Episode 53

(Frankfurt, February 21, 2002)

[Author’s Note: We're three weeks before Rin's encounter with Karkov in episodes 51-52.]

Daryl often wondered why Rin had told him the story of the Crafter backward, but he never raised the subject. Although he didn’t relish a repeat, he was not particularly deterred by the five year exile imposed on him the last time he did so. Nor did the indelicacy of pursuing the topic in the face of Rin’s obvious reticence bother him. No such compunctions hindered his other lines of inquiry, and she was just as touchy about those.

The reason he did not ask was simple: he knew it would be pointless. When it came to other things, Rin often was evasive or angry or sarcastic. But she clearly was evasive or angry or sarcastic. In this case, she simply had lied. If Sree hadn’t let it slip, he still would not know the truth.

There was something different about this subject. Ignorance wasn’t enough. Rin actively wanted to deceive him. What baffled Daryl most was the nature of that deception. This wasn’t a lie which made her look good. Quite the opposite, she came off as the villain — and a particularly detestable one at that.

If Rin went to such lengths to hide the truth, she must have a strong reason. Daryl doubted this was something he could overcome through perseverance or grit. Worse, she very well could lie again and he would have no way of knowing. She clearly was quite skilled at it.

In fact, the only reason Daryl didn’t doubt everything she had told him was because of Karkov and Sree. They both had reacted with surprise to the story when he repeated it, even though Karkov made no effort to correct it and Sree only did so accidentally. However, neither had reacted when he shared the other things Rin told him. Perhaps Karkov just was unhelpful and Sree just was wary after her initial misstep, but he doubted it.

This led him to believe that the rest was more or less true. Even the story itself hadn’t been a complete fabrication. Rin simply had swapped her and Karkov’s roles. That felt more like an impromptu decision than a carefully-planned subterfuge. Otherwise, she probably would have muddied as many details as possible. Of course, the best lies were those closest to the truth because they were the easiest to maintain. He had read something to that effect in one of the intelligence training manuals back home.

Risking a rift to pry an answer of dubious value from Rin would be foolish. Even if she told the truth, he always would suspect she hadn’t. And there were much more pressing truths he needed to coax from her.

Besides, it didn’t really matter at this point. What did matter was Rin’s inane plan to defeat Karkov. And — to Daryl’s thinking — ‘inane’ was a very generous description.

Once again, Rin had spread papers all over the table. And once again, Daryl failed to see how they related to the mission. She did this every time, and he had yet to see her make use of them. Maybe she just wanted to create the appearance of organization.

Was she trying to foster a military atmosphere for his benefit? If so, it was laughably inaccurate. Any planning sessions Daryl had been part of involved food, drink, and lots of dirty jokes. The one thing they did not involve were papers. She probably had adopted this from some television show, and he did not trouble to correct her. Papers and props weren’t what bothered him.

What bothered Daryl was that Rin’s plan made no sense whatsoever. He explained this to her whenever he needed more bruises. Accustomed as he had become to such behavior, sometimes he wished that he and Rin could speak like adults. Like those smiling parents on a box of cereal, at least before their kid ended up on the neighboring milk carton.

It would be nice to have a regular conversation, a sequence of statements that went in a straight line from A to B, without countless detours into violence, insult, and irony. It would be less interesting perhaps, but more informative. Information was good when it came to things like the present plan. Information could keep them from getting killed. No, information could keep him from getting killed. Unfortunately, information was in short supply.

Daryl had not given up. He had learned there were certain times and certain ways to tease information from Rin. These depended heavily on her mood and his questions.

Though it often felt like it to him, they didn’t always fight. That would have been unsustainable, at least to one of them. Between the unpredictable and violent episodes which punctuated their relationship, there were long periods of relative tranquility.

