Moon/La Lune (Michael)

Maybe I was in San Francisco but I'd left my heart somewhere else. Somewhere in Genefex. Nikita, who are you? I didn't know her any more. She roughly approximated the Nikita I had known, but now she acted all together different. Ruthless. Efficient. Brutally logical. I found myself missing all those irritating last-minute questions, the why's she'd toss at me. She was like something photocopied a millionth time too many, blurred around the edges, barely resembling the original Nikita. She was a stranger with a familiar face. And then, I had tried to tell her on the beach. But she had run away from me. That had been the worse of all.

I could still see it: Nikita jumping up, the sand flying out from under her feet and slapping my face. And me, powerless to stop her. "But it's the truth," I remembered saying as I had watched her run like a gazelle from a lion. Huge loping steps up, then down the dune, down until she seemed to disappear - legs, shoulders, head - as if the ground had swallowed her whole. Nikita had run from the truth. Had run from me.

She had run frantically. Fast. Just like the school children were doing now between the aisles of the old planetarium. I listened to them yell as I settled back into my wooden seat in the back row. Slowly the lights dimmed and the constellations on the curved ceiling began to twinkle. I picked out the familiar ones: Cassiopea, the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper. Polaris the North Star. I wondered if Nikita remembered, if she could still find it. I think I was the only one looking at the ceiling, because all around me, the children continued to chatter even though the docent had begun his lecture.

Someone slid into the chair next to mine. " 'loha, Mikey."

I didn't have to turn to see who it was. No one else dared to call me that. And that joking baritone identified Kanahele in a second. He was the only person in the world who made me feel slow. The only person who had almost taken Nikita away from me. Who still could. I was crazy to ask for his help again. I was desperate.

I tapped my wristwatch. "Late."

His answering grin flashed in the dark. "Nope. Not by my clock. Yours must be early. Hey, when I got your message, you coulda knocked me over with a Twinkie. Long time, no see. What gives?"

Merde. He was going to make me say it. Make me ask for help out loud. I could not. But I had to. It was not just for me. It was for Nikita. For both of us.

"Uh huh. No kidding?" continued Kanahele as if I had spoken. "You don't say. Really, you don't. Well, I heard you were getting all your ducks lined up in a row. Heard you've been chatting George up. What a nice fat duck. A Brit duck. Quahwck quahwck, not quack quack."

"Who said?" I asked softly, sharply.

"Hey, hey, no worries. Operations doesn't have a clue. Neither does our Divine Miss Maddy. But I don't think you have to worry about her."

"Worry? She ordered Nikita's processing."

"Processing! I like that. What a delightfully quaint phrase. Like white flour? Refined sugar? All smooth, bland, the protective covering removed. Absolutely no flavor. No nutritional value ..."

"Kanahele," I interrupted.

"All right, all right. I think it's more accurate to say that Madeline went along with the order. She didn't stop it. She couldn't. But it wasn't her idea."

"I do not trust her."

"No, that's wise. It's too early to tell. Madeline only serves herself. Damn woman always lands on her feet no matter how she falls. You gotta admire that especially in our line of work 'cuz when you wipe out, you don't get a second chance. You're splat. Road-meat. Scrape off and ship out, y'know what I mean? But I betcha didn't call me just to yak about Madeline. In fact, I'm ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent sure, because what would be the point of that? After all, you can just peek at that chick's files. I gave you her access codes. Punch in, presto, and hey! You can walk in and out of her files like it was the public library if you wanted to. Can't afford the niceties of protocol right now. Nuh uh."

"No."

"Okay dokey. So if it's not that, then it couldn't be just-the-guys hanging out, is it? 'Cuz I gotta tell you, Mikey, the location's kinda weird for that. Shouldn't we be at a football game or swinging a few at a batting cage or ... I know! How about roller derby? That's a lotta fun. Simone used to like that, but you ... naw, you always used to be working." Cocking his head to one side, Kanahele drummed his fingers against his lap for a moment. After a second or two, he finally stopped and shrugged. "Well, I dunno. You got me. Whaddya want?"

I took a deep breath. "It's Nikita."

He chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Isn't it always?"

"You were right. Long ago you were right. I was being selfish. Should have let her go. Then she might have left Section when she had the chance. Then none of this would have happened."

"Your fault then? Nikita's a zombie because of you?"

"Yes." My hands fisted. I steeled myself, ready for his attack, willing to accept my punishment. But none came. For once, he was strangely silent.

Kanahele's lips were pursed as if he were thinking of a million things at once and discarding them just as rapidly. After a long moment, he seemed to reach some conclusion. He bobbed back and forth. "W-e-e-e-ell, you're right ... and you're wrong."

