Chapter 2
After an awkward and adversarial lunch, the two walked back to Avon’s apartment. It was a large apartment much like a twenty-first century converted loft with an open floor plan. It was evident several apartments had been destroyed to make way for one large apartment. Jeremy grimaced at the idea of such extravagance. Most apartments were barely eight hundred square feet due to overpopulation in Lorian City. He had grown up in a one room shack with a dirt floor and no running water. Now the apartment he was standing in was more than he could ever imagine. He had never seen anything like it before. It was spectacular.
It was furnished with sleek modern lines; furniture in black and white with silver and gray accents throughout the room. The decorations were minimalist, an occasional trinket showing places Avon or her father had traveled. It lacked the warmth and coziness Jeremy had expected. Still he was in awe.
The apartment was bright with floor to ceiling windows which provided an abundance of natural sunlight. It also allowed ample opportunity for a sniper from any one of several rooftops nearby to murder the apartment's occupants. Jeremy frowned, knowing the apartment was not a safe place for the two of them to stay. He did not know of any kidnapping attempts on the General’s daughter, but he refused to dismiss the risk. He refused to rule out anything which might end his short military career. The thought of a dishonorable discharge and going back to the slums of Lorian was shaking him to his core. Maybe he was over thinking everything; maybe he wasn’t. Paranoia wasn’t always a bad thing. He knew this from experience.
"You can use my father's room," Avon announced after checking to ensure her latest purchases had been delivered to her room.
"Where is your room?" Jeremy asked coldly. "I want to see it."
Avon was surprised by his request. "What's it to you?"
"I need to see where everything is. If I'm to protect you, I need to see everything."
"Why do you think you need to protect me?" Avon demanded, exasperated by Jeremy's overwhelming need to control everything.
Jeremy was equally annoyed. "Give me a break princess and just show me your room," he barked as if it were an order.
Avon took a deep breath. She wasn't in the mood for another argument. She knew she was safe but if it meant a moment of peace and quiet and while preventing another outburst, so be it. She turned on her heel and walked towards her room. "Let's get this over with," she sneered over her shoulder. Jeremy followed two paces behind her.
Avon's room was equally large; the size of an entire apartment for most people. Everything was stark white; the furniture, the linens, the walls, everything. The same floor to ceiling windows covered the entire back wall. Jeremy walked to the windows and looked out. He quickly inhaled and exhaled forcibly through his nose, he lips clenched tight. All he saw was a security nightmare. Then he turned. On the walls opposite of the windows, he saw floor to ceiling shelves covered with toys; dolls, games from every part of the universe. There were old, new, antique, collectibles, hard to find toys. He wasn't sure whether to be in awe or disgusted by the blatant display of wealth. Avon was spoiled; spoiled beyond belief.
Jeremy glared at the toys and back towards Avon. He could not form a single word. Growing up he barely had clothing, shoes, one, maybe two meals a day and here on the shelves were artifacts and antiques worth more than Jeremy would earn in several lifetimes. Avon could see his abhorrence.
"Most of them were gifts from dignitaries and visiting Generals while I was growing up," Avon tried to explain. "They're peace offerings, so to speak, from people trying to stay in Daddy's good graces through me."
Jeremy finally found his voice. "And you kept each one?"
"Why not?" Avon asked more like a statement. "Some are quite pretty, some interesting, and quite a few very valuable. I could sell them and not have to work a day in my life, but I wouldn't. In a way, they tell the story of my life. I know who gave me what and when and where. They are my history; a visual diary if you will."
Jeremy was embarrassed. Not because of his original impression of the collection but because he was staring at the shelves. "I've never seen so many toys," he mumbled.
"Of course you haven't," Avon laughed. "No one has. Some of these things should be in a museum, not here in my room. Look at this one," she stated moving towards one of the far shelves. "This is an original first year Barbie Doll from 1959. It's in its original packaging, never been opened. It's worth more than you and I will earn in an entire year."
"Is this a Zarcon music box?" Jeremy asked, staring at the intricate metalworking and design. "I saw one on display once. They are very rare."
Avon smiled. "Yes, my father went there before I was born. He brought it back with him. The music is almost magical. It was one of my favorites growing up. It always helps me to go to sleep."
Jeremy continued to scan the wall, finding another surprise. "You have printed books?"
"Yes, they were gifts from the former ICE historian. He bequeathed them to me when he died. They are magnificent; leather bound with gold inscriptions on the covers."
Jeremy walked towards the books. "He must have liked you a lot."
"He was one of my father's best friends," Avon explained as she watched Jeremy reach out as if to touch one of the books. His hand stopped just short of touching one of the spines.