It was during these that Daryl had the best success gleaning information. That was how he had learned a number of things regarding Rin and the immortals. Sometimes, his questions — having fulminated for days or weeks in the back of his mind — asserted themselves without notice. This often resulted in a great deal of unpleasantness, but there also had been some notable successes. On those occasions he had managed to pry real answers from Rin — or at least as close to real answers as he was likely to get.

One thing he gained a better understanding of was the purpose of Rin’s mission. He had asked about this before, way back when she first had spoken of serving the gods. While the question didn’t evoke a rebuke at the time, neither did it elicit a meaningful explanation. Now, he was able to get a bit more out of her.

It began like every one of these conversations: with a sharp look and a probing question. Sensing that Rin wasn’t overly temperamental at the moment, Daryl ventured a bit more.

“Why are you doing this?” he wondered aloud from bed as she sifted through the documents.

Rin looked up. It wasn’t an angry look, just a curious one.

“I thought we both were doing this for the same reason? Did you wish to try something new?”

Daryl couldn’t help but laugh at her earnest tone. “No, it’s a real question,” he insisted. “Why are you doing this?” he gestured at the room.

Rin raised her eyebrow, apparently unsure what to say. “Because it’s cheap? Did you want to stay some place fancy? If so, you should go work for my twin sister Lin. She’s just like me but gives a shit what you want. You can find her by shoving your head in the toilet and calling out her name.”

Daryl rolled his eyes but barely was able to repress a chuckle. With an air of exasperation, he elaborated. “Hunting the immortals.”

This was the moment of truth. Either Rin would grow sullen and unresponsive or angry and violent. To his astonishment, she did neither. She just exhaled. It was a telling exhalation, a calm wind, speaking limitless forbearance and none of the sentiments he apprehended.

For some reason, it made Daryl wonder what it was like to be her. To greet each day knowing there would be another, that following every breath there would a next. What if immortality didn’t simply mean freedom from pain or fear? What if there was an itch that could not be scratched and never would be, with no hope of remission. Ever. And what if it wasn’t a mere itch, but a pain? Wouldn’t any pain, however small, in time grow intolerable? Wouldn’t anything? He looked at Rin and saw no sign of any of this. But would he?

Her voice roused Daryl from his reverie.

“I told you, the gods commanded it.” There was no impatience in her tone, as if she knew her answer to be mere preamble and that Daryl would not be content with it. Or maybe she wanted to tell him. He suspected that he really had no influence on Rin, that for all his analysis there were no good or bad times to ask something. Just the time when she was planning to tell him anyway, and all the times she was not.

He felt like a man standing outside a door, demanding that it open. If the man shouted long enough, the door eventually would open. Did it do so because of the man’s persistence, or because somebody happened to open it? Well, now that it was open, he was going to enter. At least that much he could do.

“Yes, but why?” he persisted.

With a superior air, Rin scoffed. “Are you questioning the will of the gods?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

She smiled. “Oh, ok. Just checking. For a moment, I thought you were being impious and insolent. But then, I thought ‘hey, how can a tiny insignificant louse be insolent?’ It’s a good thing, because I was about to stomp on it.”

“You scratch a louse, not stomp on it,” Daryl pointed out, eager to get through the irritating and unavoidable preface to anything interesting. At least he hoped it was a preface.

Rin seemed surprised. “You really are asking?”

Daryl nodded.

“Since when does a soldier ask questions?”

“Since he’s not your soldier. Let’s not forget that I pledged no loyalty to you, and you’re not paying me. I’m a teammate, not a servant.”

Rin slowly walked over and sat next to Daryl, bringing her lips very close to his own. “Ok, colleague. Since we’re equals now, you can’t be worthless anymore or that would mean I’m worthless too. So get off your worthy ass, comrade o’ mine, and make your teammate some goddamned coffee.”

In response to Daryl’s deadpan expression, she slumped onto the bed.

“Fine, be that way,” she pouted. “But I may fall asleep before answering unless you give me some coffee.”

“You don’t sleep,” Daryl observed.

