A Spaceman

Chapter 11--The worst pies in space

Three Isylgyns come in to feed me this time. One holds the food, the other two stand behind. Spot is one of the ones behind. I fancy he is in training, because he is younger. The Isylgyn Tony. That stupid kid would have fed the enemies. I laugh. Feed the enemies biscuits.

They offer me a packet of meat, with a spoon to eat it with. I reach out to take it. I know why he's keeping me now. brain wash me. ha. Like that will work. I'm in full possession of my faculties still. Brain wash. Hmm, funny words. Funny funny words. Wash him with his brain. Cut his brain out and rub him down with it. That would be fun! But he would be dead for that hmmm, tie him up and rub him down with other people's brains. Doesn't matter whose hmm. That will work.

I take the packet, and I see Spot shake his little eyeballs back and forth. I look down at it. Think Quinn. You can still think Quinn you're cleverer than them all. Too clever by half, Major Tom laughed. Titus doesn't eat meat, ever. So where'd they get meat, Quinn, huh, where'd they get it you damn genius? Did they cut up an Isylgyn? There were other bodies on the ship weren't there, nice dead Spacemen what to do with them-----oh hell now. not even Titus----yes even Titus. That is exactly what he would do he wouldn't do anything but that.

I let go of the packet, resisting the urge to vomit. Bile is rising in my throat. Oh God. Dear God. He had them cut up, didn't he? He cut up that kid, that sweet kid who's neck I broke. Remember how quick that was? Snap and it was over, light goes right out, death comes so fast. Bodies last for a while though. all that flesh.

Spot bobs his eyes up and down encouragingly. I lock eyes with him. Then I put my hand over my mouth as I gag. I cannot lose what little I have on my stomach. But I do, it comes up in my hand. Oh well, eat it again. God that's gross. Would he seriously do that? Can't I just eat it? Hell yes he would do that. Titus Card has no soul. Why would he even think of doing that? Wish his kid were still alive. cut her up. Feed her to him. Funny! I'm so funny, I start laughing, wiping my hand on my shirt and laughing at the idea. Sit him down, feed his kid to him. Wish he had a kid to do that with.

**

"Soren, wait up," I say, as we near what looks like a circle of train cars. A few Triceratops graze in a little makeshift pen. People wander between the cars, talking and laughing. There is a fire in the center. Soren stops and holds out his hand for me to take, obediently. "They're gypsies," I observe.

"Told you they'd never recognize you," Quentin says, limping his way down the hill to the camp.

"Right there," I say, picking up Soren all the same.

"Quentin, who's this young thing you've got, you old dog?" a woman runs up, laughing and hugging Quentin. She is probably close to my father's age, with grey streaks through her dark hair. She is wearing a bright red long skirt, an orange ruffled shirt, and no shoes. A long string of wooden beads graces her neck. Her feet are bare and calloused, yet her ankles are adorned with gold anklets. She is like nobody I've ever met. I like her instantly.

"Ahh, away Maureen, she's my new assistant," Quentin laughs, hugging her back, "Tecla, and her son Soren."

"Soren, after the ancient philosopher, I presume?" Maureen asks, smiling instantly at us. I notice she does not even seem to study my face for signs of my age. No furrow of the brow mentally counting how old I must have been when I got pregnant. She looks at me as I am now, a mother carrying a small child. A genuine person. My father was wrong. There are some good people. Probably.

"Yes," I say, nodding. Nobody else has noticed the reference. Another woman, a bit younger than Maureen, runs up and hugs Quentin, nearly knocking him over. She is wearing mirrored glass and had wild hair around her face. she kisses his cheek and he hugs her tightly.