005: MARINA - EQUATORIAL DISTRICT - DAY 2

   Marina made her way through the barracks yards, trudging slowly towards her lodge. The weight of her kitbag caused her sore muscles to complain and her even sorer torso to chime in with an additional gripe of discomfort every few steps. The sun was high, and the courtyard was pleasantly warm with only the briefest chill occasionally whispering through the shaded areas under the awnings and trees.  
    She reached her lodge, wearily approaching the stoop and held her thumb to the lock pad. However the familiar and comforting click that would ordinarily welcome him home was absent. She frowned and tried the handle, the door opened easily. Unlocked. Cautiously, he stepped inside -
   -and was barely over the threshold before Kal had his arms around her, he moved in for a brief kiss until Marina's groan of pain forced him to release her. 

   “Sorry!" he immediately backed away, holding his hands up in genuine apology. "I’m so sorry. Are you alright?"
   She nodded.
  "Sorry," he managed one more time, wincing. He reached out and clasped Marina's biceps, holding her at arms length and studying her face; his dark green eyes full of concern. "I tried to come and see you when they shipped you back last night but protocol and all -"
  "I'm fine, bruised but fine."
  "Marina.." he said, a berating tone in his voice. "I got a full assessment of your injuries from the med staff. You could've been killed."
  "Kal, I could be killed every time I'm deployed." She cupped his face. "But I wasn't. I'm here. I'm home. In point of that, what are you doing here?"
  He waved away the question, still holding her.
  "Kal?"
  His expression quickly shifted from concern to sadness.
  "I saw the news footage..." he said, trailing off, examining her. "How bad was it?"
  Marina looked at him gravely. "Bad."
  He held her once more, gently this time, and her torso and muscles didn't protest as much. She reached for him, taking him in her arms, directly controlling how hard their bodies pressed together, Kal smelled like honey and sandalwood. Marina breathed deeply of it, taking it in. It was familiar and comforting. She dropped her kitbag at his feet and finally allowed herself to release the fear and rage that clutched at her heart like an iron glove.

   "Thank you," she whispered gently. 

  She embraced him harder, ignoring the pain and burying her face even deeper in his neck. She didn't cry, she wasn't one for it, but her breath was short and sharp - even in anguish Marina was controlled and disciplined. Kal held her, running his fingers through her cropped hair and stroking her quickly rising and falling shoulders until she was at last done. 

   Finally, she pulled away, the brief outburst was all but gone. She wiped her face, despite the lack of tears, her posture and face stoic and contained once more. She felt better, but not entirely. The memories of First Province would be with her for a long time, swimming around her dreams and subconscious. A perfect accompaniment to the other images of battle and death that her decade of service had accumulated. She carried them with her too, as both symbols of remembrance and fears to motivate her. To drive her onwards in service to the Capital. Justice, Ever Forwards she reminded herself. If bad dreams and lost friends were the price she had to pay to protect their way of life and uphold the values of her people, then she was honoured to carry the burden. To run from her duty meant others' sacrifices would be in vain. She would not allow that so long as the Bell and Wheel adorned her sleeve. She would not repeat the mistakes of the past.

  "I'm sorry," she said again, smiling sadly.

  "Can I get you anything?" Kal said, returning the smile, his much warmer, yet failing to hide the worry that came and went across his face in quick ripples. 
   "Some springbark tea would be good, another shower - a month of sleep perhaps." 

He kissed her softly, first her lips then forehead. 
  "Consider it done. Now sit down." He picked up her kitbag and carried it towards the bedroom.
  Marina meandered over to the couch and gently lowered herself onto it, sprawling, willing herself to relax. Her ribs were still crying out in agony with every movement and after a few tries she found a position that didn't result in pain. The bone-repair hormones that she'd been administered after being shipped back from First Province would reduce her healing time and mobility, but it would still be several more days before she was entirely pain free. She finally settled, using a nearby throw pillow for an extra portion of comfort.       
    Architecturally, the barracks lodges were basic, and functional - designed to provide the Capitals military with the required space, comfort and amenities but with little thought towards visual aesthetic. This had never bothered Marina throughout her initial six years in the lodge, as she was very much function over form, too focused on her career to put time into a home. Kal however, had very different ideas when he'd arrived in her life and together they had transformed the overly spacious militarised minimalism into a home.

    "Screen on," she spoke. The large wall screen came to life, and the room was immediately filled with the aftermath of First Province. The smoking docks and the wreckage of the watchtower were like a slap to the face.
   "Screen off!" She had no desire to look at, or hear about the previous day any more, but Kal had understandably been keeping abreast of developments and had left the screen set to EQD News Network.