“No, I don’t,” she grinned. “Which should make you all the more worried when you do. Can you imagine all the things that may happen to you? Especially if you piss me off before going to bed.” She gave him an earnest smile. “Heck, maybe even if you don’t. All night alone can get so boring. I have to do something to pass the time …”

Suddenly, Rin popped back up on her elbow. “It’s true, though. You never did swear loyalty to me, and I don’t pay you. What, oh what, can I do to convince you to cooperate?” She gently tweaked her nipples as she said this, blinking suggestively.

“Ooh, I know,” she beamed, before Daryl could respond to the spectacle. “I could let you live. The gift that keeps on giving. Until it doesn’t.”

She glowered at him. “Is that payment enough?”

With a long-suffering look, Daryl just shook his head.

“But, you did raise a good point,” Rin observed, ignoring his silence. “Let’s get that oath of loyalty. After all, how do I know I can trust you without an oath of loyalty?”

Daryl raised his arm with an air of ceremony. “Ok. I swear to do what I want, when I want, how I want.”

Rin clasped her hands together. “Excellent, as long as ‘what I want’ means ‘whatever the goddamned hell Rin tells me to.’”

“The question …” Daryl prompted.

Suddenly, Rin seemed embarrassed. “I, uh forgot it.”

Daryl deemed this unlikely, but repeated it anyway.

“Ah, that. Well, fine. Because I’m in a good mood, I’ll tell you. I’ll try to keep it simple, but don’t blame me if you’re too dumb to understand.”

Getting no reaction, Rin sighed.

“I told you I did something I shouldn’t have. That’s why I have to undo it. Well, that and because I’m the only one who can. But I suppose that doesn’t tell you why it needs to be done at all. The existence of the Proteges is fundamentally problematic. I didn’t suspect this until long after I started making them, and I didn’t fully understand why until long after that. Not until science had developed quite a bit.”

“Proteges place a burden on the universe. Each imposes constraints which must be obeyed. The more constraints the greater the deviations from normality necessary to accommodate them. The more Proteges, the greater the burden and the greater the risk. Put simply, I added something to the world which does not belong here. That never can be good.”

Daryl waited for more, but it became increasingly clear that Rin had said her piece. After nearly a minute of silence, he decided to prod her for more detail. There was something she wasn’t saying.

“There’s more to it than that,” Rin added before he could ask. “But that’s all I’m going to say. It’s also all I can say to somebody without a PhD in physics and who doesn’t know far more about the Proteges than you ever will.”

“A PhD in physics? I thought this was from before such things existed.”

“Well, Daryl, this may come as a surprise to you but physics has always been around. We just didn’t know much about it until recently.”

“I meant the PhD.”

She smiled. “Yeah, and it wouldn’t help to have one anyway. But I needed to pick something you’d certainly never have.”

Daryl smiled. “I’m flattered you had to reach so high.”

Rin broke into a cruel smirk. “You think that’s high? What an interesting conceit. Is there anything lower than somebody who imagines he knows something?”

“Somebody who imagines the gods spoke to her?” The retort emerged of its own accord, and Daryl was sure it would end her good mood and earn him some black and blue, or at least a welt. To his surprise, she smiled.

“You think I was speaking metaphorically about that, perhaps? Or maybe that I’m deluded? No, it was both literal and real. I don’t imagine I know something. I know that I know something. But that knowledge is not the fruit of my own genius. It is the work of others, infinitely greater than I. I acknowledge this and am humble.”

Before he could stop himself, Daryl exploded into laughter. His heaving shook the whole bed.

“Geez, thanks for the faith,” Rin pouted, rolling to face away from him. It amused Daryl that one who dished it out so readily could be so touchy.

“Sorry,” he whispered in her ear.

“I tell you what,” Rin offered without turning. “Swear loyalty to me, declare yourself not just my servant but my slave, apologize for your insolence, and use every ounce of yourself to make it up to me, and I may forgive you.”

Daryl did only one of those things but got no complaints.