we’ve no idea. Scary, right? He might figure out that I didn’t stay dead and come back for me. Which will endanger all the scientists on the base as well as my new family—the security team.
He already killed Officer Menz, but I’m determined that he’s not getting anyone else so I’m gonna train hard, lay low, and not attract attention. Don’t laugh. I am capable of…oh, all right. I admit, it’s killing me not to entangle with the Q-net and hunt him and his looter thugs down. Happy now?
“That’s enough for today, Recruit. Read chapters eight through ten in the security handbook tonight. See you tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred.” Elese gives me a jaunty wave.
The security handbook is actually rather interesting. It has lessons on how to deal with criminals, how to read body language, how to decipher a crime scene, etc... Elese and I discuss these lessons the next day between practice bouts.
I chug water as I navigate the hallways. The biggest downside of being “dead” is not being able to leave this section of the base since only my parents and a few others know I’m still alive. The perks are that I don’t have to attend socialization time, no more required school work and I can walk around without an escort. I fought for that last one.
The Chief of Security and my new boss, Tace Radcliff, is rather overprotective and paranoid. Good qualities for a security chief, but I argued, since the other officers don’t have a partner—his word for bodyguard—with them constantly, I don’t need one either. Plus the camera feeds in the security area have been put on a special closed loop, meaning they’re not connected to the Q-net so no one can worm into them. Only the security officer on watch can see what’s going on.
If my partner could be Niall, his son, then I’d reconsider. However, Officer Radcliff seems determined to keep us too busy to do more than cuddle on the couch after dinner, which usually ends up with one or both of us sound asleep.
Entering housing unit three-oh-one, I pause and breathe in the heavenly scent of garlic and tomatoes. Radcliff might be a pain in the butt, but the man sure can cook especially when you consider the poor and artificial quality of the ingredients—we are on an exoplanet quadrillions of kilometers from Earth—or fifty thousand light years if that helps you picture it better. Space is big. Really big.
And the fact he spends the time feeding me and my parents despite being crazy busy also goes in his favor. After all, there are sixteen looters confined in detention and armed shadow-blobs in the Warrior pits. Oh, excuse me…Hostile Life Forms (HoLFs). Lots going on. You can read a detailed report in Q-cluster 978-1946-3810-19 if you’re so inclined.
I hurry through the living area, bypass the kitchen and duck into the washroom before Radcliff orders me to set the table. Showering is the priority. Once clean and dressed in jeans and one of Elese’s hand-me-down T-shirts, I emerge from my room. Yes, I’m still living with Radcliff. My parents insisted I stay here until I turn eighteen A-years old. Plus there’s no Q-net terminal in the room so I won’t be tempted. Although I think my mom’s more worried I’d be more tempted by Niall than the Q-net if I had my own unit. And she would be right. Not that I’ll ever tell her.
Radcliff glances at me as I grab the stack of plates. After spending forty days living with him, I’m somewhat immune to his glowers. He’s close to my parents’ ages—mid-forties—with bristle-short black hair that’s streaked with gray. Broad shoulders and a solid muscular build, Radcliff looms over me by a good twenty centimeters.
My parents arrive and I’m squished between them. They’ve been rather clingy since I died. Guess I can’t blame them. They watched Jarren, the murdering looter, shoot me, and if it wasn’t for Menz’s quick action, I’d be ashes. The parent sandwich doesn’t last long. The smell of food entices my dad over to the oven, but my mom remains.
Examining my expression with her mom X-ray vision, she says, “You don’t look as tired today. How did training go?”
“My bruises have bruises.” I joke…sort of. Looking at my mother is like staring into my future. I inherited her straight hair, coloring and eye shape, except mine are hazel while hers are brown. She appears younger than her forty-four A-years, which I’m hoping is also in my