 She paused. She needed a distraction, something to completely take her mind away from the men and women she'd gotten killed. Something to make her forget about the Vice Ministers probing questions and forced condolences that the Cabinet had offered.
  "Earth channels." The screen presented the list of all channels and platforms showing content from Old Earth. Several hundred thousand pieces of media content had been preserved and stored on the Ark that brought the first Lemurian colonists to settle on the world; music, comedies, television, plays, movies, audiobooks - a vast selection of content all deemed to be of cultural and historical significance. Marina navigated the menus, trying to find something in the sea of content.
  Kal emerged from the bedroom, making his way to the kitchen.
  "Sorry, I left the news on. I was on media all day yesterday following it, most of the regents and department heads also. Everything came to a halt."
  "I'm glad we could provide some entertainment."
   Kal stood in the doorway to the kitchen, the sound of boiling water bubbling behind him.
  "Twas an elderly man in the tower, not far from retirement. He sounded the beacon. The networks are calling him a hero."
  "Someone else would have sounded it if not him. Lots of heroes died yesterday, Kal. I don't really want to speak -"
 "Of course, of course. How was debrief? If I can ask that?"
 "Fine. Powell was on the attack, focusing more on Marvel's conduct that anything else. They bickered and undermined each other, refusing to take blame for the gaps in intelligence. Minister Suri seemed a mite more understanding. Colonel Renshaw too."
  "Was it Marvel who.." he moved her fingers to indicate running upwards.
  "Of course."
  "Man's an idiot." Kal turned his attention back to the tea. Marina managed a small chuckle.
   "Why are you not in Court?" she asked.
   "I found out your unit had been deployed when I arrived yesterday. As I said, it was all over the building. Every screen. I insisted on watching. We all did." He carried through two mugs of steaming tea and placed them on the centrepiece table. He sat next to her, patted her knee .
  "I wanted to get to you as soon as the news said they were shipping hoppers back, so as I was leaving I told Vice Regent Corolla I wouldn't be in until I'd seen you and knew you were safe."
   "And she was happy to yield?"
   "I didn't give her a choice. Although I'm expected back in...well, four hours ago." He indicated the formal work attire he wore, with a chuckle. His epaulettes, emblazoned with the sigil of the education guild sat with his satchel nearby. "The Capital can wait."
   "Thank you," Marina said, she kissed his hand and gave it a brief squeeze.. 
   "Let me take a look at you," Kal said with a  pointed expression. 
   "I hardly have a choice do I?" Marina sighed with a smile. 

   "None at all," Kal said, undoing the top few buttons of Marina's fatigues. He helped her slip out of her undershirt so as not to force her arms up too much and as it fell to her waist Kal drew in a sharp intake of breath with a hiss. 

  "Oh Marina...oh that's definitely not pretty .."
  "I haven't had the pleasure of a mirror, please be kind." She knew her ribs, stomach and forearms were badly lacerated and bruised but she'd not yet seen her back, and she doubted the results of her impact against the shipping container would be pleasant. 
   Kal snapped an image with his datapad and held it out to her. She looked at it, and couldn't help but smile.
   "Well, I am not surprised it itches a little," she said. Her entire back was one giant bruise. Shades of purple, black, red, magentas, and violets covered her almost from neck to waist. She let out a laugh which just made her ribs hurt more.
  "That's not funny," Kal said. "Promise me there's no lasting spinal damage? Or anything worse?"
  "My armour took most of it."
  "Then I'd hate to see your armour." He turned her face towards him, his expression serious, all humour gone.
  "How long are you going to do this?" he asked. She turned away. He forced her head around to look at him again and held it there. "Two years is all that's legally required, Marina. You've done ten."
  "I have a duty to serve -"
  "Yesterday was a close call, and not your first. And it's not going to be your last. How many more do you think you can...evade...before..." he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Instead, he lowered his hands to his lap, and looked down, with a sigh. Marina gently gripped his chin and raised his eyes to meet hers.
  "I am a good soldier," she said, hoping the sincerity came through.
  "So were the hoppers who died yesterday." He stood up, moving to the window. His words stung, but didn't sway her.
  "It's all I know," she said feebly. He whirled around to face her, his voice raised.
  "I'm not asking you to take voluntary discharge. I'm asking you to not work in the field anymore. You're a good soldier, yes, a good commander, the medals and promotions speak enough but there are other areas where you could serve just as well. Strategy, command, military liaison, military education - you could come and work at the Court with me."
   Marina said nothing, fearing no words would steer her back to calm.

   "Marina, I love you, I really do. Fiercely," Kal continued. "But our wedding is in six months. We've both discussed, at length, family, children. I would want our children to know their mother, not to come home from school one day to be met with...with...some generic hopper face telling them that she won't be coming home again. Or worse, to grow up never having known her at all! You've done your time."

