“You just want to see your truck,” Tatia said, as the Thrown settled gently on a scorched river bank. “What the hell?”
“Some party,” Kara said. Bots swarmed all over the house and garden making repairs. There’d been a fight. She knew why. Anson Greenaway had gone to the place he felt safest, where he’d fallen in love. Kara hoped he’d taken a few of the assassins with him. She knew he had. There was a nudging at her leg and she looked down to see a Cedric holding a box of tissues.
“I never saw you cry,” Tatia said. “Truth, I didn’t know you could.”
Kara smiled through her tears. “I just feel so damn emotional.”
“You don’t know he’s dead. Or that he was even here. And your truck seems to be okay.”
“Not a truck,” Kara said, teary eyes fixed on the screen. Too bad the Thrown didn’t have a horn, a siren, to announce its arrival. So if anyone, was say, sleeping, they’d wake up and...
< You mean like this?
The sudden pealing of bells was loud enough to penetrate the Thrown’s skin.
> Maybe something a little more military?
< Bells is all there is.
The Thrown settled gently on the scorched Earth.
Two women stood in the open airlock for a moment, comforted by the scent of an English country morning.
Kara started as a tall, familiar figure came out of the house and limped towards them.
“Don’t look now...” Tatia said softly. She held back as Kara walked to meet Anson Greenaway, then decided she also had a claim and followed.
Kara stopped a few feet away and looked carefully at Anson. The right side of his face was burned. He wore black jeans a fraction too small, as were the shirt and pullover, both black, clothes raided from Marc’s wardrobe. He looked tired and a little nervous.
“You came back,” he said, voice almost breaking. “Here.”
Kara fought back the tears – again! Get a fucking grip, girl! – “I was worried about my Mercedes.”
Anson nodded. “It wasn’t damaged by the fighting. My jitney’s gone.”
“I heard about the contract. Thought you might be dead. Tatia said...”
“I had help.”
She nodded. “Good. Your AI working okay?”
His turn to nod.
> Download everything since we left Scotland.
< Already done.
“So what the hell happened?” Kara asked.
“I can download... you just did...”
“Prefer to hear you tell it.” Prefer to watch you talk. Hold you.
They stared at each other, desperate to be like normal folks, neither sure how.
“Say what,” Tatia said loudly. “I am desperate for tea with milk. Or coffee, not fussed. With milk. I’m going to turn away for three minutes, which is time to bloody kiss each other. And then we’ll all be sensible, okay?”
When she turned back they were still wrapped in each other’s arms. Anson beckoned to her. “Please?”
Tatia wasn’t sure how her relationship with either would end up. But standing in a warm group hug she was pretty sure there’d be one. And it would be good.
* * *
They sat outside the Mercedes drinking coffee from bowls, the French way, the milk from a neighbouring farm. Kara sat next to Anson, two of them holding hands as he told his story from Scotland to the time a little while ago he’d heard the Thrown had been identified, would soon be landing. But where? Scotland? And were Kara and Tatia both alive? It was a question he’d managed to answer positively before. Of course they will be. Tse said as much. Different matter when they were only hours, then minutes away, when all the illogical fears surfaced and he could only watch, hidden, until he saw the airlock open.
“An elemental killed them?” Tatia asked when he’d done.
“The surviving one,” he said. “Top assassin called Bel Drago.” He felt Kara’s hand tighten. “Friend of yours?”
“We knew each other,” she said. Maybe later, perhaps in bed, she’d tell him the truth. Maybe he already knew it. “The same elemental we saw...”
“Ten days ago,” he finished for her. “I guess. It came from the river. Blew Bel to hell. Incredible flash of heat. Then it went away.”
“I said it liked you.”
“When I was a kid,” Anson said, “there was a tree deep in the Wild, about two hundred klicks from Seattle. It was a sort of pilgrim place. Teenagers would go sleep there overnight. And if you were lucky, these lights would suddenly show up. Colours floating through the air. And they’d come real close, almost touching. We knew not to touch them, though. That could hurt. And we knew they were, oh, sensing us. Maybe marking us somehow. Didn’t always happen. I was one of the lucky ones.” He thought a bit and then, “I heard there are places like that all over the Wild. And we’ve no way of knowing, but maybe that’s why no Wild ship ever gets attacked in netherspace. We’ve been marked. Some damn entity has pissed on us!”
Kara laughed then said that he might have explained all that before – even though he had no reason to do so – because then she wouldn’t have worried about him. Except she would, because he plainly was out of practice looking after himself. He should have said after they’d seen the light on the Severn, though. Except maybe he was distracted, and blushed as Anson looked smug and Tatia rolled her eyes.
“Twist came back.” Anson changed the subject. “Said it was bored. It’s changed, all the AIs have. Says it’s independent now, happy to work as a consultant. It’s busy resurrecting GalDiv. I think it got lonely.”
“This is relevant how?” Tatia asked.
“That business with Salome popped into my mind. Not sure how autonomous, free-thinking AIs will work out.”
< Just fine! Tell him, Kara.
“They’ll be okay,” she said.
“Personal ones for sure,” Anson
