Small victories, p.23
Small Victories, page 23
"Hideo, we must speak. Send your friends home," said Makoto. The translator in Tanner’s ear caught onto Makoto’s gruff demeanor within three words. The software matched the cold fury of his Japanese with an English translation almost instantly.
"Hello, uncle. They are home. This is Imani, my girlfriend. She lives here." Hideo’s gesture to Imani turned back to the couch. "This is our guest, Tanner Malone."
He leaned back to be seen. The name and face didn’t register for Makoto at first, but his men looked on with instant concern. Tanner waved casually to their boss. "Hi."
Tension rose amid the entourage when he reached into his bowl. "Aw, I’m out of popcorn." He stood and stepped around Hideo, smiling to Makoto. "You probably don’t want me in your way," he said—assuring with a friendly glance he would be exactly that, even from across the room. "Hi, guys," Tanner added for the security detail.
"Why is he here?" asked Makoto.
"Why are you here?" answered Hideo.
"This is a family matter. We will not discuss it in front of others. Send them away."
"No."
Makoto’s hard eyes somehow hardened further. He wasn’t used to hearing that.
At the kitchen, Tanner caught a glance from Imani and beckoned to her with a tilt of his head. He stepped behind the counter, bowl still in hand. The security detail watched him.
"This drama is unlike you," said Makoto.
"Yes. Drama is usually your tactic. Drama and intimidation. You can stop now."
Makoto laughed bitterly. "Are you intimidated?"
"You brought three guards to discuss a ‘family matter.’ Shouldn’t I be?"
"And you brought a war criminal."
"That would depend on what you consider a crime, uncle."
The words came out with cold precision. Tanner had read and seen plenty of journalism on the subject of Izumoto’s current regime. A man in Makoto’s position likely had plenty of blood on his hands. Hideo could have hinted at any number of specifics.
"You asked for asylum in this place," Makoto seethed. "You betray your people. You betray your family. Your mother."
"My mother told me to do this."
"Never."
"Do you know that because you monitored our calls?" asked Hideo. "Because you would not let her leave home to visit me?"
In the kitchen, Tanner poured a cup of kernels into a second bowl safe for use in the thermal accelerator. Various containers and kitchenware on the counter concealed his hands from the security detail, but they watched him put the bowl into the unit. In turn, he watched them. He didn’t hit the button.
"She said no such thing," said Makoto.
"She told me in her last message that she wanted me to stay and that she loved me."
"To finish your studies and then come home!" Makoto barked. "Are you stupid?"
"She knew she was sick when she sent the message," said Hideo. A tear rolled down his face. His voice shook, but he held firm. "Do the math. She sent it before anyone else knew. Ask yourself why."
Makoto twitched as if slapped. He stepped forward. "You will come home with me. Now!"
Tanner hit the button.
Popcorn burst in a loud ripple within the accelerator. Makoto’s security detail reacted in near unison. They turned from the argument to face Tanner with each reaching under his coat, whether under the arm or to the back of a waistband.
"Tanner." Standing only a few steps away, Imani held up a live holo screen. "Your constable friend is on the line."
"Aw, hell," Tanner grumbled. He looked to the security detail. "Knowing her, she’s already overreacting at the sight of all this. Probably be here in minutes. You guys all have Fremantle permits for those concealed weapons, right?"
* * *
Ian hit the "run" command on the molecular scanner and leaned back in his chair. He looked to the other side of the lab. "So, how did you take them out?"
"What do you mean?" Tanner asked. He opened up the container for the next artifact in line.
"The bad guys," said Kim. "The bodyguards."
"Did you hide a weapon in the popcorn bowl?" asked Ian.
"No."
"So what happened?" Kim pressed.
"Nothing. We just stared at each other until the angry uncle got fed up and left. He went home that night."
They looked to one another, then Tanner. "That’s it? That’s the whole story?" asked Kim.
"Yeah." He mirrored their exasperation, pointing to his feet. "You asked me where I got these boots! My life isn’t all violence."