"Go ahead. Pull one down," Avon offered. "Feel it, smell it. It's wonderful."
Jeremy wiped his hand on his pants, afraid to damage the book. Then he reached up and pulled it down. He ran his hand over the leather cover, his finger over the gold lettering; "A Tale of Two Cities". He lifted the book to his face and inhaled the faint smell of leather.
"I've never held a real book before," he admitted as if the reason was because of his background; his poverty growing up.
"Very few people have," Avon stated again. "Paper books started going out of style in the early twenty-first century. Libraries were closed down a few decades later. Books which weren't procured and put into private collections were destroyed. It really is a shame. Why don't you take this one and read it today? It's so much different to sit and turn a real page in a real book. It's an experience you'll never forget."
"Aren't you afraid of me damaging the book? It's so rare."
"I doubt you would ever do anything to intentionally damage the book," Avon snickered. "Not the good Captain Hanson."
Jeremy knew Avon was giving him a backhanded compliment, but he didn't care. No, he wouldn't do anything to intentionally damage the book and the thought of holding and reading a printed, leather-bound book intrigued him. He smiled at Avon and nodded ever so slightly.
"I'll take good care of it."
"Let me show you to Daddy's room," Avon offered, walking towards the door of her room. "I took the liberty of having your dress uniform delivered as well as your duty duffle."
Jeremy's mood changed instantly. "You did what?"
"I knew your things were being sent to the mansion. I had a messenger bring them here instead. You should be saying thank you."
Jeremy took another deep breath and held it. Avon acted without consulting him first, just as she had decided they were going to stay in the city until after the military party. He was supposed to be in charge of her, not the other way around. This was a power struggle he did not need or want. If she continued to thwart his authority, there could be problems. Not just between the two of them but with his ability to protect her. Her headstrong attitude would be detrimental and it made him edgy again.
Jeremy remained silent and followed Avon to General Zadoorian's suite. It was larger than Avon's suite. To one side of the room were a large desk and office area. While Jeremy should have been surprised, he wasn't. He knew the General was on duty 24/7 and would need to work wherever he was. Avon continued to walk through the suite and to a far door. "Here is your comfort room," she announced opening the door. "It is equippe
d with all the modern cleaning stalls as well as a water closet."
"A water closet?"
"They used to be called showers," Avon corrected. "Daddy loves taking showers."
"You mean a shower using water?"
"Yes," Avon laughed. "You should try one. It will change your life."
"But isn't water rationed?"
"Maybe for everyone else but not for Daddy," Avon shrugged. "Take a hot shower and change out of your uniform. Take the night off Captain Hanson and relax a little." The last thing Avon wanted was to have Jeremy standing guard over her all night and in his ICE uniform. Sure she knew everything about the Captain. She had read his dossier as well. She knew how he had grown up in the slums, his mother a housekeeper. He was self-educated and intelligent. He had proven himself quickly at the Academy catching the attention of his instructors and his superiors. He was driven. He was by the book. He was the consummate soldier.
Jeremy shook his head from side to side almost shuddering as Avon walked away. So this is how the other half lives? Jeremy thought to himself. Well, maybe not the other half, but definitely the General and his daughter. He walked over to the shower and took a long look at it. He had seen old movies with people taking showers. It looked relaxing. Plus how hard could it be?
Remembering from the old movies, people used to take a shower to clean themselves, he peered into the shower. He found no old fashioned soap. I guess he uses it just to relax, Jeremy pondered and turned towards the sanitizer stall. Three minutes later, he and his clothing were perfectly clean. Then he stripped. Looking around he found a small closet and towels. He grabbed one and hung in on the hook outside of the shower door.
Stepping in he stared at the shower fixtures. Water from the top, Jeremy mused. Now to turn it on. He had seen old fashioned sinks. He knew there was one knob for hot water and one for cold, but this shower only had one knob. He turned it. Then he screamed. The water was ice cold. He quickly turned the handle all the way to the left. He jumped back screaming again as the hot water hit his skin, his body and head hitting the cold hard tiles of the shower wall. "Dammit," he cursed under his breath. "How in the hell is this relaxing?"
Avon had heard Jeremy scream and then scream again. She could not stifle her laughter. Maybe I should help him out, she chuckled to herself. The thought of seeing the illustrious Captain Hanson at his worst while trying to figure out how to use the shower was overwhelming her. When she heard his head hit the shower wall, she knew he was in trouble. She opened the door to the bathroom a couple of inches and call out to him. "Need some help?"
Jeremy jumped again. He was not expecting Avon to come into the room. He turned quickly to hide his naked body. Doing so, he lost his balance. He slipped, hitting his head on the shower wall again. "Dammit," he yelled again.
