Fragile Hope

Chapter 1-1

1

A light drizzle splashed against the cafe window, blurring Harry's view of the street outside. There were people hurrying along with umbrellas and the odd automated car that zipped past, but it was mostly quiet.

Harry sat back with a cup of tea in one hand, steam wafting up to carry the scent of peppermint to his nose. “This is nice,” he said. “You know, we don't do this often enough. When was the last time you and I got caught up?”

Jack sat across from him with hands folded behind his head, smiling lazily. “Oh, probably right before your daughter's birthday party,” he answered. “We don't really hang out enough.”

Except for the two of them, the cafe was empty: just a couple dozen round tables spread without a single patron in sight. One of those cylindrical maintenance bots rolled past to polish the floor, but other than that, they were alone. Harry paid the damn thing no mind. He was less bothered by robots when they weren't in his house.

“So, how are things?”

Jack cast a glance out the window, seemingly distracted by something he saw out on the street. “Well, now that she's all moved in,” he began, “Anna's in full nesting mode. I think she said something about needing more closet space.”

“And you're-”

“Loving every minute of it.”

“Oh, really?”

Covering his mouth with his fist, Jack shut his eyes and cleared his throat. “But you see,” he said. “Obligatory standards of masculinity require that I make a pretense of mild exasperation. Please sign the form as witness to my having done my due diligence.”

“Signed and witnessed.”

Harry cradled his cup in both hands, inhaling the sweet aroma. Cautiously, he lifted it and slurped as he took a sip. The tea was still a bit too hot for his liking, but better that than too cold.

When he looked up, Jack was watching him with that squint-eyed stare every cop learned after enough time on the Force. “Come to think of it,” he said. “I'm surprised you haven't given me the Dad Talk.”

“The Dad Talk?”

“You know: 'It's too soon. You've only been dating for a few months. Rock music attained perfection in 1967. Have you heard of Jethro Tull?'”

Of course, Jack's mind would go there. Sometimes Harry wondered why he hadn't gone insane now that most of his friends were barely more than half his age. Moving to Leyria had been…an educational experience. It bothered him that the others saw him as a bit of a stick in the mud. Did kids these days still use the phrase 'stick in the mud?' After all this time, Jack still didn't understand him. Not completely.

Harry was smiling into his lap, shaking his head slowly. “Kid, I thought you knew me better than that,” he said. “You and Anna have been in love for five damn years. So, you're finally doing something about it? My response is, 'It's about damn time.'”

Besides, Harry Carlson was in no position to lecture anyone about their relationship choices. Not when he and Sora were sneaking around like a couple of teenagers. A pang of guilt flared up when he thought about the implications of dating his daughter's teacher, but the sneaking only made it more exciting.

Jack studied him again, the cop-stare returning with renewed intensity. So, this was how it felt to be on the wrong side of an interrogation table. Huh… “Yeah, I'm not buying it,” Jack said. “What's going on, Harry?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh…”

Harry was blushing now, and he felt the slight tingle of sweat on his brow. “I'm just glad that you and Anna are happy.” Damn it! There was no way in hell Jack wouldn't see right through that pathetic response.

The kid leaned back with his arms folded, smiling like a father who had just heard about his son's first crush. “Do you have a girlfriend, Harry?”

“No.”

“What's her name?”

“Shut up!”

Much to Harry's annoyance, Jack folded up in his seat and trembled with laughter. “Okay then,” he wheezed. “Well, you just tell Shut Up that I'll be eager to meet her just as soon as she's ready.”

Harry groaned. Why did they always do this to him? First with Jena and now with Sora. Everybody seemed to find a perverse amount of entertainment in his reluctance to openly acknowledge a relationship. Well, maybe Harry would feel differently if he didn't keep getting into relationships that required a certain amount of discretion.

Oh, Jena had been more than willing to acknowledge their connection. In fact, she had struggled to understand why Harry had such a hard time doing so. Well, if you were going to engage in an office romance – a bad idea at the best of times – the very last thing you should do was let your colleagues in on the secret. No one wanted to be the subject of water-cooler gossip.

And now, he was dating Sora. Say what you will about office romances, but at least there had been no conflict of interest in his relationship with Jena. Harry could not say the same about dating his daughter's teacher.

Only then did he notice that Jack was looking out the window again. Hell, the poor kid seemed downright perplexed. Something was eating away at him.

Slouching in his chair with a hand over his chest, Harry pursed his lips as he looked up at the ceiling. “Okay, now it's my turn,” he said. “Spill it, Kid. What's on your mind?”

The corner of Jack's mouth twitched, but he never turned his gaze away from the window. Hard little droplets of rain pounded the glass. “What makes you think there's something on my mind?”

“I've seen that look before.”

Jack crossed his arms, hunching over the table and barking a laugh. He shook his head. “There's no look, Harry.” Of course, he was lying. You didn't spend fifteen years interrogating criminals without developing a sense for these things.

Harry lifted his cup in one hand, sipping his tea. All the while, he let his own cop-stare linger on Jack. “Now, who's paddling up Bullshit River?” he said at last. “Trust me, kid; I know that look.”

“And what look is that?”