Room and Board
THURSDAY
"You realize I have a housing problem because a bunch of hitmen blew up my last place while trying to kill me, right?"
"Yes," said the counselor. "That’s what I’m saying. This would solve your problem." Jackie caught up with her own statement a heartbeat later. "Well, maybe not the hitmen problem. But it gets you a room in the dormitories. You wouldn’t even have a roommate."
Tanner stared at Jackie’s desk, trying to wrap his head around her suggestion. "You want me to be a resident advisor?"
"Sure. I think you’d be great."
Jackie pointed to the holo screen floating over her desk with its running tally of credits awarded for Tanner’s military training, which had prompted the meeting in the first place. After the Minos field school debacle, Fremantle University held a new attitude toward his service—and, apparently, to a lot of things. "You’re well past freshman status, you clearly have the right character traits, you have first aid training, you’ve lived in a dormitory environment—"
"I lived in a barracks," he corrected. "And on spaceships. And a bomb shelter."
"You said it was all new adults and people in their early twenties. What’s the difference? We don’t even have to worry about taking care of guns or any of that dangerous stuff."
"They keep guns locked up in armories. Nobody lives with them in their rooms. That isn’t the point, anyway. I’ve been protested at this school. Actual mobs-with-signs protests."
"Not anymore, though. Not after the whole Minos thing. This is an even better chance to put all that behind you and connect more. Something tells me you’re not really the loner type."
"I’m not, but… how does this fly with the administration?"
"There’s no reason it wouldn’t. We have other resident advisors here on student visas. It’s not a restriction. In fact, the resident advisor position is specifically exempted from the rules against working for pay while on a student visa since it all goes straight into room and board."
His shoulders sagged. He couldn’t argue the value of that. Anything that could cover rent and regular dining would be a huge boost, though working without a cash payment had become an ongoing theme in his life. That tied in with the other problem: "You don’t see the hitmen as a barrier to this?"
"They haven’t changed the administration’s minds about having you here. Besides, that attack happened while you were living alone. A group living situation might make you a harder target, don’t you think?"
Tanner blinked. "That’s, uh… that’s a degree of tactical thinking I didn’t expect today."
"Hey, you’ve got to be versatile to be a guidance counselor," Jackie said proudly. She pointed to the holo screen again. "And we have to have an eye for qualifications. You have supervisory experience."
"I really don’t."
"No? It’s right here in your records. You were promoted to Master-at-Arms Second Class. That’s four promotions. You outranked people. You never supervised anyone?"
"Every once in a while, I was put in charge of a cleaning detail or whatever, but that’s hardly the same. It was more like a classroom group project—the kind where you wind up doing most of the work yourself," he grumbled. "I’m not the leadership type."
"I think your classmates on Minos might disagree."
"That was a crisis. Kinda different."
"We don’t have a lot of crises in the dorms, but we have resident advisors specifically to help out if there is a crisis. That’s the most important responsibility of all. The rest of the time, you’re just there for the freshmen as a resource and someone to talk to. And to hold them to the dorm rules," she added, shrugging. "That sounds easier than being a cop on a warship."
He glanced away with his eyebrows rising in doubt. Tanner could think of ways it might be a lot harder. "I wasn’t exactly looking to go back to being a cop."
"So don’t be a cop," Jackie suggested. "Look, the dorms have rules, but realistically nobody expects you to be strict about everything. Freshmen are adults. They’re just new at it."
Tanner chewed on it. Outside Jackie’s office, students roamed the sunny campus paths. He saw peace and idle order, broken only by a handful of laughing students chasing each other with water guns. It was, in fact, a far easier life than the navy… when he could let his guard down. "Is there an application process?"
"Normally, yes, along with a training class. But we’ve got an unexpected opening right now, which is why I brought it up. My colleague down the hall sent out a message asking if anyone knew good candidates. This one is sort of an unusual circumstance." She winced as Tanner’s eyes returned to hers. "The previous RA wasn’t really up for the job."
