned sharply around.
“In a hurry?” he asked slowly, with some amusement. It was indeed Erin Mathieson, and her cheeks were flushed.
“I’m headed to the study halls.” She agreed.
“Forget that and play hooky with me.”
“What?”
“If you don’t know all of the material yet, you’re not going to remember it at all cramming it into your head at the last minute.”
“I do know the material.”
“Then let’s go somewhere.”
“Like where? You don’t know this place any better than I do.”
“Well, there is a botanical garden near the west gate.”
“And what exactly would we do in the botanical garden?” she pursed her lips; though only fourteen, she already had some inkling that she was supposed to avoid situations like this.
“Nothing.” He laughed, judging her hesitation. “You’re too young for any guy to want to kiss you, so don’t worry. We’ll just hang out and look at the scenery, and if you want, I’ll even race you to the top of the water tower.”
“Now how can I pass that up when I could be studying of all things?” Erin laughed, suddenly skipping over to take his hand.
Scott watched her and was again strangely struck by the fact that she talked more like someone his own age than a kid, and looked older than she really was, too. Imagine, he thought, that we ran into each other again. It was odd but exhilarating. Especially that she had her little hand laced through his arm and holding on to his forearm.
They spent the afternoon in the botanical gardens talking about idle things, playing silly childish games, and terrorizing the birds and the squirrels. And then they went for dinner together, sat and talked until the wee hours of the morning in the recreation center, and fell asleep together like languorous lions on one of the lounge panels. In the morning, they parted company to take their written exams, though Scott’s wasn’t supposed to be until late afternoon.
And they met up again as planned this time, just after Scott’s exam and not an hour before Erin’s transport was scheduled to leave.
“So, you’re going home today, too?” Erin asked, feeling a strange stone weight in her gut at the thought of leaving the base, where she had met him and had more fun than she ever remembered.
“Uh-huh.” Scott responded in the same hollow tone.
The past two days seemed like a dream that had to come to an end; ordinarily Erin mentally sped up such things in her life. But for this particular dream she wanted desperately to make a stand. She didn’t want it to end, and felt the worst kind of reluctance to let it happen.
“I guess your sister will be looking for you.” Erin said, at a loss for words.
“Maybe, I don’t know.” He shrugged, and didn’t move from the spot. They were both silent a moment.
“Well, you really had better make it to the exams next year.” Erin said, trying hard to sound optimistic and cheerful. “I would hate to miss you—” she left the sentence there. Both of them had already sensed the double meaning of the sentence.
“So, good-bye, then, miss serious. I guess I’ll see you then.” Scott said, and would have done nothing more, but Erin took a step forward, reached out, and hugged him to her tightly. He felt his body go stiff as a board as her slender arms wrapped around him and pulled his chest lose to hers; he despised farewells.
And at the moment, he was strangely afraid to touch her; her back under his fingertips was firm and comforting. Her hair was soft against the side of his cheek, and it smelled like some kind of flower. He was afraid if he touched her, he wouldn’t want to let go. And that would be foolish.
She was only fourteen years old, and they had only palled around together for a couple of afternoons, he reminded himself. Could forever be wrapped up in an afternoon? Could a person really change in a day? He found himself wondering strange things as she held him tightly. There’s a rare kind of strength in her, he thought suddenly, mentally comparing her to Lara.
“Good-bye, then, Scott.” Erin said, suddenly letting him go and thinking of leaving quickly before she betrayed any emotion to him. She smiled as though nothing in all the world was wrong as she turned and left him standing in the hallway, watching her disappear in the crowd.
Oh no. Scott, you are absolutely crazy for this girl. It occurred to him a few moments later. And it’s a good bet you’ll never see her again.
And so he told himself to pull himself together and to try to forget her.
It was a very long time before he realized that he never would.
Chapter Eighteen
Erin wasn’t sleeping. Colleen had awoken again, this time at 4:15, to Erin’s noisy banging in the dining room.
“You know it isn’t good for you to be up so early,” Colleen, her roommate, said one morning. Colleen found it increasingly difficult not to broach the subject of Erin’s insomnia, not now that she knew about it.
“You have to get a decent night’s sleep one of these days, and not keep waking me up so early!” Colleen said.
“I know.”
