The camel's back - OYW 5
For the fourth time that day, Florian was turned away at the door of the infirmary, tray of food in hand. The nurses, it seemed, didn't want him underfoot, even if he was only going to sit quietly with Emil until he woke up. Dejectedly, he’d offered the lunch plate up to the nurse that barred his path. She’d sighed and shook her head. "Maybe later," she'd said. Florian left.
He was angry and frustrated, both feelings directed somewhat at himself for being otherwise unable to help his friend when help was needed. It was depressing, really, and he must have looked it, since he noticed the occasional stare of sympathy as he navigated the people-traffic back to the mess hall as gracefully as any native to microgravity.
His mood was not in any way helped by the constant aching of his knees and ankles, nor of the revelation that his uniform was slowly becoming too small. He’d need to talk to a supply officer soon. Growing pains, a nurse had called it. Normal for someone his age. Sometimes Florian wondered how the hell people survived to adulthood if they had to put up with this for the next god only knew how long.
The pressure of the mess hall preceded the noise of it by several seconds, and for a moment, it felt almost claustrophobic in there, but a deep breath cleared the feeling. He sat, and looked at the tray of untouched food in front of him. It was meant for Emil. Florian wasn’t particularly hungry, either. He took the plate cover off anyways, and continued to stare at the food, as though doing so would make it disappear. He didn’t like to waste.
Salvation came from the most unlikely source. Florian turned to look at the door a moment before it slid open and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Florian slid out of his chair, leaving the food, and made his way over to Lilja. He was too tired to play hide and seek today. She didn’t say anything, but gestured him out, and back to their quarters.
He humoured her awhile as she filled out paperwork and reports to send back to Granada. There was actually something very calming about listening to her fingers tap away at the computer console, but given that it was Lilja, Florian thought it was very much like the calm before a sortie. Tense - a killing intent in the air.
Killing intent? Perhaps not that strong, but similar, and certainly mutual. ‘Maiming intent’ sounded a bit silly to his mental ears, anyways.
She let him go some time later for dinner. Florian picked up a covered tray and made his way to the infirmary. There were no nurses guarding the door this time so he slipped inside. Emil was towards the back, apparently still asleep. It was a bit disappointing, actually. Florian set the dinner tray on the bedside table anyways, just in case he woke up hungry.
The infirmary was oddly silent. He could hear one nurse in the other room, clacking away at a computer and oblivious to his presence. The others seemed to be out at dinner. Florian was familiar with the room - he had checkups almost every other day - but only a passing familiarity. He was never as alone as he was now, and never had a chance to explore it, the way he explored the other places he frequented. So he took the opportunity now, peeking into drawers and cabinets, letting his eyes fall on what his fingers couldn’t.
Swabs, tools, sutures, and asprin, he left no proverbial stone unturned, yet didn’t particularly disrupt the room. He paused once, finding a covered implement. This he picked up to inspect, pulling the cover off gently. It was a scalpel, and wickedly sharp. Florian slid the cover back on, and made to put it back, but hesitated, then. He slipped it in his pocket instead, and beat a hasty retreat. One item among so many, the staff wouldn’t even notice it missing.
He didn’t know why he took it, but by now, he knew better than to question his impulses. They kept him alive. He was still too tired to lead Lilja around on a chase, and she’d start looking any minute now. He went back to his room.
~
He’d been dreaming again, the same dream he’d had since...
...Since Lilja had been around...But hadn’t she always been? She was his guardian. But...
They were always the same - the pressure on his arms and head, the bangs that drowned everything out, and the woman with the curly hair. She always looked so sad. In his dreams, he’d hear himself talking to her. “Tessie,” he’d say. Her mouth would move but there’d be no audible answer. Sometimes she’d die, a gunshot wound in her back. Sometimes he’d see a blond lady afterwards. Seeing her brought a terribly strong feeling of nostalgia, and he felt very much as though he was missing something.
Regardless of what happened, Lilja was always there afterwards. She was always holding a gun. He’d always feel hatred, as though what happened was always her fault and always would be.