“The look of every detective who wants to pull his hair out because he just can't see how the clues fit together.” Harry waited a moment, and then added, “The look of a good officer who just saw a scumbag walk on a technicality.”

When Jack finally looked up, he blinked several times and then sighed. “Okay,” he said. “You're right. There is something on my mind, but I don't think you can help.”

“Try me.”

“Nah,” Jack said. “Let's just go.”

Harry's first instinct was to protest, but he was old and – in this case – wise enough to know that when someone didn't want to talk, you couldn't force the issue. So, he just nodded and finished his tea.

Once they were out on the street, the rain seemed to pick up a little, falling hard on Harry's big black umbrella. It was a spoke-street, one that ran all the way to the SlipGate terminal at the centre of town, but it was still pretty quiet. Foot traffic was at a minimum due to the lousy weather, and Leyrians seldom used cars.

At one point, a bus came rolling past, heading toward the downtown core. Harry saw lights in the windows of distant skyscrapers despite the fact that there was still plenty of daylight. Autumn in Denabria always brought rain, and with it, an almost perpetual gloom. It almost made him miss Ottawa's many snowstorms.

Jack walked along with his hands inside the pockets of his denim jacket, his face a granite mask of consternation. “So, are you going to tell me her name?” The total lack of enthusiasm told Harry that his friend really wasn't looking for an answer. He just wanted to take his mind off his troubles.

Before Harry could think up an excuse to change the subject, he caught sight of two young women in hooded windbreakers coming up the sidewalk. Well, it was really their conversation that snagged his attention.

“That's him,” one said, pointing.

Harry's mouth dropped open. He winced, then slapped a palm against his forehead. “No, no, no.” It was a pitiful prayer, one that he knew would go unanswered. “Please, not this again!”

At his side, Jack paused and cast a glance over his shoulder, frowning in confusion. “You've seen these two before?”

“Just wait. You'll understand.”

Like a moth to a flame, one of the young ladies came rushing forward with a smile on her face. “Mr. Carlson,” she said, offering him both hands. “I hope it's not too much trouble, but my cousin just applied to Arethelia University, and it would mean so much to her if she had your blessing.”

“I'm not a religious icon,” Harry broke in.

The girl blinked as if he had just said that the sky was red and the sun green. “But I thought…” she mumbled. “Those videos on the Link…”

“You were mistaken,” he said roughly. “Go back to worshiping your Companion or whatever it is you did before I came along.”

“But-”

Harry pushed past her and ignored the dirty look that he got from her friend. Damn it, he was not a messianic figure, and he had no intention of becoming one. He could just imagine what his grandfather, a devout Catholic, would think of that. Strangely, Melissa seemed okay with it even though she was the only one in their family who had any real faith. “God has a plan for everyone,” she insisted whenever he brought it up. Harry was an agnostic who leaned toward atheism. He believed in facts, in observable reality. He was not about to encourage other people down the path of superstition. Jack actually had to run to keep up. “Pretty harsh,” he said.

Harry rounded on him, standing with the umbrella in one hand and scowling. “I am not a religious icon,” he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “The sooner they learn that, the happier we'll all be.”

Biting his lower lip, Jack nodded slowly in understanding. “I get it,” he said. “But how did Harry Carlson, Messiah for hire, become a thing anyway?”

“Melissa didn't tell you about my fight with Isara?”

“She Coles-Notesed it for me,” Jack answered. “But I was still on that Ragnosian ship at the time. I know the bullet points.”

Tilting his head back, Harry exhaled and then narrowed his eyes. “People saw me using the N'Jal,” he explained. “A human using Overseer technology. Apparently, there's some prophecy about a man who can turn the gods' weapons against them.”

Jack's wry grin actually set Harry's teeth on edge, and it only got worse when the kid laughed and shook his head. “So, they think it's you,” he said. “Well, Harry, there are worse jobs than personal Lord and Saviour.”

“Shut up!”

“Will you bless my shuttle the next time I go out?”

“You know, I have the N'Jal with me.” Thinking of the Overseer device made Harry aware of it singing in his mind. The song was a companion now; he could tune it out with very little effort. But the N'Jal offered far more than raw power. Being able to determine the chemical composition of the air with a thought, being able to sense another person's mood by measuring subtle physiological responses…The N'Jal offered perspective, and a part of him longed for that. “Any time you want an ass-whooping, just let me know.”

“Hmm,” Jack said. “It seems you're a vengeful god.”

“Oh, shut up!”

The first thing Jack saw when he walked through his front door was Anna sitting on the couch in pajama pants and a little blue tank-top. Her hair was down – a rarity for her – and she seemed to be ready for a very early bedtime.

The instant she heard him come in, she looked up and smiled that special smile of hers. “Hey, you,” she said. “How was your day?”

Chewing his lip, Jack felt his eyebrows rise. “Not bad.” He stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him. “Harry wants us to know that he really hates his new job as messiah to the Leyrians.”

Anna was sitting with her hands on her knees, smiling into her lap. “So, you got to listen to his fun new rant?” She barked a laugh. “The last time I was over there, Melissa was having way too much fun teasing him.”