Rakitin watched the young soldier take visible control of himself. For a moment, a great, wounded anger had shown, the was oushed back like shutting off a tap.
That ability itself could be a clue to the man's identity.
"Da," he answered, knowing the value of distraction. "There haven't been any new ones in a while, thank God for small favors."
Every time the door to the lab opened he half expected it to be someone with a grim expression and a description of what parts were missing.
"Now we're dealing with the living human element. It's the Major who does most of that. That's the side where the real complications arise. Everyone has comrades, and nothing happens to a vaccuum. That's what we rely on, but it works against us, too."
That is to say, our prime suspect is not only untouchable but has everyone convinced he ejaculates butterflies.
The thought was self-indulgent and unfair. God, he must be tired.
Rakitin fell silent. He looked down at the bottom of the bed, where the sheets were tucked in, perfect, neat corners. Too much white.
"You should be angry," he said, suddenly.
A lump of anger sat at the center of his own stomach, a reactor pulsing cold energy.
"I don't know why this happened to you. Maybe there is no why beyond timing and luck and all the other stupid, unforgiveable things. One thing I can tell you."
Rakitin's gaze lifted to meet the soldier's grey eyes. He had landed inadvertantly on a plateau rife with clear, thin air, where anything that could be seen was in reach.
"When I find the man who did this, I will kill him."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-05-02 09:22 am (UTC)That ability itself could be a clue to the man's identity.
"Da," he answered, knowing the value of distraction. "There haven't been any new ones in a while, thank God for small favors."
Every time the door to the lab opened he half expected it to be someone with a grim expression and a description of what parts were missing.
"Now we're dealing with the living human element. It's the Major who does most of that. That's the side where the real complications arise. Everyone has comrades, and nothing happens to a vaccuum. That's what we rely on, but it works against us, too."
That is to say, our prime suspect is not only untouchable but has everyone convinced he ejaculates butterflies.
The thought was self-indulgent and unfair. God, he must be tired.
Rakitin fell silent. He looked down at the bottom of the bed, where the sheets were tucked in, perfect, neat corners. Too much white.
"You should be angry," he said, suddenly.
A lump of anger sat at the center of his own stomach, a reactor pulsing cold energy.
"I don't know why this happened to you. Maybe there is no why beyond timing and luck and all the other stupid, unforgiveable things. One thing I can tell you."
Rakitin's gaze lifted to meet the soldier's grey eyes. He had landed inadvertantly on a plateau rife with clear, thin air, where anything that could be seen was in reach.
"When I find the man who did this, I will kill him."