    He was remarkably calm, composed even, despite her anger. Yet Marina knew the next words would tip him over the threshold into rage, and yet she had no other answer. She briefly stared down at the engagement band on her finger before she spoke. The band was simple, elegant, no stones or adornments
   "As long as I am out there on the waters, I can meet tiders face to face. I can carry on searching for -"
   "This is about him, isn't it? Still." His voice wavered with silent fury.
   "Eventually, someone will have infor-"
   "How do you know he's even still alive!" Kal exploded.
   "I don't!" she yelled back. "I've never claimed otherwise, but he has a history out there! He would have joined a vessel, he would have -"
   "He's gone, Marina. He's not coming back."
   "I owe it to Mother," she said. That got to him, Kal's fury wavered for just a moment.
   "You're obsessed," he said finally.
   "She was grief stricken, ridiculed. The woman whose loyal, celebrated hopper husband abandoned his duties to become a tider. I think I have every right to be obsessed. I owe it to her memory."
   "You'll get yourself killed chasing a memory. Chasing a ghost. Your life isn't out there. Your life is here, with me. Or perhaps you need to reconsider." Kal's eyes were full of tears, but she knew he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of crying. Instead, he picked up his things.
   "I'm needed in Court." And with that, he was gone, the door slamming behind him.
  Marina slumped back into the couch, more exasperated than angry. It was a discussion they'd had  before, and it always ended the same. Every time she survived a serious skirmish the same conversation would grow out of it like weeds in scrub. Marina argued that it was a game of odds, the minor engagements far outnumbered the life-threatening ones and most deployments would be a simple preventative or containment operation, or brief time-kill ground battles before air support could finish off the problem. It was uncommon that she ever felt in genuine peril, although she was no stranger to it. She was confident in her abilities, and in the abilities of her soldiers and superiors.
  But I was confident yesterday, before it went to hell. She let out a sigh. Perhaps Kal did have a point. She would talk to him tonight and weigh up the potential options for alternate stations she could work. She owed him that at least. 
  First though, work.

   She retrieved her datapad from her kitbag and synced it to the wall screen. She brought up her personal files and accessed the one marked DARIUS. Inside were documents, maps, military transcripts, audio files, clips of footage and a timeline that effectively stopped after the entry marked HOLMERS FARM 02-09-1362. Marina opened up a folder containing an index of known tider captains and ships. She opened the entry for Locke Goodman and in the currently empty ADDITIONAL NOTES box. She simply typed:
  07-05-1376 Engagement at First Province. Claims ignorance. No knowledge. Warrants further interrogation?
   She stared at the entry for a few minutes longer but could not think of anything else worth writing. Perhaps there was something worthwhile that Goodman had said, or not said, but Marina couldn't recall, she'd been heavily beaten and was operating under the effects of waning battle-stim.
   She closed the files and prepared to get some rest but paused as a small blinking alert appeared at the top of the vid-screen. It was marked with the official seal of the Hopper Force. He frowned and opened it.
   VOICE AUTHENTICATION REQUIRED read the flashing box that appeared.   "Commander Marina O'Reilly," she said, puzzled. "Service ID Whiskey-nine-nine-Juliet-five-nine"
  The authentication box vanished, and was replaced with a message that's text rested atop a larger version of the military seal. Marina read, her confusion, anger and worry tripping over each other for dominance with each sentence she read.

    Dear Commander O'Reilly,

 I am writing to you in regards to your recent physical exam as required annually by the District Military Medical Governing Body under section 2D of the Hopper Evaluation Legislation. 
  
  Upon further study of your submitted bloodwork (33-03-1376) it has come to our attention that there is an anomaly in the aforementioned samples. This anomaly has given us cause for concern, thus we would ask you to contact us in the most convenient method to make an appointment for further discussion and analysis. In the meantime, due to this unknown, and unforeseen outcome, the Governing Body have decided to suspend you from active duty until a more thorough assessment can be detailed. You will receive further information from the Admiralty detailing the nature of your suspension in due course.
 
  In the meantime, please do not hesitate to contact us in regards to your appointment, or to answer any queries you may have.  

   Your Sincerely
 
   Dr. Luciana Canhos MD HMD FcBD

   Justice, Ever Forwards

  Marina could only sit, momentarily dumbfounded. Suspended? She checked the date stamp on the message and found it had come to her personal server the previous morning. In the middle of the confrontation at First Province, she'd been so busy being shot at, fired at, soaked in other peoples blood and dealing with recovery and debrief ops that she'd had no time to check her messages. And yet, according to the letter hovering in front of her, she should technically never have been there at all.
   Weeks! Weeks they've had my results. The thought of something being wrong with her own body didn't even enter her head as she stared at the screen. She was too confused, too angry.  More delays in intel. More danger brought by bureaucracy. All thoughts of Kal and their argument evaporated from her mind, replaced by a single-minded focus on getting answers immediately.
  I'm not waiting for an appointment. They can answer me directly.
  It was time to pay a visit to Doctor Canhos.