My head jerked up. I turned and examined his shadowed face. I expected to see false sympathy, platitudes, but instead there was only exasperation.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that? You wanna whip yourself and be a martyr? Again? Fine. Do that. Be Saint Michael. Suffer the slings and arrows. Go on. Just do it. But on your own time. Not now. There's Nikita to think of."

"That's all I do think of."

"Good. Glad to hear it. Because this all happened on your watch. Tell me. What really happened at Genefex? I saw those doctored tapes. Can't tell a thing by them."

"They snatched her there and reprogrammed her. They did this ... this unspeakable thing to her. To break us up. Forever."

"Ehrrrrrr!" His hand swung forward and down as if he were pressing a game buzzer. Then he jerked his other thumb over his shoulder. "Strike Three. Yo-o-o-o-ou're out! Nuh uh. Nope. Sorry, but I don't think so. It seems damn odd to me. There are a million easier ways to split a couple. Introduce someone else. Transfer to a different Section. A convenient accident. I think there's more to it than that."

"Like what?"

"You know what they did to us. How they turned us into frigging freaks."

I thought of Adam and shuddered. My poor son. Maybe we were not related genetically but in all the ways that were important, he was my child. Wherever I went, I thought of him. I loved and feared for him, just as I feared that I may have more "children" that I did not know about. Like everyone else in Section, my genetic material had been harvested and stored. How I prayed that Section had never used my genes to make those manipulated abominations in their laboratories. And if they did exist, then I prayed that those children, as well as Adam, escaped the same fate as mine and Kanahele's and Nikita's. What we had suffered through, no one else should. No one else should have to live with that poison inside them. Every day I guarded against that evil inside of me just as I did what I could to safeguard Adam. But I was so afraid that it would not be enough. There must be a God somewhere, someone who watched over small ones. Let Him watch over mine. Let Him watch over all of them.

They were all someone's children, I thought sadly as I watched the kids around us tease each other and talk. They were poking each other and passing notes. Spitwads flew like meteors. Kanahele sent one back. He chuckled for a moment. "Boy, oh boy, just makes me wanna have one. A little someone to play with. Show them the fun side of nothin'. That would be so-o-o slick. Can you believe it? Me? A daddy? Hee!" Chuckling even louder, he laced his fingers together behind his head. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs into the aisle. "Any old way, that's neither here nor there. Back to you and Blondie. You've known her 'bout as long as me. Only, how much do you know about Nik'? The real Nik', I mean."

"I was her trainer." And her lover. I knew every smile. I knew what every inch of her tasted like, smelled like. The little things that made her happy, what saddened her, how she chased my sadness away. I knew the sound she made when she gave herself to me; the sleepy weight of her in my arms. I knew all these things about her. I missed them all. "I know she'd been renegade for too long. So they trapped Nikita, forgave infractions, brainwashed her. They wanted her back under control. They wanted to see if they could do it."

"Yup, that's the way I figure it. That's exactly what they wanted, all right."

"Her mother used some old CIA connections to find Nikita again. They followed that trail. But what about her father?" I asked. "Never traced him. Must be CIA."

"Naw, he was MI-Six. Was. Very much 'was'. Agent Double-O Twenty, Nicholas Jackson Wirth. Deceased."

Right. I had heard that one before. Death meant many things. A chance to turn into a corpse, or perhaps, a living ghost like us. "How dead?" I asked cautiously.

"Ohhhh, pretty darn dead. I'd say about as dead as you can get when you take a flying leap out of a third story window. Remember how the Agency goofed around with hallucinogenics? Wirth was another experimental casualty. They sprinkled too much high-grade LSD into his coffee, and Jack Wirth had what you might call an adverse effect. Heard voices. Thought he was going nuts. Completely psycho. Cured himself the only way he knew how. Suicide jump. That ended up breaking Bobby, but she knew enough to try to get Nikita away. You might judge Bobby harshly, but she did look after Nikita in a fashion. Hid Nikita, but it cost her. Cost them both. Easier for Bobby to drink than to think after that. I mean, who would want to live with that nightmare?"

"The ones who hurt Nikita. Does she know they weren't Bobby's boyfriends? Turns out they were her trainers all along. Lessons, systematic punishment, few rewards. Like in those prison camps. Jèsus! It doesn't really matter who abused her. I know them. George gave me their names. Every one." The more I thought about it, the more the anger turned into hot rage. It pumped through me like a fire, making my heart pound, my head feel hot and heavy. I was ready to do something, blow them all away. One lousy bastard after another. No. I should kill them slowly, some way incredibly painful. I knew how. Maybe a day for every year of misery they'd caused. Let them suffer until they begged for their deaths. Use all my lessons on the teachers. Oh, I wanted to do it. I would do it. I had promised myself. A vendetta. It would be for Nikita. It would be for me. That promise appealed to me, seemed even sweeter than Fraises Haribo. I could almost taste it already.