"Are you okay?" Avon yelled.
"I'll be okay once you leave me alone and I figure out how to turn this damn water off."
"Turn it all the way to the right," Avon screamed over the sound of the water. "Are you hurt?"
The redness from the hot water had subsided, but the redness of his humiliation quickly replaced it. He knew nothing about showers and he hated Avon had seen him fail at what should have been a simple shower. What should have been a delightful and relaxing experience had quickly turned into a nightmare.
"Just get out of here. I'm fine," Jeremy screamed. He was angry.
When Jeremy heard the door close, he reached forward and turned off the water. He grabbed the towel and started drying himself. Only then did he notice he was bleeding. Hell, he had hit his head three times on the shower wall. He was lucky he was still conscious.
Unable to see the back of his head or reach it, Jeremy had only one choice. He would have to dress and ask Avon for help. For a moment, he wished he had knocked himself out. Asking Avon for help was unconscionable. He was mortified. However, he knew he didn't have a choice. He wrapped the towel around his head to soak up the blood and then he dressed. He looked at himself in the mirror. He jaw was clenched. His lips thin. His shoulders tense. Then he felt the pain.
Even if he knew where the medical kit was, Jeremy couldn't heal himself. He had to ask for help. Every muscle in his body tensed. His fists clenched. Hell, he was supposed to be the strong, fearless captain. And now he had to ask the spoiled princess for help. Could his day get any worse? He wasn't even twelve hours into his three-month assignment and there were already injuries. And to make it worse, he was the first victim.
Feeling the blood trickle down the back of his skull and the pain increasing by the moment, he walked out of the bathroom and through the General's suite. As he entered the living room, Avon turned and looked at him. Seeing the towel wrapped around his head, she laughed. "Party hat?"
"Wound covering," Jeremy sulked. "Where is the medical kit?"
"Did you cut yourself?" Avon asked, now half concerned and half amused.
"Just a little," he replied and slowly turned away from her.
"Holy hellion!" Avon screamed. "That's a lot of blood." Then she ran from the room and back to her father's bathroom. Fifteen seconds later she was back with the medical kit and was pulling Jeremy towards the nearest seat which just happened to be a white upholstered chair.
Jeremy tried to resist sitting. "I don't want to get blood on the chair," he insisted.
"Damn the chair," Avon urged. "I don't need you passing out on me. I don't plan on spending my evening at the HQ medical bay. Let me use the regenerator and get this closed before you bleed to death. Do you know how much paperwork is involved if you die?"
"So you're worried about the paperwork?" Jeremy seethed.
"Of course," Avon replied and then laughed. "Just hold still already. I'm pretty good at this. I've healed Daddy more times than I care to count. I've even had to heal myself a time or two." Avon turned on the regenerator and removed the towel. "Oh, this is a deep one. This might take a few minutes."
Jeremy sighed. Partly annoyed, partly intrigued. "So your father is a klutz?"
"No. But I am," Avon chuckled. "Daddy would come home after a scrimmage and I would clean him up. He's had lots of injuries which are 'off the record'. I've had years of experience doing this."
"So you have a few hidden talents," Jeremy stated as a question, trying to look towards Avon.
"A few. Please hold still. If I do this right, you won't have a scar. I'm sure you want to keep this a secret."
"You set me up didn't you?"
"I guess I could have shown you how to use the shower. But you're so arrogant I thought you would figure it out eventually. I didn't think you'd end up trying to knock yourself out."
"I guess I deserve that. But not the blood. You have a mean streak."
Avon grinned. "Just a little."
"So tell me about a few of your klutzy moments. It's only fair."
Avon sat silent for a moment as she thought about what and if she should share. She continued to work on the three inch gash on the back of Jeremy's head. "Being Daddy's only child and a girl at that, I tried to live up to Daddy's disappointment of not having a son; a son to follow in his footsteps. I tried to be a tomboy. But I failed. I failed horribly. If I ran, I fell. If I climbed, I fell. Call me the Queen of uncoordinated. My childhood was filled with failure. So I turned to my studies. I know everything about every mission my father went on. I know everything about military history and battles. I can converse with anyone about any battle, any scrimmage in any galaxy. My knowledge is extensive and invaluable. It's why I joined ICE; to follow in my father's footsteps and to be a military strategist."
Jeremy sensed a bit of hesitation in Avon's statement; a hint of regret. "But it's not what you want to do?"
"It's my legacy," Avon stated solemnly. She did not elaborate. "There, all healed."
"I guess I should head back to the sanitizer stall and clean up again."