                                                                                                                  


  She watches the Southern watch gate. Not directly of course, that would draw too much attention. She has a micro-lens installed in her purse, which is nestled on the bench next to her. It's pointing directly at the barracks entrance and the image is fed live to her datapad, that way she can pretend to read. She isn't though of course, she isn't here for leisure. She's here to watch. Here for the job. 
  The sun is getting high and the weather is warm. It's a beautiful day, maybe the last one that the Capital will have. The sun beats off of the stone and metal. It's hot. This is of no consequence to her, she's positioned herself in shade. The angle of the Outer Court Commerce building and its surrounding foliage has given her all the shade and seclusion she'll need. She won't be here long though, the target will leave the barracks soon enough. It's inevitable. It's in his nature.
  She adjusts the beret on her head, her hair is packed tightly underneath it, her legs hidden under the long but light skirt. Her eyes are hidden behind the shaded lenses of a sun visor. She wouldn't reveal herself yet, now wasn't the time to draw attention. Not the time to have drooling fools tripping over themselves to talk to her. 
  She sips from the flask of coffee next to her. Real coffee. It tastes good. It tastes even better here, in the Capital. The stonework, the sun, the skyline, the great solar towers, the air of invincibility. How silly they are. It's been a long time since she was here last - she'd looked much different then of course. She missed the Capital, but it wasn't the same anymore. She liked decadence, of course she did, her lifestyle was seeped in it, but decadence on her terms was a much more exciting way to live. 
  There he was! Leaving through the gate now. The target swipes his ID tag and scans his thumb to exit the barracks South Gate. Patience pays out. It always does. She was no stranger to the long game. She was a professional. A weapon. 
  She watches the target stop and talk to the gate warden, the briefest of exchanges. He is distracted, or not interested in pleasantries; from this distance she can't be sure. She watches as he heads along the outside of the barracks wall, making for the nearest thoroughfare. She won't follow, not yet. There's still time. She sips from her coffee once more, smiling. This will be so much fun.   
   
                                                                                                                 


    Marina lay in the reclining examination chair, waiting patiently as the bio-scanner finished creating a layered image map of her body. She watched on screen as her internal organs were slowly wrapped in nerves and tissue, the shifting colour patterns of heat and light dancing as the image flickered between the various layers of her internal make-up. Occasionally a small blinking dot was visible here and there – in her limbs, her spine, her feet - the scanner indicating her amp implants. Her fractured ribs meanwhile, were highlighted and circled as fragments of data sprung from them and joined the reams of information scrolling up and along the display as the scanner transmitted real time data to Doctor Canhos’s terminal. Canhos watched it all intently, her olive skin and black hair in stark contrast with the sterile whites and silvers of her uniform and the surrounding space. 
   Marina tried to relax and let the gentle hums and whirs soothe her but her mind wouldn't quiet. She had too many questions, too many worries. Canhos's letter had unsettled her, and her walk to the medical facility had only managed to exacerbate her concerns. She'd had enough time to run every question over in her head, to run every possible scenario that could spin out of each possible question's possible answer. Every possibility and outcome had fired at rapid speed though her thoughts, none of which were particularly helpful or calming.
   Canhos wheeled her chair over to where Marina lay. 
  “Just a few more seconds, Commander,” she waited patiently whilst the bio-scanner finished its imaging. She clutched an automated hypoderm in her hands and Marina could see a distorted version of herself reflected in its curved surface. Even the warped reflection couldn’t hide how exhausted and sallow she looked.  
   Canhos stood as a series of beeps emitted from the scanner, signifying the end of its cycle. She swung the machine aside and stood over Marina, activating the hypoderm.  
  “Another sample?” Marina asked. She indicated the two fresh puncture wounds in her left arm, each hiding under a small adhesive gauze pad.  
   "Those are for the lab,” Canhos said smiling. “This one I want to show you directly.” She pressed the hypoderm against Marina's arm and the canister immediately filled with dark crimson, a gentle hissing sound accompanying the rush of fluid. Canhos applied another gauze pad and returned to her desk. Marina started to sit up.  
 “No need to get up Commander, just take your time..” She inserted the canister into a smaller machine and tapped away on her terminal. The recliner chair slowly raised into an upright position and Marina felt momentarily lightheaded.. 
   Doctor Canhos tapped and swiped a few more items on her terminal and sent the data to a large clear plas-screen in the centre of the room. She then stood by it, formally, holding a datapad. She looked as if she was about to deliver a presentation.  

   “You look nervous, Doctor. Fear not, I’m not here to grade you.” Marina's attempt at humour was met with a hollow smile.  