“Have you talked to Dr. Cameron about it?”
“No.”
“He could help you.”
“I know, but I don’t want to tell him.” Erin said, sounding sorry to be so severe. Then, Erin shivered; Colleen might have regarded her skeptically, if she had not seen the accompanying expression of terror in her friend’s eyes.
“What’s up, really, now? You used to sleep all the time and I couldn’t get your ass out of bed in the morning.”
"Yes, but that was before all this."
“All what?”
“The ghost I hear when I’m asleep.”
Colleen laughed hard, in relief. Erin still looked grave.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” Nonetheless, Colleen didn't believe this odd assertion, not really, not until two days after Erin was released from the medical wing following Cameron's exam.
* * * * *
That night after Erin returned from her yearly medical exam, Colleen awoke to violent hands shaking her.
With a start, she realized that her assailant was Erin, her fingers gripping Colleen's arms like steel vices, cold and unimaginably strong.
"Where is it?!" Erin cried. At the same time, Erin stared about with wild, expressionless, vacant, eyes, oblivious to the inexplicable tears streaming down her own salty-stiff cheeks.
“Erin, let go!” Colleen screamed.
Colleen struggled to release herself from Erin’s grasp, but there was no use in it. She knew instinctively that this was no childish game, even had Erin’s nature been given to milder forms of playful deception. Colleen was desperately afraid. This was not the Erin she knew. The Erin she knew would have recognized her and never harmed her. The Erin she knew was not behind the strange, unflinching alien eyes that stared at her—eyes that stared without recognition of anything in the world around them.
Yet somehow Erin hadn't harmed her. After some time, Colleen realized that Erin wasn't as much shaking her as she was holding on to her, as though pleading with some invisible force she imagined in Colleen’s place.
Then suddenly, Erin let go. Colleen watched as her friend brought shaking hands up to cover her ears, as Erin’s head thrashed left to right as though in stark refusal of some sudden, unbearable realization.
Then all at once, she sank to her knees at the side of Colleen's sleeping panel.
"Leave me alone!" she cried in torment, "let me live—" her voice begged. "I don't have it! I don't even know what it is you want—"
She stilled. Colleen heard desperate sobs as Erin returned to the world around them, then nothing for some time. Mistrusting the sil
ence, Colleen reached down to prod her, then drew back.
Erin's skin felt like ice-cold stone.
* * * * *
"Where am I?" Erin asked, looking around at nothing but formless mist, then down at her feet. She was looking inward, into her own mind. The mist gave way under her, and she saw that she stood on a flat metallic surface, her own reflection peering up at her from the waters of a contained reservoir before her—but all of this was impossible! Where was she and what was all this? The girl's face she beheld in the water was gray. Erin staggered back in horror, refusing to believe what she had seen.
That isn't me, she cried inwardly, terrified. What was going on here?
And who are you? an inner voice asked her, the same voice that had brought comfort and doubt, security and fear throughout her life.
"I'm Er—Erin..." she began, but some instinctive feeling stopped her from answering with confidence as she had intended and strangled her words.
Suddenly, she stood on earth again. She felt the change at her feet and ventured a glance down, and the moist, rocky ground comforted her, the metallic environment she had seen now vanished. She kicked a random pebble with her toe and watched it skid to the edge of a giant pool, its smooth purplish surface sinking beneath the water, sending a current towards the shore that drowned the tossing reeds. Supple young tree branches like birches around her rocked up and down asynchronously, lambasted by the force of the fervid winds, creating a disturbing song that sounded like ocean waves, their silver-golden canopy filtering the intense light.
Despite the heartbreaking beauty of the scene, Erin felt a slow creeping anxiety she was at a loss to explain.
And who are you? the inner voice repeated. Who is Erin Mathieson-Blair?
Slow, heavy steps sounded behind her, drawing closer, getting louder.
What do you fear, Selerael? the inner voice asked, now coming towards her in the form of a shadowy figure she feared almost as strongly as Death himself. Yourself? You are not alive. You are a creature of Time itself. One of the immortals.
"Leave me alone!" Erin screamed in panic. A strong gust of wind caught the vivid green-covered branches and made them dance like the strings of a marionette. "Let me live—" as Erin Mathieson-Blair, she finished inwardly when her voice failed her.