He woke up with a start, but not a yell. On the other side of the room, Lilja slept undisturbed. Florian’s dream had been exceptionally intense this night but he hadn’t woken her.
He shimmied out of the bed, clad in an undershirt and sweatpants, and silently floated over to Lilja’s bed. Somehow, seeing her like this boiled the emotions from his dream state. He felt that profound hatred stirring in his gut, and swelling to fill his chest and head. He imagined that were he capable, he would be exhaling smoke. He went back over to his bed, and fished under the pillow a moment, emerging with the scalpel he’d swiped earlier in the day. It was time to do something about this.
He stood over Lilja’s sleeping form for a few minutes, thinking. Not over the ifs, or even the whys, but the hows. He raised the knife above his head.
Lilja’s eyes snapped open a split second before the scalpel could come down on her. She scrambled backwards fast enough that the blade missed it’s intended target - her temple. Instead, Florian found himself carving a long and deep gouge in her arm before she could completely get away. Lilja bit back a scream, maintaining enough sense to keep moving as the boy righted himself for another go. Even disoriented as she was, Lilja’s instincts kicked in, and she trusted them to keep her alive right now. She pulled herself out of the bed-straps and spilled out rather ungracefully as she evaded a second blow. Florian growled with dissatisfaction.
Lilja shoved off against the bed, scrambling to get to the door. It was unlocked and opened at her approach. There was a handrail line that began just outside and she grasped as one unfolded from the wall, letting it pull her away from her assailant. Florian was almost on top of her by now, and swung again, catching her foot.
Lilja yanked her legs in, avoiding another scream, although she couldn’t help a whimper of pain. Her arm was soaked in blood, and what wasn’t absorbed by her nightshirt was forming into small globules in the zero-g. Florian lept out after her, but Lilja kicked wildly, her heels catching him square in the face. The impact stalled him, and he didn’t move right away, stunned by the impact. It gave her enough time to get around the corner and out of sight.
It was a good few seconds before Florian had enough sense to move, though he felt as though he was swimming. His sight and hearing were muddled somewhat, but he could feel Lilja, the way he always could - a blemish on an otherwise even pressure. He shook his head to clear his senses - it helped somewhat - and took off after her. It was easy to follow the scattered globules of blood, floating in irregular but vaguely spherical shapes. He took off after her.
Lilja was on autopilot. The gash in her arm was beginning to hurt, now that the initial rush of adrenaline had worn off. She changed directions down the hallway at whims, hoping to confuse her pursuer, though she idly noticed that she was heading through some of the more heavily populated portions of the ship, carelessly and noisily floating into doors. Were it not an ungodly hour of morning, there would certainly be help out already.
It felt like an eternity, but the monotony of the halls finally gave way to the large titanium doors that signalled the hangar area. The maintenance crew was working round-robin in shifts. There would be people there. She sighed in relief, holding her injured arm close against her body. The front of her nightshirt was almost completely soaked red.
She palmed the doors open, suddenly feeling weak, and all but collapsed inside. The echo of work being done seemed unreasonably loud. Slowly, she pulled herself up and prepared to jump down off the catwalk to find help, but she suddenly felt it prudent to duck. She did. Florian went sailing over her head, somersaulting in midair from momentum. Lilja tried to get up but fell backwards. She tried again, but found she lacked the strength, instead opting to fumble along the ground and slide under the railing. She managed, barely, and her injured arm and foot screamed in pain. She had a small amount of downwards momentum, but Florian threw himself after her a split second later, grabbing her on the way down and pulling them both towards the floor.
Sounds of working had stopped now, and the semi-dazed Lilja cold feel an audience growing. If Florian noticed, he didn’t let it show.
He was between her and the door now. Florian knew it would be impossible for her to get past him if she was as weak as she looked to be. Lilja pulled herself back as best she could, pressing herself against a bulkhead as though it could swallow her up. Her chest was heaving with exertion, buck as Florian’s was. He could feel his heartbeat shudder through his body, reverberating through every inch of him. There was a roar of blood in his ears, and he could hear nothing else. His entire being was focused on this very moment, every fibre screaming for him to kill. He didn’t even notice how much his head was hurting.