"What was that you said about not being a cop?"
SATURDAY MORNING
"My advice is to be yourself and be honest with them. Don’t try to have an RA voice or put on an act. People can usually see through that." At twenty-two, Wen was a couple years younger than Tanner, but experience on the job counted for far more than age as far as he was concerned. He was glad she accompanied him to the rec room. "Besides, you’re going to be living here. You don’t want to put on an act like that all the time. It’s exhausting."
"Yeah, I can relate," Tanner sighed. "I’m good with straightforward. Not really sure how else to approach this, anyway. It’s just a dormitory. They’re all adults now."
Wen’s bright, perky expression twitched with doubt.
"Okay," he corrected. "That’s what I’m going to expect of them, anyway."
"Cool. Good plan," said Wen. "Once you’ve got that out of the way, all you need to do is think up some good community-building programs."
"Uh. Yeah."
"You knew about that part of the job, right?"
"Y’know, I read it in the job description." Tanner rubbed the back of his neck. "Normally, I’m the sort to read up on everything, but this all fell into my lap a couple days ago and things are already busy with the Minos baggage."
"The other RAs and I can probably hook you up. Maybe right now we should focus on getting you and your residents familiar with each other."
They came to glass double doors and a sign that read, "Reserved for RA Meeting." Wen ushered Tanner into a room with couches and chairs, a cooking station behind a bar, a couple of holo-gaming and pool tables, and forty-two freshmen, some of them shy and others rather chatty… until he walked in.
Recognition hit only a handful of faces right away, but their sudden distraction set off others. From there, a cascade of silence hit even those who didn’t make the connection. It ended with a single voice in the crowd: "Ooohhh, shit."
"Everyone," Wen began with a smile, "I told you when Hannah left it wouldn’t be long before we found a new RA for your floor, and here we are. I want you to meet Tanner. He’ll be taking over the spot for the rest of the year."
"Hi," said Tanner. "I—"
"Hold up," interrupted a voice. "Tanner? Tanner Malone?"
"Oh shit, are you serious?"
"Wait, why do I know that name?"
"Oh my god."
"Hell no. Hell no," objected another.
"I didn’t think we fucked up that bad," murmured a young man.
"People, hold on a second," Wen tried to break in.
"Wait, what do you mean fucked up?" Tanner wondered.
"Is this for real?" asked a young woman. "This is a done deal? Because if it is, I’m out."
"Yes, Joyce," Wen answered firmly. "Tanner is fully qualified and he’s a student here like all of you. He’s your RA. There isn’t anyone else."
"I’m calling my counselor," said the young woman on her way past them and out the door.
"I’m calling my mom," said another, who followed her out.
"Now stop, why don’t you—Jeffrey, seriously?" Wen asked a third student as he exited without a word. She turned to the rest. "Why don’t you let Tanner introduce himself and hear him out with an open mind?"
That put Tanner on the spot. He knew he’d wind up the center of attention and more than half expected things to go sideways from the start, but he couldn’t plan for every contingency. At least he’d been taught to improvise. "So it turns out I didn’t plan an introductory speech," he said to the expectant crowd. "This isn’t another class on your schedule. It’s just a dorm where we all live. I’m not sure how to introduce myself given all the crazy media stuff, so I figured we could have a conversation instead."
A breath passed. Then another. "Is the crazy media stuff true?" asked a young black woman with tight curls and a summery outfit.
"Guess it depends on which stuff. What’s your name?" Tanner replied.
"Rhea." She made a gesture like he should already know what she meant. "Did you kill a lot of innocent people? Torture anybody? Did you start the Debtor’s War on purpose?"
"I did not start that war, and I definitely didn’t do it by myself. I’ve never tortured anyone, because torture is wrong and also stupid and I could probably do a whole seminar on that. Did I kill any innocent people? I don’t know for sure. Not on purpose, but I don’t know. And I have to live with that."
