Neptune - Part 14

Part 14- Ice

Neptune's Journal 04/01/2029

Another new year has passed, and again we are left aimless wanderers, trying to find refuge. Our shows and performance games must wait until we can relocate to yet another town. People are beginning to catch on must faster to our presence, for some reason. This leaves us with having to travel across ice and snow even farther, a feat which neither Saturn nor I am grateful for. Perhaps we are being noticed simply by virtue of having grown? It makes me nervous that our own bodies would compromise our stealth.
Mercury has told me many times that she wishes we could go back for Jupiter. A successful project, Jupiter is unlikely to have been put down, and is likely still being tested by the Bio-Tech laboratories. However, we can't possibly know what changes were made to their security, and it would require us retracing our steps to get back to her. Saturn counts our chances as being dismal. While in my heart, I would like to go back for our comrade, practically, it's unlikely that any of us could return without being captured, and Mercury would certainly be destroyed. I cannot let that happen.
My concern for those among our party, however, is steadily growing. In particular, I worry about Uranus. He has surrendered himself completely to his faith, even sneaking into churches in order to attend their services. This is a human religion, and I do not want him deluding himself into believing the followers will accept him as one of their own. He treats us so coldly, and speaks so warmly of these lessons. I'm afraid of losing him.

***

I hear the ringing from my cell phone. One ring. Two rings. Three... My breath stops on the third ring. Normally, when Cheryl is away, it allows me respite from her venomous tongue, and I would not place so many calls. Predictably, the four- "Errol. To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your incessantly whiny voice? Please stop wasting my time. I'm not leaving you because I want to talk to you more."
"I do not enjoy talking to you either," I mumble, rubbing my face lightly, "I'm calling you regarding parenting matters. I-"
"Oh dear," she interrupts, huffing softly through the receiver. "It's a good thing I'll be taking the children, since you don't even know how to parent. That will remove the parenting concerns once and for all."
"I'm not sure why you would want to take the children. All you do is neglect anyways. It's not very good parenting," I reply, before pinching the bone between my eyes as I attempt to refocus. I cannot let her draw me into her juvenile exchange.
"Well, it's almost as good as talking to them briefly once a day, and you've already got that part covered," she replies.
"Natasha wants to be a boy. That's what she tells me. She was scared of talking to you herself, understandably so, since nothing but nastiness pours from your maw."
Her reply came without any hesitation, "Oh, then you can keep that one. And look on the bright side. You'll relate to her well, since you both want to be real boys."
"Excuse me? She's still your child as much as she is mine, and as much as it chagrins me to say it, I actually expected a little more than that from you. I didn't think you had the capacity for kindness, but I was sure your sense of spite was more powerful than your fear of looking bad to all your Martian eugenicist friends. Besides, you cannot fight me for custody on a single child," I reply, trying to keep my voice level. This suggested abandonment of her own child brings my internal anger to a boil: Natasha is difficult, but she is a child worthy of all the affection we can offer her. To my shame, I imagine for a moment what it would be like to clutch Cheryl's throat in my hands and-
Sounding as if she is replying through a smug smile, Cheryl answers, "I'll fight the custody battle for both. But I'll allow you to see Natasha whenever you please, in practice. And this will be as much of the time as you possibly can, as you'll want to protect her precious self-esteem from someone who thinks such a failure should be treated with a mulligan. She should have been aborted if what you're saying is true, it's just a shame they can't test for these things."
And feel her last breaths, passing through her windpipe.
The violence of the image passing by my mind disturbs me greatly, I rub my forehead to try to shake this. "You disgust me, today more than ever. Natasha is a wonderful child. She is my wonderful child."
"She can be your wonderful child then. I'll take the good one. The one who will contribute to society in a productive way," says the voice on the other end.
"They're both-"
"God, Errol, you're so self-righteous. I'm just being honest. You can't pretend that there's not a better one between the two kids. I've always liked Paris better. She's a normal little girl. I always figured Tash would turn out to be an outcast, I just didn't know the extent. But you like Paris better, too. We both wanted girls; it's only natural to be less fond of the emotionally disturbed tomboy." While I think the accusation is cruel, I feel some guilt as she says that. I usually procrastinate when talking to my older child, and Samara was right in saying that I always indulged Paris' fantasies while rejecting Tasha's less standard ones. "Ah, silence on the line. I've hit a soft spot."
"I love both of my children very much. Without condition. Which is more than you can say, you heartless bitch. Now listen, if you do fight me for custody, and follow through on whatever messed up plan you want to execute, I will make you suffer. I will not let you break my child's heart. Do you understand?"
There is a silence on the other end, only breaths transmitting through, before she speaks: "Your impotent rage is so scary. I'm shaking in my boots here. But luckily for me, I'm far more dangerous than you are. There is nothing you can do."
"We'll see about that."
She continues, "Funny. Anyways, I'm going to release your little affair with your little androgyne harlot to the media, scheduled for release tomorrow by the way. Then your election ratings will plummet, you'll be alone with your broken child, and you will be nothing but a simple penniless trader forever besmirched by scandal. And I do mean simple. Tata. I will miss these little talks."
Before I can produce another vocalization, a soft click comes from the speaker, so I close my cell phone, leaning forward in my chair.
I had believed that Cheryl would not actually try to take custody, but it appears I was wrong. I thought, or at least hoped, that she would prefer to foist the responsibility of the children onto me, freeing her up for indiscriminate sex with eligible bachelors, and other not so eligible ones. It appears, though, that she wants to destroy me completely. I have no idea what her motive for that is: We experience enmity, but never on that kind of scale. My expectation was that when our arrangement ended, we would simply have nothing to do with each other. Is this a part of some more elaborate scheme? Regardless, her words have cut me, and her threats have shaken me. She has accomplished what she has set out to.
Even though I am a man, is it okay if I cry?

