Snippet: The Choice

So, I’m actually putting this post together not long after the one that went up on Monday. I’ll wait to post it, of course, if only to keep from overwhelming folks with words.

I posted, a while back, the first half of a scene. It was a scene I wrote seven or eight months ago, in fact. It was a scene that had no real place in the outline for The Silence That Never Comes, but rather was one that, I thought at the time, MIGHT end up in the second half of the story…

It was a scene setting up a choice — setting up the choice, in fact. That one choice that every hero has to have: the choice to be safe and leave evil to someone else, or to sacrifice everything for what they believe. That one choice you look at, when you reread the story, and scream at the protagonist, “Don’t be an idiot!”

The first half of the scene can be found here.

And the second half? Well…here’s the (unplanned, unedited) second half:

Talk about fucking cliches…

“Gee, thanks, Oz,” Connor muttered. “You got anything maybe, you know, helpful to add?”

Oz apparently did not, and the mental silence stretched for several moments.  A silence of fear for Connor, as he watched Mattie step down that hall, but a fear still touched by that uncomfortable, oh-so-dreaded, oh-so-needed sense of comfort from Oz’s ghost.

Mattie turned again, started back towards Connor.  “Jesus Christ, Connor.  If I was gonna fuck you over, I’d at least wait until you were too drunk to know better.  The guy who wants to talk to you, he just needs somewhere away from all the nuttiness around the stage.”

As Dalton had once said, Mattie was nasinec.  She was one of them.  Connor had been drowning in mistrust and suspicion for far too long — for most of his life, in fact — and maybe, just maybe, he thought, it was time to change that.  A shrug, then, and he took that first, all-important step down the corridor.

You could never take back the first step, no more than you could ever unmake a choice.

He followed Mattie through an unremarkable door, into an unremarkable room.  A few battered chairs, an even more battered table.  A coffee maker that looked like it had seen better centuries on the counter, and a small fridge rattling out the last of its life below.

“Connor, it’s good to meet you,” the man said as he stood from one of those chairs.  At first glance, he looked like every kamo Connor had ever worked.  A longer look, however, showed the subtle differences.  The air of slimy superiority so common to the Stationside takies was missing, as was the affectation and arrogance of the dirtside debil.  The cut and color of his clothes was just different enough to start Connor’s brain to working, and the accent…

The man’s accent was one Connor had not heard since the long days in Fadi’s company.

All of those observations took the barest heartbeat, and Connor’s reply as he shook the man’s proffered hand made him seem far more relaxed and nonchalant than he really was.  “Earther?” was all he asked.

A nod from the man, and a small smile as they all sat.  “Good ear.  Mattie was right about that,” the man said with a nod to Connor’s friend.  “I’m Jack Henry.”

Connor stared blankly.  What the hell was a Jack Henry?

A sigh from Oz, as amused as it was exasperated.  I swear, Spog, someday I’ll finally get you to listen to folks you ain’t scamming

“Shit, Connor,” Mattie said into the silence that followed.  “I told you about Jack.  He handles the artists for a touring and recording company back on Earth.  Now stop gaping like an idiot and start paying attention!”

I knew I liked her, Oz laughed.

“Although they went by their stage-names back then, I knew your friends Marie and Vin, Connor.  Way back when.  I was just a stage manager, and they were something special.”  A pause as he studied Connor, then, “I was sad as hell to hear what happened, but I see a lot of them in how you play.”

Vin’s shoes…Marie sobbing…the stench of blood and death…

Connor shook himself, grabbed hold of the demons and stuffed them away before they could overwhelm him.  If this svine wanted to put him at ease, he had just pushed all the wrong buttons.

A hint of Dockside on his tongue — just a hint — as he let all of the anger and resentment of the past year fill his voice, “So you know who I really am.  Fuckin’ great.  Congratulations.  I got exactly no time for this kuso.  Make your point, boss, or I walk the fuck out of here.”

He glared at Mattie, then, and his voice turned hot.  His Dockside accent became unmistakable, as did his anger, “You and me, we’re gonna talk about this little doji you just threw at me, baba.”

The man held his hands up as he responded with words that were slow and measured, just like you would use to calm an angry dog…or a small child throwing a tantrum.  “Easy, Connor.  I’m not a cop, and I’m not here to screw with you.  I mentioned those two because…well…they were my friends, too.”