He watched the woman for awhile. She was visibly paler now, and trembling as the adrenaline in her system began to sour and the beginnings of shock set in. It was rather pathetic, really. Her pressure felt small and weak against his. He smiled. He was reminded of how he felt in sorties in his new Zeong; powerful and terrifying.
Slowly, he raised the scalpel.
Lilja winced at the movement, bringing her arms up to shield her face. Florian struck forward...
Something caught his arm.
It took Florian a second to process that the woman underneath him was not thrashing in death, and then registered the pressure around his wrist. There was a large hand that caught his blow, mere inches away from Lilja’s shaking wrists.
Florian stared at the offending hand as though he’d never seen something like it before, and as he was about to try and pull away, he instead felt himself be pulled away from the woman and against something hard and warm. He looked up angrily to find Shasa staring back at him coolly, ash blond hair shining almost white in the lighting. Florian tried to thrash away, but found himself trapped in the man’s arms in a bear-hug of sorts.
A swarm of people had descended on Lilja by now, several dashing off seconds later to page the infirmary. Florian continued to struggle against Shasa, screaming and crying in frustration and anger. The large man had one hand around the one that Florian carried the knife in, and was slowly easing the boy’s grip open. Florian fought back every way he knew how - biting, kicking, cursing and squirming, but Shasa’s hold was a vice, and before long, the scalpel was floating uselessly in the space beside them. Still the boy struggled as desperately as he knew how.
Shasa was slowly pulling him away from the swarm of people that had descended. It was easy for someone of his size to contain the child’s thrashings. “Oy, calm down,” he said as gently as possible, “Shh, hey. Calm down, kiddo.”
“SHE KILLED THEM!” Florian shrieked, still straining to get free. “SHE KILLED TESSIE! SHE KILLED EVERYONE! I HATE YOU, YOU BITCH, I HATE YOU! I WANT SHIV BACK! JUST DIE!”
Shasa was, truthfully, a little bit shocked that the boy even knew how to swear, let alone say such a hateful thing. He was about to comment, but the door above them opened to admit a handful of Marines (including, he noticed, an officer among them) and about twice as many nurses. He pulled the boy a bit farther away, turning to hide him from the clutch of people.
Florian seemed to realize he’d been defeated then, his look of anger melting away to something like shock, and he slackened, screams dying down to miserable little whimpers. He turned towards Shasa and buried his face in the man’s utility suit.
“Hey, talk to me, kid...”
The boy shook his head and pushed himself against Shasa, beginning to shake. The events of the night were beginning to catch up, and Florian, quite honestly, was afraid of the actions he’d just taken. Shasa said something, but he didn’t register it as he replayed his memories as though they were a film, and not really his.
“Florian, hey! Look at me, kid. What got you so worked up?”
Shasa forced Florian to look at him with a hand under his chin. Florian found it hard to meet his eyes, even if they were half-hidden behind ash blond bangs.
“I...” He almost said he didn’t know. That wasn’t quite true. There were things stirring in his head now that he hadn’t been aware of before. That confused him very much. “I hate her,” he finally managed, his voice soft and sore-sounding from the screaming.
“..but I can’t. Part of me wants to kill her...”
“But...?”
“She... I can’t.”
Shasa wanted to continue, but a pair of Marines had made their way over, one making a grab for Florian. Shasa pulled the boy out of the way fast enough to prevent it. “Oy,” he chided, “Not now. I just got him to calm down.”
The Marine frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but the tired-looking officer had followed. “McHale, back off.”
Florian looked up at this - a tiny smile tugging at his lips, seeing Banks stand up for him. The Marines looked somewhat confused.
Banks sighed. “The situation is under control for now. Back to your posts. Make sure nobody goes spreading rumors. Get some witness statements - we’ll need them.” The Marines looked first at each other, then back to Banks, saluting, then moving back to the mess of people.