   “You should be the nervous one Commander.” Her casual demeanour did not relax Marina, in fact it had the opposite effect. She could feel her entire body grow minutely more tense. Nervous?

  Doctor Canhos tapped her datapad and two images appeared on the screen. Marina saw that they were magnified blood samples. There, taking up most of the images floated the red blood cells, interspersed amongst them the white, and intermittently, some purple gelatinous things that she thought were perhaps plasma cells that gave the pictures a splash of colour. Her limited medical knowledge prevented her from identifying any of the other shapes and blotches that floated around the images. 

   “Commander, when was the last time that you had a required routine medical exam?” 

   “Last month, perhaps six weeks ago?” Marina couldn't recall the date stated on the letter, yet knew the question was redundant, Canhos would know the exact date and time.  

  “It was five weeks actually, and we thank you for attending. Well done.” She smiled. Marina appreciated her attempts to be jovial, but knew from the message and the further implications that she had cause for concern and that this was by no means a jovial matter. She wished Canhos get to the point.  

  “This image here,” Canhos pointed to the right of the screen. “Is your blood sample from that examination. The one next to it is your blood sample from last years examination. Do you see a difference?”  

  Marina looked, she couldn’t discern anything unusual or a particular pattern she should be looking for. However there were so many floating blobs of substance that she couldn’t be entirely sure what she was even looking for.  

  “It may not be immediately obvious but what I want you to look at, are these.” Canhos circled a cell with her hand, it grew in size amongst a new ream of data. It was one of many blackish blue cells that periodically seemed to jitter and jump.  “Do you know what this is?” 

  Marina did. Like all hoppers who first received news of their mutation, he’d had to endure a boring medical seminar that’s sole purpose seemed not to explain the mutation in their DNA but more to serve as some sort of soothing condolence lecture. Letting them know that although they may be scared, the mutation was as natural as breathing and that they should be excited by it, and embrace it. It had always seemed like an afternoon of oral propaganda to her and she wished they’d just spoken plainly.  

  “It’s a hopper cell,” she said calmly.  

  “Top of the class,” said Canhos. “Officially known as a Klempera-Takanaga cell. These are the cells that cause your body to generate its heightened static field. These are, put simply, the source of your abilities.” 

   “I’m aware,” Marina said, feeling the impatience in her voice. .  

   “We still don’t know what it is that causes the change in DNA that result in these cells, and we still don’t know why only approximately eight percent of the population present a high enough cell count to manifest an active mutation and ultimately, we still don’t know the evolutionary benefit of it -as without your implants to channel the static field, the mutation is not only useless but inherently damaging to the individual who presents it.”   

  “I’ve been through this Doctor, what is it I’m here for?” 
  Canhos reduced the image and allowed the two samples to dance on screen together once more.
 "What we do know is that the Klempera-Takanaga count in any individual's blood is a constant. It never changes, ever. In active hoppers it always sits somewhere in the region between seven to eight hundred thousand in any nought-point-nought five milligrams of blood. Any less and there are no effects on the individual, no static field, no abilities - just a plain old every day Lemurian. Actually, up to twenty percent of the population have a minimal count. However, no hopper, or anyone for that matter has ever presented a higher K-T cell count than around the eight hundred thousand mark. Until now.” 

  She zoomed out of the images, where many more cells now swam across the screen. 

  “Commander, look at these samples. Not only has your cell count increased since last year, your count is now sitting in the region of nine hundred thousand per drop.” 

  Marina could only frown. “What does this mean?” 

  “Honestly, we don’t know. A hopper's count never changes. Ever. Yours have not only increased but if we compare it to today's sample,” she fired up another image. “It’s continuing to do so. You’re a two-fold medical anomaly, Commander.”  

  Marina didn’t know what to think.  She wasn't sure if she should be worried or excited. Although the suspension suggested that it should be the former.  

   “What happens next, Doctor?” 

   “Impossible to say. Which is why we can’t have you out in the field. My first guess would be that an increase in cells would perhaps increase your body’s static field further, in which case if you tried to use your abilities your amps wouldn’t handle the strain and could either short circuit or internally rupture. If we turn off your amps, which I’m inclined to do, it may lead to a build up of bio-static that may unwittingly discharge causing you and others around you physical harm. That would be following the logical path of mutation progression, but that's speculation.” 
  "So what you're saying is, either option results in some sort of internal explosive damage?"
  "I don't know, Commander."

  Marina fell silent, taking it in, not just concerned but actively horrified.  

  “It could perhaps begin to alter your physiology, start to present physical changes, it could start to affect your organs -” 

  “Okay, stop.” Marina said. She kept as much calm in her voice as she could manage.  