Mattie was silent, her face crushed and tears touching her eyes.

Connor wasn’t sure what was worse, his dread that Mattie — one of the very few people he had been able to care about since Oz’s death — had betrayed him, or his certainty that he had just royally screwed up.

He was controlled again when he replied, and his voice offered no hint that he was anything other than a young dirtside professional living a life of privilege and wealth.  “The past is the past, and I’d rather not talk about it.  Now, how about we turn this little conversation to just what I’m doing in here.  And, Mr Henry, let’s shoot for some blunt honesty here.  Otherwise, this all will start to feel like something I might not like.”

Really?  You’re going with the sarcastic asshole persona?  C’mon, Spog, you’re smarter than that.  Think about it; why would Mattie sell you out?  You know her.  You like her.  You have to remember that not everyone is out to screw you, or you’ll end up right back where this all started.

Connor winced.  Trust Oz to cut through to the heart of matters.  A small part of Connor wanted to point out that Oz himself had once been the betrayer, but far too well did he know just how much pain and misery Oz had suffered — and the price he had paid — to ever touch on that subject.

“It’s that one word you used, actually,” Henry said, his voice interrupting Connor’s internal debate.  “Boss, you called me.  That’s what I’m offering.”  He opened a screen and spun it gently across the table to Connor.  “You’re too damned good for this crap system.  It’s not a full deal, not yet, but I want to bring you to some of the bigger places.  Sanctuary, Pavonis, maybe even Centauri.  You’re ready for more, Connor.  A year or two to tour and develop yourself, then I think you could really make a splash back home.”

Back home?  Earth?  Holy shit, Spog… Oz spluttered, at a loss just as much as was Connor himself.

To leave Redux and never return…

To make a life of music…

To be real

An ikiryo was never speechless.  Right or wrong, an ikiryo always had something to say.  Connor’s tongue wouldn’t work, however, not anymore than would his fingers.  Nerveless hands tried to pick up that screen, failed.  The shaking that was in his fingers moved up his arms, took over his entire body.

Thoughts of playing — dreams, really — chased themselves through his mind.  Little had he known, all those years ago when Vin had first pressed that guitar into his hands, just how much the music would come to mean.  Little had he known that first night playing at Peeber’s just how much of his own soul would go into the music.

Little had he known…

Little had he known how deeply he would become involved in the corruption and avarice that defined life on Redux.  Little had he known just much the fight against those screwing up the universe would come to mean to him.  Little had he known how personal it would all become.

Little had he known…

He stared at the screen on the table.  The words were unintelligible, unreadable, but that didn’t matter.  He knew what they offered.  They offered a way out.  They offered peace and security…at the expense of giving up the fight he had begun to wage.

All he had to do was accept and he could get away.  All he had to do was accept and his life would change.  But the lives of those he left behind?  The lives of Dockside and the Station, just as much as Redux?  Those lives would remain behind, unchanged.

Think about this, Spog…

Body or soul, Oz, he answered silently.  Which do I choose?  If I choose to be safe and real, I can’t affect anything here.  Not if I leave.  I’ll save my body, but only if I abandon everything else.  What happens to what’s left of my soul after that?

Someone else could do it, you know.  You don’t have to save the whole damned universe, you just have to save yourself.

Who, Oz?  Who else can do it?  I have the access to the systems.  I know what’s happening.  I can be a part of the solution…or I can be safe and happy.  I can’t do both, so how do I choose?

A hand on his arm, warm and gentle.  Mattie’s voice was quiet, knowing without words what he was thinking, “We’ll manage, Connor.”

“I can’t,” he whispered in a voice even he was barely able to hear.

He looked up, then, away from those unintelligible words that promised so much.  His voice became louder, if no more steady, when he met Henry’s eyes, “I can’t.  I have too much going on to leave.”

Henry’s eyes showed the honesty of his surprise.  “This isn’t an open offer, Connor.  There’s no changing your mind.  You’re good, but I have to leave first thing in the morning and I can’t wait on you.  It’s yes or no, and it’s yes or no right now.”

Connor stood and looked at Mattie rather than Henry when he answered, “I can’t.  Things here…things here matter too much to leave.”

The tears in Mattie’s eyes started to fall at his answer.

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