Shasa couldn’t help a grin. “Thanks, sir.”
Banks returned the expression, though he cast a worried look down at the child. “We can’t afford a full-out investigation into this right now. He’s too valuable and we need to focus. This’ll probably bite me in the ass down the line, but I’m too tired to care at the moment.”
Shasa nodded, then looked down at Florian. “I’ll take care of him for tonight then.”
Banks nodded in agreement. “We’ll settle this out in the morning.”
~
Florian slept in Shasa’s bunk that night. This area of the ship was far more densely populated than the pilot quarters, but for once, he didn’t feel claustrophobic because of it. Something about the press of people against his mind seemed comforting now, like a heavy blanket, or the rumbling hum of the ship - a sound he doubted he’d be able to sleep without.
He felt safe here, surrounded by the feeling of life. Belatedly, he realized how long it had been since he’d really felt like this.
It felt nice.
~
Herrn,
I’m afraid I’ve failed. 0531 Florian seems to have broken away from certain elements of his conditioning, though others seem to not only remain, but remain very strongly. From what I can tell, even on his subconscious level he seems to have accepted this persona as his proper identity.
On the other hand, he remembers both Contessa and Siobhan with perfect clarity. I don’t know what else, if anything, he remembers; he grows violent when I approach, and I cannot initiate anything. Understandable, as I believe he holds me responsible for both their deaths. While he’s incorrect in Siobhan’s case, I’m afraid I cannot deny Contessa’s fate.
He seems stable unless my proximity provokes him, which indicates that most; if not all of the personality conditioning has stuck...
...or, perhaps, now that I think of it, it is the significant change in circumstance. Perhaps I will follow up at a less crucial time.
He remains largely nonverbal, though he’s speaking more. I recall Contessa mentioning that he was quiet to begin with, however, which unfortunately neither proves nor disproves the above theory. He responds to Lt. Banks’ orders without question, still. Siobhan made that assignment, and I never saw a need to change it - Banks is intelligent and competent.
Regardless of the hows and whys, the fact remains that I no longer have any sort of control over this boy. By the time you read this I will be on my way back to Granada. I will face any reprimands then.
Lilja.
He was angry and frustrated, both feelings directed somewhat at himself for being otherwise unable to help his friend when help was needed. It was depressing, really, and he must have looked it, since he noticed the occasional stare of sympathy as he navigated the people-traffic back to the mess hall as gracefully as any native to microgravity.
His mood was not in any way helped by the constant aching of his knees and ankles, nor of the revelation that his uniform was slowly becoming too small. He’d need to talk to a supply officer soon. Growing pains, a nurse had called it. Normal for someone his age. Sometimes Florian wondered how the hell people survived to adulthood if they had to put up with this for the next god only knew how long.
The pressure of the mess hall preceded the noise of it by several seconds, and for a moment, it felt almost claustrophobic in there, but a deep breath cleared the feeling. He sat, and looked at the tray of untouched food in front of him. It was meant for Emil. Florian wasn’t particularly hungry, either. He took the plate cover off anyways, and continued to stare at the food, as though doing so would make it disappear. He didn’t like to waste.
Salvation came from the most unlikely source. Florian turned to look at the door a moment before it slid open and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Florian slid out of his chair, leaving the food, and made his way over to Lilja. He was too tired to play hide and seek today. She didn’t say anything, but gestured him out, and back to their quarters.
He humoured her awhile as she filled out paperwork and reports to send back to Granada. There was actually something very calming about listening to her fingers tap away at the computer console, but given that it was Lilja, Florian thought it was very much like the calm before a sortie. Tense - a killing intent in the air.
Killing intent? Perhaps not that strong, but similar, and certainly mutual. ‘Maiming intent’ sounded a bit silly to his mental ears, anyways.
She let him go some time later for dinner. Florian picked up a covered tray and made his way to the infirmary. There were no nurses guarding the door this time so he slipped inside. Emil was towards the back, apparently still asleep. It was a bit disappointing, actually. Florian set the dinner tray on the bedside table anyways, just in case he woke up hungry.