  "Have you noticed anything unusual, Commander? Physical changes? Sensory issues?"

  "None." The word was out of Marina's mouth before she'd even considered the strange flash, or vision, or hallucination from the day before. The strange organic looking curved surfaces. The indistinguishable shapes and shadows. In the heat of battle it had been almost forgettable, but now it resurfaced with a strange sense of foreboding.   

  "Nothing I can recall," Marina said more firmly.

  “I’m sorry Commander but until we do further tests and detailed analysis, I can’t help you. On the positive, this could be a natural part of the evolutionary process. Evolution always starts with one single leap, one single change, this may just be nature's way of further preparing us for life here. In all honesty, it’s astonishing how fast this mutation presented itself in us since the Landing in the first instance. History logs the first hopper -” 

   “Four hundred years after the Landing, I know.” 

   “Commander, I want to help you. I want to get to the bottom of this, but you have to understand that medically you are a valuable asset. We need to learn everything we can from you, so that we can help you and anyone else this may happen to. We need to understand it better. You can see that, yes? If we start losing hoppers -” 

  “What do you need?” Marina relented. She was unwilling, but had spent the last ten years serving her nation. She didn’t know what else she could do, and if she couldn’t serve on the field, then she’d serve here in the lab. It seemed the logical conclusion. 

  “A monthly check in. At least to start with. Blood samples, scans, controlled tests of your abilities, that kind of thing. Do you agree?” 

   “I don’t have a choice do I?” 

  “Most likely not,” Canhos sat next to her. “Are you okay? I know this is strange.” 

   “It’s a lot to take in.” 

   “I understand that. Now though, comes the part neither of us want to do. I’m going to have to turn off your amps. Official suspension means no hopping at all.” She removed a small probe from her jacket pocket - a bio-amp switch.  

   Marina nodded solemnly, then slowly raised herself up, holding her chest for support. She turned her back to Canhos and leaned her head forward, it made the bruises and muscles in her torso ache.    

   She felt the top of the device press against her neck and heard a small beep.  

   “That’s it. Your amps are off. I’ll file the paperwork for the Admiralty and prepare consent documents for your tests. I'll send them over to your server.” 

   “Am I free to go?” Marina asked plainly. 

   “You are. I have to be clear - any instances of uncontrolled static discharge, you come back here immediately. Understand? 

   'I do," 

   Marina got up and left without another word, she’d never wanted to escape a room so desperately as she did right then.   


                                                                                                                      


      After an hour or so, the target has now arrived at the riverfront. He wears his own sun shades and a light jacket to protect him from the chill. He his handsome, well built. It won't be difficult for her to complete her job. It may even be pleasant.
  She is at a harbourside café, outdoors. She is unnoticed amongst the bustle and noise. The area is very cosmopolitan, very expensive. The target is at home here. He sits four tables away from her with a man and a woman; she knows who they are, it was part of her research into his movements. Like her, they are under an umbrella facing out towards the water, which looks beautiful. It would be easy for a less disciplined mind to become distracted by the glittering ripples and gentle noises. However, she is not so easily swayed. She faces outwards, only superficially watching the boats and dock activity. Some hoppers are running back and forth along a segregated strip of water. Training or showing off. It's no different. 
  Soon it will be time for her to become visible, to be noticed. Under the table, she is very slowly, and very gracefully removing the long skirt that covers her legs, underneath are the shoes and day skirt that she has selected very carefully. The top of her body does not move, she is well practised. Later, she will find time to discard the rest of the outfit, preparing her for the next stage of the job. 
  Tomorrow, the job will be complete. She will disappear. Leaving the Capital in ruins behind her. 

                                                                                                                            

 
 
   Marina wandered the cobbled streets of the city. She had no destination in mind, just the path that her thoughts led her down. Her feet unconsciously making the decisions for her, left down this alley, right under this archway, straight over this bridge. A few times she strayed on to the smooth lanes of tarmac and was met with the horns from carts or shouts of abuse from their drivers. She merely raised a hand in apology. 

 She had no idea how long she’d been walking as his pace was slow and he’d covered less ground than he normally would have due to the throbbing ache in his ribs which stabbed at his side with every step. His mind was elsewhere, and time was not currently a process he could comprehend. It was only upon leaving Doctor Canhos’ office and replaying the conversation in his head several times that the anger had subsided, now all that had replaced it was a deep sinking feeling that Marina couldn’t fully identify. She thought it was fear, although she refused to admit it. The suspension she could handle, the rules were the rules and her career was built on following them. She even understood Canhos and her team’s decision. She was now a liability, an unknown variable and that variable could cost her her own, or other people’s lives. This mutation however, wasn’t just an unknown variable, it was an unprecedented change in the status quo. There was so much that they still didn’t know about the hopper mutation, and in the six hundred years since the very first hoppers had emerged, no clear explanation could be given about the source of the mutation's origin and how it had emerged so quickly. Nature has its way, and homo sapiens needed to adapt to life on Lemuria. That was, as far all were concerned, that.