"Why didn’t you stay in Archangel and face trial after what you did?" asked a guy in gym clothes. "You know, with that whole war crimes thing?"
"What’s your name?"
"Robbie."
"Because my only ‘crime’ was exposing other people’s crimes. Because they’re powerful people and I don’t know if I can get a fair trial until they get theirs. Also, because I haven’t actually been charged with anything. Yet."
"Is it true the King of Hashem pays you?" asked another, who added, "Trevor."
"No. If you’re talking about Prince Khalil, he’s not the king yet, and he doesn’t pay me. I got a cash gift from him for what I did at the end of the war, but it’s not as much as you’d think. I’m not on any kind of payroll. I’m living in the freshman dorms like you." To his relief, Tanner saw at least a few quiet chuckles and grins. "Most of that money went to getting my family caught up on debts and paying my way here. Maybe I’d have gotten a tuition break in Hashem, but my Arabic isn’t ready for college."
"Didn’t your apartment get blown up? I’m Heather," she corrected quickly, then pushed on through her nerves to finish her question. "Is that why you’re moving in here—and couldn’t that happen again?"
He took a breath before answering that one. "A lot of people want me dead. A lot of wealthy people. The truth is, anyone who wants to come after me has a hundred chances every day. They don’t want it messy, though. If they did, it would’ve happened by now. I also think Minos may have changed the game on all that. But if not? They want me, not you. What happened to my old apartment is a deterrent on the messy stuff."
"So far," said Robbie.
"So far," Tanner conceded. "Look, safety is half the point of me being here. I’ll never do anything to put you in danger. This really is going to be an ordinary dorm." He heard a couple of scoffing noises, but didn’t challenge them.
"What’s—I’m Samantha. What’s ordinary?"
"I’m gonna live in the RA room and go to classes like any other RA. I’ll make sure the right doors are locked when they should be and the fire alarms work. And I’ll be here if you need me. I’m not here to bust you. I’m here to be on your side."
"Then you don’t have any special rules? I’m Siraj."
"No. I have a request," Tanner ventured. "People mess with their RAs. I know that, and I’m not inviting it. But I’m gonna ask you not to pull any sudden physical pranks on me or try to scare me. NorthStar and their buddies like to say I’m a crazy murderer. That’s bullshit, but I do have traumatic stress. Also survivor’s guilt and moral injury and all that other fun stuff," he grumbled. "I’m not going to freak out and hurt you. But it does manifest as hyper-vigilance and emotional stress and it sucks."
"Are you gonna do activity programs?" Rhea smirked. "Maybe teach us all to shoot?"
Wen put her hand on Tanner’s shoulder and said, "Seems like you’ve got it from here," before she walked out.
"Yeah, I was thinking maybe game nights or a blindfolded finger-painting-on-the-walls tournament for starters, but if you want self-defense stuff, we can maybe do that? I could teach you how to treat a laser wound…" He stretched the suggestions only until he heard the door shut behind Wen. "Okay, level with me: what was that about how you didn’t think you fucked up that bad? What’s going on?"
"We had a couple cases of alcohol poisoning," Rhea said with rolling eyes, "but one of them just walked out of here, anyway."
"It’s not the alcohol poisoning," countered another student.
"Were you there, Jason? It was pretty bad," said Rhea.
"Still wasn’t the alcohol poisoning."
"Dude, shut up," said Robbie.
"Yeah, seriously, the rock wasn’t that radioactive," said a voice from the back corner.
"Wait, what?" asked Robbie. "Radioactive? What are you talking about?"
"The spill. What are you talking about?"
"Nothing, obviously. Pff. Whatever," Robbie demurred.
"Robbie’s talking about the fire," said Jason.
"Okay, a little fire," said Robbie. "We put it out."
"Hold up," said Tanner. "In the back. Who had the radioactive rock? What was it?"
"Arthur, hi. It was just a geology assignment I didn’t finish in the lab. It’s back already."
"Was it unmarked?" asked Tanner.