The infirmary was oddly silent. He could hear one nurse in the other room, clacking away at a computer and oblivious to his presence. The others seemed to be out at dinner. Florian was familiar with the room - he had checkups almost every other day - but only a passing familiarity. He was never as alone as he was now, and never had a chance to explore it, the way he explored the other places he frequented. So he took the opportunity now, peeking into drawers and cabinets, letting his eyes fall on what his fingers couldn’t.
Swabs, tools, sutures, and asprin, he left no proverbial stone unturned, yet didn’t particularly disrupt the room. He paused once, finding a covered implement. This he picked up to inspect, pulling the cover off gently. It was a scalpel, and wickedly sharp. Florian slid the cover back on, and made to put it back, but hesitated, then. He slipped it in his pocket instead, and beat a hasty retreat. One item among so many, the staff wouldn’t even notice it missing.
He didn’t know why he took it, but by now, he knew better than to question his impulses. They kept him alive. He was still too tired to lead Lilja around on a chase, and she’d start looking any minute now. He went back to his room.
~
He’d been dreaming again, the same dream he’d had since...
...Since Lilja had been around...But hadn’t she always been? She was his guardian. But...
They were always the same - the pressure on his arms and head, the bangs that drowned everything out, and the woman with the curly hair. She always looked so sad. In his dreams, he’d hear himself talking to her. “Tessie,” he’d say. Her mouth would move but there’d be no audible answer. Sometimes she’d die, a gunshot wound in her back. Sometimes he’d see a blond lady afterwards. Seeing her brought a terribly strong feeling of nostalgia, and he felt very much as though he was missing something.
Regardless of what happened, Lilja was always there afterwards. She was always holding a gun. He’d always feel hatred, as though what happened was always her fault and always would be.
He woke up with a start, but not a yell. On the other side of the room, Lilja slept undisturbed. Florian’s dream had been exceptionally intense this night but he hadn’t woken her.
He shimmied out of the bed, clad in an undershirt and sweatpants, and silently floated over to Lilja’s bed. Somehow, seeing her like this boiled the emotions from his dream state. He felt that profound hatred stirring in his gut, and swelling to fill his chest and head. He imagined that were he capable, he would be exhaling smoke. He went back over to his bed, and fished under the pillow a moment, emerging with the scalpel he’d swiped earlier in the day. It was time to do something about this.
He stood over Lilja’s sleeping form for a few minutes, thinking. Not over the ifs, or even the whys, but the hows. He raised the knife above his head.
Lilja’s eyes snapped open a split second before the scalpel could come down on her. She scrambled backwards fast enough that the blade missed it’s intended target - her temple. Instead, Florian found himself carving a long and deep gouge in her arm before she could completely get away. Lilja bit back a scream, maintaining enough sense to keep moving as the boy righted himself for another go. Even disoriented as she was, Lilja’s instincts kicked in, and she trusted them to keep her alive right now. She pulled herself out of the bed-straps and spilled out rather ungracefully as she evaded a second blow. Florian growled with dissatisfaction.
Lilja shoved off against the bed, scrambling to get to the door. It was unlocked and opened at her approach. There was a handrail line that began just outside and she grasped as one unfolded from the wall, letting it pull her away from her assailant. Florian was almost on top of her by now, and swung again, catching her foot.
Lilja yanked her legs in, avoiding another scream, although she couldn’t help a whimper of pain. Her arm was soaked in blood, and what wasn’t absorbed by her nightshirt was forming into small globules in the zero-g. Florian lept out after her, but Lilja kicked wildly, her heels catching him square in the face. The impact stalled him, and he didn’t move right away, stunned by the impact. It gave her enough time to get around the corner and out of sight.
It was a good few seconds before Florian had enough sense to move, though he felt as though he was swimming. His sight and hearing were muddled somewhat, but he could feel Lilja, the way he always could - a blemish on an otherwise even pressure. He shook his head to clear his senses - it helped somewhat - and took off after her. It was easy to follow the scattered globules of blood, floating in irregular but vaguely spherical shapes. He took off after her.