   If I’m never allowed back in the field, what then? Will I be stationed at HQ? At the barracks? Medically unfit for combat and reduced to administrative or command deskwork? There was only so much she could do in that area without the necessary rank, and without combat command avenues, she had no way of knowing if she could even progress. What if I’m discharged entirely? What then? What else can I do? We’re supposed to be getting married. 

  And there was the strange vision. A symptom of these unknown changes, or something unrelated entirely? Marina deliberately shifted her thoughts away from it and turned them to Kal, to her family, to her future. The irony of this news coupled with the morning's argument brought an unexpected smile to her face. Well, Kal wanted me out of the field. Looks like he's gotten her wish. Then however, her thoughts took a darker turn. What did the mutation mean for her life expectancy? The possibility of having children?  

   It could alter your physiology, start to present physical changes. The words from Canhos rang around her head like a buoy bell. That was what her mind kept coming back to. What could it mean? What would happen to her? If anything?  

   What if I grow gills? Or tentacles? What if the build up of bio-electricity causes me to simply explode? What if I crumble into pure energy? What if my organs and nervous system just shut down completely? What if I die a twitching and foaming wreck whilst Kal and our family watch helplessly?  

   Her chest suddenly felt tight, and not because of her cracked ribs, although it did make them hurt worse. She tried to bend over to catch her breath and found it hurt too much, so she stood against a pillar instead, breathing as deeply as she could, every intake of breath making her ribs twinge but she fought through it.   

   She closed her eyes and focused, trying to climb back out of her own head, then opened her eyes and stood, for the first time really noticing where she was. She’d somehow wandered into the Primrose Strip, a long thoroughfare of bars and restaurants that formed the central avenue in the city’s entertainment quarter. She was a long way from the Central Court and barracks. She’d walked over five miles as the crow flies, not to mention all the diversions and turns and aimless circling.  

   She laughed, surprised. She checked her watch, and found she’d been walking for almost three and half hours. It was late afternoon and sunset was due in less than an hour. She suddenly became aware of being desperately thirsty. Looking up and down the strip, she found most of the bars and clubs were still closed, signs dark and unwelcoming. She did spot a pub she was unfamiliar with about thirty metres away but couldn’t read its name. People were outside though, drinking, laughing, enjoying the last of the day's sun. She took a few steps towards it and stopped. 

  No, that’s not the answer, not now. If I start I won’t stop.  

   Instead, she crossed the street and headed for a small convenience stand built into the archway under a double-rise solar tower. She browsed the chill unit. 

  “Can I help you, Miss?” The man at the counter put away his datapad and stood, a welcoming smile adorning his face.  

   “Just deciding,” Marina replied. The various coloured liquids and slogans created a collage of indecisiveness, so she decided to settle on a plain bottle of water. 

   “That all?” the man asked. 

   “For now,” Marina fumbled in her pockets, looking for her wallet. 

   “You look somewhat pale, you alright?” 

   “I’m fine, thank you. Just a couple of cracked ribs.” Marina’s hands came up empty. “Damn.” She must have left her wallet in her kitbag back at the barracks. In her haste to leave for Canhos' she'd forgotten it.  

    “I’m sorry, I seem to have -” Marina was cut off as a hand reached over her shoulder and tapped a datapad against the sales terminal.

   “Allow me.”  

   The stall holders face lit up. “Mister Marvel!” 

   Marina turned, and sure enough, Ashe stood behind her, still holding out his hand, a bottle of green juice in the other. “If you don’t mind?” 

  “No, thank you,” Marina said. The stall holder took the money, flustered, and handed Marina the water. He started frantically rooting around for something under the desk. 

  “Mister Marvel, if you wouldn’t mind -”

  “I’ll save you the trouble my friend.” Ashe removed a pre-signed picture from within his jacket pocket. It was a promotional image from a wave-ball pre-game championship a few years prior. The stall holder took it, staring at it.  

  “Thank you, thank you, my son will love this! He wants to be a wave-ball player himself. He’s very skilled!”  

  “It’s no problem at all, and best of luck to him! You have a good day now.” Ashe ushered Marina away from the stand, excusing himself as quickly as he could. “With respect, Ma'am, you look horrific.” 

  “Thank you, Marvel. You know how to make a woman feel her best.”  

   They walked away from the stand, no particular destination in mind.  

  “How are you holding up, Commander? How’s the ribs?”  

  “The ribs are fine, as fine as can be.” 

  “I’m sensing a but.” Ashe replied, sipping his juice.  