"You know, I had the same impulse. Revenge. Yeah. That seemed real perfect at first, but you can't do it."

"Try and stop me." My face pulled into something that resembled a smile, something sub-zero. I could feel it settle on me like a stiff mask, a mask that I was used to wearing.

Kanahele struck his forehead and groaned. "That is so-o-o-o-o like you. Think, willya? Forget the raging bull act. They'll just mount your head on the wall or worse. Far worse. Listen up, Mikey. You can't kill them. Most of them are dead. The ones that are still alive ... Well, they're hardly worth the trouble. Anyways, Nik' doesn't need a dead hero. She needs you. Alive. Plus, she doesn't care about revenge. She cares about life. She's a survivor."

"A miracle."

"Yeah. She's that all right. This last episode is nothing compared to what Blondie suffered as a kid. What we all suffered."

We sat there quietly for a long while, even Kanahele. All around us, the school children talked, launched and ducked rubber bands, ignored the docent's lecture about the Milky Way. Someone was pushing someone else. They were all acting like real children should act, even that little boy down the row from me. He looked about Adam's age and he was snoring loudly. His arm flopped over the side of the chair, his shoelaces untied just like Adam's usually were. The sleep of innocence. I had never been that innocent. I started feeling a little sad and tired.

But not Kanahele. His mouth was pulled back into his usual grin. He even chuckled while a teacher threatened a someone with detention after school. Detention? That was nothing. We'd endured much worse when we were children. We had been taught things. Horrible things. Things children shouldn't know. No one should. No one should see that face of evil. I frowned.

"Yuh-oh, it's that bogey-man look. Watch out, world. Here comes Mad, Mad Mikey. You're kinda scaring me, y'know. Maybe I'll move over a seat. Or howsabout this?" He made circles with his hands and stuck them in front of his eyes. "Hey, hey, now I'm wearing glasses. You can't hit anyone with glasses." Just as suddenly, his hands dropped into his lap and he chuckled until he saw the look I gave him. Then he pulled a mock sober face, chuckling even louder for awhile. It was much too long before he quieted down again. Three-point five seconds to be exact. Fortunately for Kanahele, I am a patient man.

"Aw," he muttered at last, "You are so easy. Really, you are. It almost takes all the fun out of it. Almost but not quite. Too bad for you, huh? But seriously, Mikey, what the heck are you going to do about Blondie now? She's not the same chick. She never will be. Do you still want Nik' now? The real Nik'?"

"Of course! More than ever." My poor Soleil. "I must help her. We must."

"Uh, she may not need as much help as you think. Why don't you ..."

"Of course she does," I snapped. What was he talking about? I was not going to sit and do nothing. Nothing was not an option. I had waited long enough. Time was not healing anything. She walked past me as if I were a stranger. Maybe a polite hello in the corridors. Every day it seemed worse. It was damnable. "I've already turned off the satellite's remote control. Her program's off-line. Nikita is blank now. This is the most dangerous time. She is completely vulnerable. Of course she needs my help. My protection."

"Mmm-hmmm. We-e-e-ell, maybe you should listen to my advice this time. Last time, you ignored it and ..."

And the consequences had been fatal, I thought, remembering my first encounter with Glass Curtain. A week before that mission, Kanahele had disagreed with my analysis. He had said they were more dangerous than we realized, and had redesigned an alternative profile with Simone. A plan with more safeguards, backup teams. A profile that differed from mine. I had been irritated. Yes, and jealous. I admit it now. Simone had always talked to him, telling him things that should be between husband and wife. Private matters. And during the Vachek mission, she had relied on her friend even more. So when she had proposed the other profile, I had not wanted to hear another thing about Kanahele. I had refused and Simone had paid the price of my arrogance.

Was I repeating my same mistake? I stared at the tall glib man who had saved my life; who I had once called my friend; the man who had tricked Section so that Simone and I could marry; who had served as Simone's "man of honor."

Kanahele scratched the back of his head. He gave an exaggerated shrug. "I don't know, Mikey. You tend to underestimate Nik'."

It had been my fault. With Simone. And now with Nikita. All along I had followed those need-to-know rules, had thought that too much information put Nikita at risk. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe ignorance was the bigger danger. Maybe half the trouble was that I had been over-protecting her. Building higher fences didn't always keep someone out. Sometimes it just made the climber climb higher, only to fall farther instead. Do something more dangerous.

"You may be right," I said softly.