Lilja was on autopilot. The gash in her arm was beginning to hurt, now that the initial rush of adrenaline had worn off. She changed directions down the hallway at whims, hoping to confuse her pursuer, though she idly noticed that she was heading through some of the more heavily populated portions of the ship, carelessly and noisily floating into doors. Were it not an ungodly hour of morning, there would certainly be help out already.
It felt like an eternity, but the monotony of the halls finally gave way to the large titanium doors that signalled the hangar area. The maintenance crew was working round-robin in shifts. There would be people there. She sighed in relief, holding her injured arm close against her body. The front of her nightshirt was almost completely soaked red.
She palmed the doors open, suddenly feeling weak, and all but collapsed inside. The echo of work being done seemed unreasonably loud. Slowly, she pulled herself up and prepared to jump down off the catwalk to find help, but she suddenly felt it prudent to duck. She did. Florian went sailing over her head, somersaulting in midair from momentum. Lilja tried to get up but fell backwards. She tried again, but found she lacked the strength, instead opting to fumble along the ground and slide under the railing. She managed, barely, and her injured arm and foot screamed in pain. She had a small amount of downwards momentum, but Florian threw himself after her a split second later, grabbing her on the way down and pulling them both towards the floor.
Sounds of working had stopped now, and the semi-dazed Lilja cold feel an audience growing. If Florian noticed, he didn’t let it show.
He was between her and the door now. Florian knew it would be impossible for her to get past him if she was as weak as she looked to be. Lilja pulled herself back as best she could, pressing herself against a bulkhead as though it could swallow her up. Her chest was heaving with exertion, buck as Florian’s was. He could feel his heartbeat shudder through his body, reverberating through every inch of him. There was a roar of blood in his ears, and he could hear nothing else. His entire being was focused on this very moment, every fibre screaming for him to kill. He didn’t even notice how much his head was hurting.
He watched the woman for awhile. She was visibly paler now, and trembling as the adrenaline in her system began to sour and the beginnings of shock set in. It was rather pathetic, really. Her pressure felt small and weak against his. He smiled. He was reminded of how he felt in sorties in his new Zeong; powerful and terrifying.
Slowly, he raised the scalpel.
Lilja winced at the movement, bringing her arms up to shield her face. Florian struck forward...
Something caught his arm.
It took Florian a second to process that the woman underneath him was not thrashing in death, and then registered the pressure around his wrist. There was a large hand that caught his blow, mere inches away from Lilja’s shaking wrists.
Florian stared at the offending hand as though he’d never seen something like it before, and as he was about to try and pull away, he instead felt himself be pulled away from the woman and against something hard and warm. He looked up angrily to find Shasa staring back at him coolly, ash blond hair shining almost white in the lighting. Florian tried to thrash away, but found himself trapped in the man’s arms in a bear-hug of sorts.
A swarm of people had descended on Lilja by now, several dashing off seconds later to page the infirmary. Florian continued to struggle against Shasa, screaming and crying in frustration and anger. The large man had one hand around the one that Florian carried the knife in, and was slowly easing the boy’s grip open. Florian fought back every way he knew how - biting, kicking, cursing and squirming, but Shasa’s hold was a vice, and before long, the scalpel was floating uselessly in the space beside them. Still the boy struggled as desperately as he knew how.
Shasa was slowly pulling him away from the swarm of people that had descended. It was easy for someone of his size to contain the child’s thrashings. “Oy, calm down,” he said as gently as possible, “Shh, hey. Calm down, kiddo.”
“SHE KILLED THEM!” Florian shrieked, still straining to get free. “SHE KILLED TESSIE! SHE KILLED EVERYONE! I HATE YOU, YOU BITCH, I HATE YOU! I WANT SHIV BACK! JUST DIE!”