***

I emerge from my library once I have calmed myself, hoping that nobody has emerged from their rooms. Well, perhaps not nobody. I walk towards the door of the guest room, to listen. The soft murmurs have stopped since I came downstairs, I can hear only silence from the room. I gaze momentarily down at my watch and look up. Samara has likely been up for days, and if it's silent, it means she's sleeping. The hour, however, is a bit early for Nova to have fallen fast asleep.
I use my claws to lightly tap at the door. Probably not enough to wake the sleep deprived Samara, but loud enough to catch a conscious woman's attention. There is a moment where I doubt I was heard, where I feel I should just go upstairs and crawl back into bed, but I linger hopefully.
My hope, this time, is rewarded, by the soft creaking of the door as she opens it, wearing only her robe, tied at the waist so nothing is revealed. Even an androgyne must preserve her modesty, I suppose. I step aside, gesturing for her to exit the room. She gives me a sceptical look and glances back inside to check on the other occupant.
"Errol," whispers Nova as she carefully closes the door behind her, "what is it? She needs me. She needs someone. I hope this is important." When she looks back up to study my face, though, her eyes widen, and she reaches to touch the fur around my eyes, stroking down my cheek. "Oh, Errol, have you been... ?"
I turn my face away and shake my head, "It's not important. I just... I just need someone to talk to. If you're worried that she'll wake up..." I trail off. I should not be so prideful. I should tell her how much I want and need her right now. But Samara also needs her friend. I glance back at the door and back at Nova.
She trails her hand down my cheek and neck, resting it on my shoulder, "No, it's important, I can tell. You aren't as difficult to read as you think you are. I will listen, Errol, but you need to find someone else to deal with your emotions. I can't..."
"I know. You can't have me attached," I say hollowly, watching her nod in response to my statement. It takes all I have not to just go ahead and kiss her, forgetting my problems by appealing to my baser senses.
She sighs and pulls her hand off my shoulder, crossing her arms under her breasts as she looks down at the floor, nodding again. "Please. Tell me what's on your mind, then."
"It's everything. It's Cheryl. She's so cold hearted. Sometimes I think thoughts when I'm around her. Thoughts contrary to my nature. But I had just called her to talk to her with something. She's going to release that I've been... seeing you. Tomorrow. She's going to leave me and divorce me, and take the kids. Or rather, one of the kids. She doesn't want Tash," I ramble, unsure where to even begin talking on the matter.
Nova seems perplexed for a moment, "Isn't Tash the karate prodigy? Why wouldn't she want to keep her? Why wouldn't any mother want to keep their daughter?"
I look towards the base of the stairs and say softly, "Because her daughter wants to be her son."
"Oh," says Nova, getting the implications quickly, being from Mars herself. While mutants and alternatively gendered recoms are removed from mainstream society, in her line of work they tend to be more prominent.
I nod, "And I'm scared. I'm scared for myself, and my kids, I'm scared that I will not be in a position to help," I nod my head to the closed door, "her. I need to solve this case. I need to do it fast. I owe that much to her."
Nova tilts her head slightly before shaking it and putting her arms around me. "What makes you feel like you owe her so much? She had only been a worker for you, her and Darryl both. What makes you owe her so much?"
I think about the question. Indeed, what makes me feel so personally responsible? It's difficult to pinpoint. Softly, I explain, "I feel kinship with her. She is a link to my own past, my own history. And she suffered so much for it. Now, she's one of my few friends, as was her husband, finally people who were broken and gifted like me. I love her, like she is family." I feel Nova's grip slipping as I talk about the past, and she looks up to me with pleading eyes, but I do not stop. "Maybe it's why I feel like I love you. I suspect I really do, you know... and maybe you see something in me, something like him."
Her grip around me loosens but she does not pull away, only looks at me sadly, "Him and Samara were close. They loved each other. But we should not talk about the past, Errol, it hurts too much. It hurts us both."
"I'm like him, but I'm different too. I do not love Samara that way... I care about her as if she is a sister. She was deeply wronged, and I should do everything I can to reverse that. But as for you, I do-"
She places her finger softly on my lips, and shakes her head. "I'm going home tomorrow, but I will be doing what I can to help you from a distance. Because..." she hesitates for a moment, "I feel responsible for you, too." She leans over to give me a peck on the cheek, letting go of me. "Now, I need to take care of her. I will see you again soon, okay?"
I nod, and return to her a small kiss, before I pull away. "Okay."
She opens the door, again carefully, and closes it behind herself. I watch as she walks away, smiling for just a brief moment before heading back up the stairs.