He turned to me slowly and let his jaw drop. His hand struck one side of his face. "Uh, what? What did you say?" Kanahele inserted a finger into his ear, then wiggled it around, pretending to clean it. "I can't believe I heard that. That's gotta be one for the books: us agreeing on anything. No way, Jose. Whaddya think are the odds of that ever happening again? Maybe gazillion to one. At least. Ha ha. Well, all right-y. I guess that about wraps it up. Before I go, I gotta ask you though. I just gotta ask you ... Exactly when did you turn off her programming?"

"Three day ago."

"Three? Are you sure? Of course you're sure. When are you not sure? But that was way before I ..." Kanahele broke off, slapping his knee, and laughed softly about Julia Child or something.

I lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, here's the thing. You're not gonna believe it, but she's got whisks coming out the wazoo. And copperbutt pots and these weirdo knives that turn tomatoes into roses. It's kinda scary. I'm not kidding you. The chick's still cooking. Even after you switched off the mind-control program. How about that, huh? Wingnuts sprout! Nik's always been her own woman. Kinda like Teflon. Maybe none of that reprogramming stuck. Well, maybe most of it. I know you don't believe me, but ... I guess you'll find out on your own. Good luck. I'll be in touch. Got to catch the next ride. Va-Voom." Kanahele slid out of his seat and into the aisle.

He was starting to walk away when something made me speak. "Wait."

Kanahele turned back, looked expectantly at me.

"Why?"

"Why what? Why help? Don't insult me, Mikey. You figure I have a clean field with her now that you're out of the picture? Why not make the most of my chance? Zero competition. Sorry. I'm not interested in this game. Even if I was, I'm not the one who Nik' wants. She seems to want you."

Not that I could tell. Her polite conversations were killing me a little at a time. Every day I was feeling more discouraged. And at the beach. That had been even worse. If Kanahele was right and her programming had never worked, then that meant my worst nightmare was true. Nikita - the real Nikita - didn't love me any more.

"Can you imagine? Passing up a real prize like me? Women. Go figure," Kanahele was saying in usual half-mocking tone. "Oh well. As if you didn't know she's never been interested in me. Not that way. I'm like her punk brother. Always have been. Always will. Mikey, I gotta say you have your brighter moments but this is not one of them. About this, you're a big dope. Real big. Oh well. I probably would bat as bad as you if it came to ... uh, never mind." He tilted his chin, then laughed softly as if he suddenly thought of something else. "Hey, there. One last question for the road. Do you really eat Nikita's cooking?"

Not if I can help it."Of course," I lied.

Kanahele looked admiringly at me. "Boy, oh boy. You're even braver than I thought. You must really love her after all."

Yes, I must. But permanent indigestion would be a small price to pay for having her back. "And you?"

"What about me?" he laughed.

"Are you happy?"

He looked taken aback, then after a moment, shrugged. "Yeah, sure. You know me. Got a good board. Good gig. Hey, just go with the flow."

"No. I mean with DT. Are you happy with her?"

"Oh ... you know about that then. Jeez, there are just no secrets anywhere anymore. What is the world coming too? Well, um ... yeah. Yeah, I guess. Happiness? What's that? It's more like sheer-drop terror. Pfffff. Right down the gray wall. I guess you can call that happiness. Man, DT keeps me on my toes. A damn wild ride. Sometimes I don't know whether to kiss her or to strangle her. She's got me ... well, shit."

Merde. That said it all. That said it exactly. Sure, the poets knew more eloquent ways to describe the feeling. Sonnets devoted to Capital L Love. A rhapsody, a dirge. I knew exactly how Kanahele felt. I felt that same way about Nikita. It was like handling aluminum oxide. Highly volatile material. One wrong move, and it could explode so badly that not even Walter's bomb bunker could control the damage. For the first time in years, Kanahele and I looked at each other with complete understanding. I allowed a small smile to lift the corner of my lips as he chuckled quietly. Then he thumped me on the shoulder.

"Talk with you later. Good luck with your blondie. God knows I have my hands full with my woman. To the brotherhood of oppressed men everywhere. Us poor saps just stupid with love. We who are about to die ..." Kanahele saluted me, then left.

##

Even though the lecture was over, I still sat in my seat. I waited for the kids to file out. I listened to their footsteps fade while I leaned back in my chair and looked up. As the lights gradually came up, all the stars on the ceiling dimmed and winked out. All of them, that is, except the North Star. It twinkled at me as if it were sending me a message. I hoped that wherever Nikita was, she could find her guiding light, and follow it back home. Back to herself, back to me. I hoped that Kanahele was right. God help me if he wasn't. God help Section One.

Continued in Final Contact

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