Shasa was, truthfully, a little bit shocked that the boy even knew how to swear, let alone say such a hateful thing. He was about to comment, but the door above them opened to admit a handful of Marines (including, he noticed, an officer among them) and about twice as many nurses. He pulled the boy a bit farther away, turning to hide him from the clutch of people.
Florian seemed to realize he’d been defeated then, his look of anger melting away to something like shock, and he slackened, screams dying down to miserable little whimpers. He turned towards Shasa and buried his face in the man’s utility suit.
“Hey, talk to me, kid...”
The boy shook his head and pushed himself against Shasa, beginning to shake. The events of the night were beginning to catch up, and Florian, quite honestly, was afraid of the actions he’d just taken. Shasa said something, but he didn’t register it as he replayed his memories as though they were a film, and not really his.
“Florian, hey! Look at me, kid. What got you so worked up?”
Shasa forced Florian to look at him with a hand under his chin. Florian found it hard to meet his eyes, even if they were half-hidden behind ash blond bangs.
“I...” He almost said he didn’t know. That wasn’t quite true. There were things stirring in his head now that he hadn’t been aware of before. That confused him very much. “I hate her,” he finally managed, his voice soft and sore-sounding from the screaming.
“..but I can’t. Part of me wants to kill her...”
“But...?”
“She... I can’t.”
Shasa wanted to continue, but a pair of Marines had made their way over, one making a grab for Florian. Shasa pulled the boy out of the way fast enough to prevent it. “Oy,” he chided, “Not now. I just got him to calm down.”
The Marine frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but the tired-looking officer had followed. “McHale, back off.”
Florian looked up at this - a tiny smile tugging at his lips, seeing Banks stand up for him. The Marines looked somewhat confused.
Banks sighed. “The situation is under control for now. Back to your posts. Make sure nobody goes spreading rumors. Get some witness statements - we’ll need them.” The Marines looked first at each other, then back to Banks, saluting, then moving back to the mess of people.
Shasa couldn’t help a grin. “Thanks, sir.”
Banks returned the expression, though he cast a worried look down at the child. “We can’t afford a full-out investigation into this right now. He’s too valuable and we need to focus. This’ll probably bite me in the ass down the line, but I’m too tired to care at the moment.”
Shasa nodded, then looked down at Florian. “I’ll take care of him for tonight then.”
Banks nodded in agreement. “We’ll settle this out in the morning.”
~
Florian slept in Shasa’s bunk that night. This area of the ship was far more densely populated than the pilot quarters, but for once, he didn’t feel claustrophobic because of it. Something about the press of people against his mind seemed comforting now, like a heavy blanket, or the rumbling hum of the ship - a sound he doubted he’d be able to sleep without.
He felt safe here, surrounded by the feeling of life. Belatedly, he realized how long it had been since he’d really felt like this.
It felt nice.
~
Herrn,
I’m afraid I’ve failed. 0531 Florian seems to have broken away from certain elements of his conditioning, though others seem to not only remain, but remain very strongly. From what I can tell, even on his subconscious level he seems to have accepted this persona as his proper identity.
On the other hand, he remembers both Contessa and Siobhan with perfect clarity. I don’t know what else, if anything, he remembers; he grows violent when I approach, and I cannot initiate anything. Understandable, as I believe he holds me responsible for both their deaths. While he’s incorrect in Siobhan’s case, I’m afraid I cannot deny Contessa’s fate.
He seems stable unless my proximity provokes him, which indicates that most; if not all of the personality conditioning has stuck...
...or, perhaps, now that I think of it, it is the significant change in circumstance. Perhaps I will follow up at a less crucial time.
He remains largely nonverbal, though he’s speaking more. I recall Contessa mentioning that he was quiet to begin with, however, which unfortunately neither proves nor disproves the above theory. He responds to Lt. Banks’ orders without question, still. Siobhan made that assignment, and I never saw a need to change it - Banks is intelligent and competent.
Regardless of the hows and whys, the fact remains that I no longer have any sort of control over this boy. By the time you read this I will be on my way back to Granada. I will face any reprimands then.
Lilja.