Will McIntosh - Defenders

A sound caught Oliver’s attention. Overhead, defender fighter aircraft as big as houses flew drills. They were the same models human engineers had designed for them in their war against the Luyten.

“Look at those—it looks like Luyten technology.”

Oliver followed Alan’s gaze. Row upon row of assault sleeves, similar to the ones the Luyten used, filled a valley paved in concrete. Hushed whispers shot about the cabin. Since they had Luyten slaves, it seemed they had access to Luyten technological knowledge.

If the Luyten were sharing technology with the defenders, who was to say they weren’t passing information to the defenders, plucked out of the emissaries’ minds?

“Shit,” Oliver whispered. He closed his eyes, rubbed his temples. If the Luyten were passing information, what would the defenders learn? What would they want to learn? As far as Oliver knew, the UN had no ulterior motives, were not plotting against the defenders. There was also no overt indication the defenders intended them harm. They were emotionally unstable, yes. Maybe a bit paranoid. That didn’t mean they were gearing up for war. Clearly they held humans in high esteem. Still, the weapons were alarming.

May 23, 2045. Sydney, Australia.

Among defenders, staring evidently wasn’t considered rude. As Lila and her six companions explored Sydney on their own for the first time, defenders everywhere stopped what they were doing and stared. Some followed, until they had dozens trailing them, pressed close, carefully watching them.

Sook looked straight ahead, as if she was used to ignoring adoring stares. Galatea and Bolibar seemed bemused. Oliver seemed uncomfortable, although that wasn’t unusual.

“How are you today?” Bolibar called up to a defender who was walking so close the blades along his leg were no more than three feet from Bolibar.

“Very well, thank you,” the defender replied.

“Lila Easterlin?”

Lila turned to find a defender walking beside her. She examined him carefully, recognized the slight bump in his nose, the flaring nostrils. “Hello, Erik.”

“You recognize me. I’m pleased.”

“Well, you recognized me.”

“Human features vary considerably, which makes it easier. You have blond hair, and you’re shorter than most of the other emissaries. I noted those distinctions so I would recognize you.”

Lila resisted making a self-deprecating crack about being short, afraid it would be lost on the defender. Her heart was racing.

“I came to ask if you would do me the honor of being my companion at the races this evening. It promises to be exciting.”

Lila grinned. The way he phrased it, it almost sounded like he was asking her out. “I’d love to. Thank you for asking.”

“Wonderful.” He made a fist. “Everyone will be impressed with me, when they see you’re my guest.”

Lila laughed, not sure what to say to that.

After arranging to meet outside her hotel, Erik left to find the emissaries he was escorting to the Museum of Culture.

There were at least twenty defenders following them now. The defenders were treating them like rock stars, which amused the hell out of Lila, because she’d had posters of defenders on her bedroom walls until she was nineteen. She remembered trying to strike up a conversation with a defender once, while feeding it fried chicken. She’d so desperately wanted it to talk to her, but it just went on eating like it didn’t hear her. She stifled a laugh, not wanting the others to ask what she was thinking. During the war she’d entertained such lush fantasies of having a defender friend, of going for walks with him, of the envious looks from the other kids. Of course back then the defenders had been too busy fighting Luyten. They hadn’t gone for walks, hadn’t made friends, even with each other. It was dumb, but she was excited as hell at the idea of having a defender friend.

May 23, 2045. Sydney, Australia.

Bolibar was chuckling as he stepped off the hotel elevator. Lila gave him a questioning look.

“Word must have spread about your date with a defender this evening, because I just received a call from a general named Hassan, who asked me to accompany him to a military banquet on Friday.” Bolibar spread his arms. “Now I have a date as well.”

When Oliver, Galatea, Azumi, and Alan joined them, they had similar stories that they shared as they all headed off to lunch.

Oliver had two engagements lined up. “When I informed the chief of housing and construction for the city that I couldn’t join him for dinner on Thursday, because I had already agreed to join Brigadier General Thomas for an art opening, he seemed remarkably disappointed. Almost jealous.”

“That’s because you’re being unfaithful to him,” Galatea said, nudging Oliver’s arm. It seemed a flirtatious gesture to Lila. She wondered if something was brewing between Oliver and the British ambassador. God, she hoped so. It seemed as if Oliver was still waiting for his ex-wife to call, sixteen years after their divorce. It was about time he got laid and forgot about Vanessa.

“Given that they’re asexual, you may not be far off,” Oliver said, straight-faced. “To the extent they have affiliative needs, they have to funnel them into friendships. Since we created them, we represent high-status friends.”

“If we created them, don’t we represent momma and papa?” Bolibar said, grinning.

Oliver pointed at him. “Don’t laugh. Not only do they have no romantic relationships; they have no parents—”

Galatea shushed him gently, gestured that a defender might overhear.

Oliver continued more quietly. “Their brains are derivative of human brains. There could be residue of human needs, like procreation and maternal attachment, built into their DNA, with no direct means of expression.”

Oliver looked toward Lila for support, as Bolibar chuckled.

“Don’t look at me ,” Lila said. “I only know how genetic codes express physically. The psychology is beyond me.”

“It’s beyond everyone,” Oliver said.

May 23, 2045. Sydney, Australia.

She was winded by the time she spotted the sign—ROYAL RANDWICK RACECOURSE—up ahead. The defenders had retained a lot of the original names of places after rebuilding them to larger scale, perhaps as a tribute. That seemed to be the case with the racecourse.

They had walked from Lila’s hotel, because, as Erik put it, “that way, more defenders will see me with you.” Erik was trying to walk slowly, but Lila still found herself striding briskly to keep up.

“I understand your husband is a professional poker player,” Erik said.

He’d really done his homework. “That’s right. His father, Oliver Bowen, introduced him to the game. Kai was beating Oliver soundly six months later, and he was barely thirteen.”

Suddenly Lila missed Kai, and their son Errol, so badly it hurt. In the five years they’d been married, they’d never been apart for more than a few days at a time.

“I like poker. Most defenders like poker. It’s war. Nothing but distilled military strategy.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that,” Lila said. “It is kind of like a war, isn’t it? You fight until all but one player is dead.” She didn’t like looking at it in that light. Kai was a free spirit, an utterly nonviolent man. He didn’t even like violent movies.

They were different in a lot of ways, she and Kai, yet they fit together so well. From the very start, she’d loved being around him. She smiled, thinking of their first day together. Kai had tagged along with his dad to a genetic policy conference, mostly as a way to get a free trip to Miami in January. He asked Lila to skip out on the conference banquet and go with him to a high-stakes poker game instead. An illegal game. Never one to miss out on something seedy, Lila had gone. It was exhilarating, something out of a movie. Kai had been so cool, so fearless, taking on the strange and colorful men and women huddled around the table. That time, it had been a war of sorts.