Avon nodded in agreement. "I'll take care of the towel."
Jeremy watched Avon walk away before rising. Maybe Avon's life wasn't as perfect as it looked on paper or from outside the fishbowl. Avon had everything she never wanted or asked for. She had a wall full of toys and gifts from people using her to get into her father's good graces. She had an apartment in the city only to be used so she could be closer to her father's office. She had a mansion with nannies and tutors but no companions, no playmates. She had a father who wished for a son and had been given a daughter; a daughter who was a klutz.
While Jeremy was spending another three minutes in the sanitizer stall, Avon was busy with her father. Her father had contacted her as soon as the report the medical kit had been removed from its storage unit in his bathroom got to him. "Did you hurt yourself again?" he demanded. "I haven't even be gone a day."
Avon knew her father would automatically assume she had hurt herself. She could have told him the truth, but she decided to take the blame and hide the truth. Sure Jeremy wasn't thrilled about his current assignment but she wouldn't put a wedge between him and his chance for promotion. She quickly decided to give Jeremy a fighting chance. "It was nothing Daddy. Just a paper cut. I was reading and I cut myself."
"You used the medical kit for a paper cut?"
"It hurt. When was the last time you cut yourself on a piece of paper? It hurts."
"You have a tendency to heal yourself," General Zadoorian scowled. "If you hurt yourself enough to use the medical kit I want to know. I want to know right away. Not from an alarm."
"Yes Daddy," Avon acquiesced. "Good night." Before the General could reply, Avon disconnected the transmission. She was angry. Just once, she wanted her father to have a smidgeon of faith in her. He always thought the worst. He always assumed she was the one hurt, not anyone else. It was times like this which made her want to show him she could do better physically, be better with weapons. But her anger always defied her.
She was torn. She wanted her father to be proud of her. But she didn't want to be the son he didn't have. Still she had joined ICE and enrolled in the Academy. She would be the best battle strategist they had ever seen. Realizing she was pouting, she rolled her bottom lip back and tried to relax her jaw. Just once, I want to do what I want. I want to be happy. To hell with him. If he doesn't like me for me, then to hell with him.
Avon glanced into the mirror and saw the sad person she was when alone. It was not the person others saw. She took a deep breath and forced a smile back onto her face; the smile everyone knew her for and expected to see. She was the ultimate actress.
Avon entered the living room and found Jeremy looking at his communicator. He looked up and stared at her. "You lied for me," he whispered. "Why?"
"I may not like you Captain Hanson. But I'm not going to be a part of your demise. That is on you. It is partially my fault you were hurt. So I took the blame. But instead of telling my father you cracked your skull open, I told him I cut myself. I am a klutz, after all. There was no reason for him not to believe me."
"Thank you," Jeremy whispered. "I owe you."
"No, you don't. This isn't a contest. We're not at battle. At least not yet. I'm sure you're going to torture me beyond belief and very soon. We both have a job to do Captain Hanson. It's my job to make Daddy happy. It's your job to help me do it."
"I'm screwed, aren't I?" Jeremy scowled. "I have the feeling you could care less about passing the physical training evaluations or learning to shoot. My gut tells me you would like to be anywhere but at the Academy."
"You're right. I don't want to be an ICE officer. But I will be one. And it means I have to pass the evals. I don't expect to be at the top of my class physically, but I need to pass. I know the only reason I wasn't expelled was because of my academic achievements. And let's not forget Daddy's pull. So, you're not screwed; at least not yet. I just hope you don't have some grandiose expectations for me. I'll pass the evals, but that's going to be it."
Jeremy's lips went thin. He had hoped to turn Avon into a lean, mean, fighting machine and she had just told him in no uncertain terms, this was not her goal. She would pass the evals, not because of his help but because she knew she had to. And she would endeavor to meet only the minimum standards. No more, no less. This assignment would not win him any brownie points with his superiors or the General. Yes, he was screwed.
"Dinner?" Jeremy suggested needing to turn his focus elsewhere. He was hungry. He hoped Avon would be hungry as well.
"Salad?" Avon asked.
Jeremy nodded. "Solarian Surprise with extra blue cheese please," he requested. "Then some broiled chicken and a baked potato with butter and chives. I'll have some Tarian beets and some sprouts."
"You're going to eat all that?"
"Unlike you, I work out. I need to eat. You should eat more. You're not going to have the strength to keep up."
"I have two more days before we start training. Until then, I'm having a salad."
Jeremy nodded. He would give Avon tonight and tomorrow to eat as light as she wanted. He wasn't worried. She would quickly learn she needed to eat more. When her muscles burned from lack of energy and she dropped to the ground, she would learn.