Neptune- Part 9

Part 9 – True Aim
Neptune's Journal 08/02/2025
While we still have no true aim, no knowledge of the paths that we must tread in order to assure a future for ourselves, we are at least finding a way to keep our minds occupied. As absurd a thing it seems to me, Mercury has suggested creating a series of performance, like the films (or plays, but I have only seen scripts for those) that humans watch. These, I suppose, will be more like imagination games than anything, games that we've all played before, but more structured and therefore more distracting. I will be writing our scripts, since we have little shelter and moving around in the cold for extended periods of time is not something I am capable of doing safely, as I found out after talking to Uranus again yesterday. I am shivering still now, bundled up in our small makeshift shelter.
I worry still about Uranus, and I suspect he knows how long he kept me out there, as if in punishment of confronting him again. Since the death of Mars, he has changed. He tries to hide his emotion, though he does it poorly, since he was designed as an emotional being. Jupiter, however, somehow manages to keep him in check. Though she is Uranus' opposite in terms of emotion, they seem to be forming a bond. I only hope it benefits them both.
***
After enough hesitations, attempts at changing the subject, and long silences, my daughter leans slightly across the table at the creamery. "I'm a boy."
I look carefully at Natasha, unsure of what to think of those words. "Tash, you know that you aren't. I mean, you know the anatomy and all and-"
"No, that's not what I, um, that's not what I mean, I guess, then, but it sort of is. Maybe... maybe I feel like I should be one?"
Another strained silence.
"So... how long have you felt that way?" As agonizing as this conversation has been, I think it is probably about time to have it. My arms are crossed in front of myself at the small table that Tash and I occupy, and I stare across at my child, feeling bewildered and overwhelmed at the words of my child. Neither of us have touched our waffle ice cream bowls for several minutes, the cookies and cream in both of our cups slowly liquefying from our negligence.
"Um, I dunno," says Tash, eyes averted. She hasn't looked me in the eye for several minutes. "I just always thought that someday, I'd just be a boy. I never really questioned it until the other night. It sounds stupid to say it out loud..."
I shift slightly in silence, still staring at my child in contemplation. "Tash, I know you must have been scared, but... you could have come to me anyways. There is nothing that you can feel or do which will make me love you any less. For now, though, I will contact a psychiatrist to help you with this."
"I'm not crazy," my child notes, taking a small bite of the ice cream while looking up at me with challenging eyes.
"No, and I don't think you are. But it's still best you speak to an expert, for both of our sakes." Silence returns, and we both turn our attention back to our treats.
***
"So that is pretty much how it went," I say to Samara, who does not appear to be listening to me. Her eyes are instead locked on her PDA, which she taps on. It does not matter. I only want to have someone to talk at, not another proper conversation. The door to my study is closed, the dim light enough for both my eyes and those of the recom before me. "I am not sure what to do."
Samara shrugs while still looking down at her screen, seeming not to really register what I saying. A few moments of silence pass while I wait for a response. There is none.
"She's my little girl. I don't want her to be my son. And Cheryl, she's not going to want to hear anything about this," I continue, still not having a response from the snow leopard recom.
She taps at her screen a few more times and then finally pipes up, "You know what I would have done if Leia told me that?"
"What?" I ask, hopeful for some advice.
"I'd slap a ball cap on her and call her 'sport'. And if it was Luke saying he thinks he's a girl, I'd throw a dress on him and sign him up for ballet. But Leia or Luke never would have told me that. It's not like you didn't have warning with Tash. You remember Paris's last birthday party? I know how you entertain Paris's princess fantasies, but seriously, seeing Tash in a little girly frilly gown was so laughable. The poor kid seemed miserable." Sam's eyes turn up to me after ranting and she places her PDA back into her bag. "And honestly? I don't really care what your kids tell you right now. I know you're pretty wrapped up in all of your business, but all I want to know is who killed my own children."
I frown. "I am sorry, Samara. I should not burden you with my problems."
" Normally, I would have loved to have this conversation. But it breaks my heart that I will never get that chance to have my children confide something so terrifying and precious to them. I will never get the chance, Errol, for Leia to come to me, worried that she's pregnant because of a drunken one night stand while she's still far too young to be drinking. I will never get the chance for Luke to unconvincingly tell me he's holding something illegal for a friend. I just can't talk to you about this now, because I have to miss out on all these frightening, tragic, beautiful things," she says, averting her eyes from mine as she ends her rant, not wanting me to see the pain that her eyes telegraph, trying uselessly to hide her emotions. Just like at the funeral.
"Samara, I am sorry. It was insensitive of me. I just do not have many friends I'm even willing to talk to about these things," I apologize, leaning forward on my desk. "I was planning on working on your case tonight, honestly. I am getting the police reports faxed to me by a contact in the LPF, and I will be choosing one of your people to get in touch with."
"You don't have to worry about choosing," says Samara, trying to recompose herself, "I've picked for you. After leaving the Space Defence Force, I still kept contact with a couple people there. He's not a mercenary like Darryl was, but he's shown interest in the case."
That makes me a little bit uncomfortable. I do not like hiring anyone who I have not handpicked in order to optimize compatibility between working styles. I am very particular about these things. Especially when I'm one of the 'agents' on any given case. I suspect the Luna Police Force will not have the proper resources to deal with the murders on their own, especially since Samara will want to suppress any details about Darryl's career. Besides, I suspect that whatever has occurred to Sam's family is something that will not only be very important for me to know, but also important for nobody else to know.
"Fine, Samara," I say resignedly, dreading more reasoning with her while she's emotional, "What's this person's name?"
"Classified." Samara puts her PDA back into her pocket and says, "You're set to meet him tomorrow morning in the same place you met me and Darryl for our first job with you. I trust that you remember where that is. I'm going to my room. I'm feeling weary..."
I nod and gesture towards the door, opening my cell phone to add a line to the schedule builder. Looks like I'm going to be busy for awhile.