   “But, it’s none of your concern,” Marina replied as casually as she could. She sat down on a bench and her feet thanked her for it. Ashe took a spot next to her.  

   “How was debrief?” he asked bluntly. “I’ve heard nothing from the Admiralty yet. Should I be expecting something?” 

   “Thinking of running again?” Marina said coolly. 

   Ashe was cold. “Not particularly. I’ll take my licks where due, Commander. I think you’ve got me all wrong.”      

   “I gave you my word, Corporal, I would do what I could. You seem to have Minister Suri on side, I would take that as a positive at least. Colonel Renshaw too.” 

   Ashe couldn’t help but smile. “Wow. Renshaw?” 

   “I’m sure they’ll have reached a decision by tomorrow. How are you holding up, Corporal? Off the record.” 

    “I was just on my way to grab a drink, truth be told. The first of many that would carry me into tomorrow, perhaps the day after too. Does that answer your question.” Ashe was solemn, no hint of a smile left on his face.  

  They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the first hints of gold gradually turning the waning daytime into dusk.  
  "If I was hard on you yesterday Marvel -"
  "Make no apology for it. It's yesterday. Today is today." Ashe's voice was neutral. Marina was unsure how to respond, so just sipped from her bottle.  

  “It’s looking to be a beautiful sunset,” Ashe said finally, lounging back on the bench.  

  “Certainly looks to be,” Marina replied. I may not see many more, if I end up confined to a lab.  

  “You know, Ma'am, this is the first time we’ve ever really spoken alone outside of work.” 

  “It helps to draw attention to it, Corporal,” Marina said, a small smile appearing on her face.  

  “Ah, she does have a sense of humour!” Ashe slapped Marina on the back, a tad too hard, it made her bruised back and ribcage sing with pain but she said nothing. Instead, she watched a small group of young women across the street occasionally looking in their direction, they seemed nervous or unsure, occasionally whispering or laughing. Ashe overtly pretended not to notice them, yet his lounge slightly turned into a showmans swagger.   

  “I’m not drinking alone tonight, a few of us are going. To forget, to remember, to mourn, whatever the reasons. You should come?” Ashe's tone was sincere.

  “I’m fine, thank you. That’s not how I mourn.”

  “No, you just brood instead. It’s not healthy, long term or short term. You shouldn’t be alone after yester-” 

  “I’m not alone. I’m heading home to my fiance. He’ll be waiting. and he’ll listen. He’s what I need right now.” Truth be told, Marina was hesitant to return. Although Kal would welcome her suspension, after this morning she feared the new developments would tear open the still fresh wounds.

  "Do I sense tension at home?" Ashe asked. He watched as the group of women cautiously approached.

  "First Province was a little close for his liking. Words were exchanged. I should try and make amends."

  “Or, you could let him simmer down tonight and tackle it tomorrow. He’ll still be there, and the day after. At least I hope so for your sake," he laughed. "Relationships, I don't know how people have the time."

  "No one special in your life, Marvel? I haven't seen anything in the news of late."

  Ashe ignored the subtle goad. Instead, he persisted with his olive branch.

  "I insist you come. It would do the troops good to see you there. Drinks are on me if it will sway you.” 

  “Friends of yours?” Marina gestured to the group of women, ignoring the branch.  

   “Duty calls,” Ashe bounced up. “Hello ladies, how are we all?” He strolled over, arms outreached in a welcoming but arrogant swagger, the women erupted into squeals and rushed over to him. He was suddenly engulfed in the gaggle.  

    The conversation was furious and high pitched. Ashe signed images and posed for photos, and tried to answer as many questions as possible. Marina watched it all, completely forgotten and completely invisible. She watched as Ashe was grabbed by a slender, athletic woman with a tangle of blonde hair, who pulled him in for a kiss as she held out her datapad for a photo of the moment. She held him there for a few seconds, causing the other girls to scream and laugh even more. When she let go, Ashe turned, shocked but not unhappy at all. His eyes caught Marina and he suddenly remembered where he was.

   “Tonight! The Swan Tavern! Be there!” he pointed and smiled before being accosted once more. Marina smiled, thankful she could be left alone with her own thoughts and space. Fame was not something she'd ever craved for herself. She stood up gently, considering. Maybe Marvel was right, she couldn't solve every problem by retreating into herself. And Kal will be there tomorrow. Perhaps she'd make dinner for them both and talk out a plan of action. After the last forty hours or so, she could use some R&R.  

   “I’ll think about it!” she yelled to Ashe finally, but wasn’t heard. The man was once more engaged with the thrall.  

  And I will, Marina thought. It wouldn’t hurt. What’s the worst that could happen?  

  She headed off, surprised to find that her spirits were somewhat lifted. Well who’d have thought? Ashe Marvel may actually be good for me.