Chapter 109: 109 Broken Things, Part Two

Northern Constructed Territory, one year after the return

"Move the rocks more slowly. We don't need you to break them all," the supervisor said. 'Ted' on his name tag, though that wasn't the name he'd introduced himself with.

One of Freya's cousins had a friend of a friend who knew someone who needed to hire whoever was desperate for work and easy to train, and until Jin managed to get a private pilot's license, it wasn't like he had a lot of options.

When he showed up and told them he used to fly planes and handle high tech weapons, they trained him with the new earth-moving robotic suit instead of putting him with all the other unskilled labourers. The machine they had him try wasn't hard to figure out. Almost insultingly easy, no matter how much Freya said that at least it put something on his resume.

It was alright for her. She was studying at the national university when she wasn't at the defence force academy, and the air force was paying her to do it. She didn't have to do some stupid job just to qualify for solo apartment rental.

Jin rolled his eyes and went through the motions of moving rocks about from one place to another.

"This is beneath me," he mumbled, making sure not to say it too close to the headset.

"Did you say something?" Ted asked.

"Just admiring my pile of rocks," Jin said.

"Remember, we're in construction not destruction," Ted said, as he turned away to look at the surveyor. "I know that's something you struggle with."

A bolt of anger shot through Jin. He pulled his hands back from the controls so he wouldn't squeeze them.

*

On the bus home from work he meant to call someone, say hello, but as soon as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket he opened a random app instead and got caught up in an online argument with someone stupid who knew nothing about politics. Some dickhead from some Western country calling the Northern Constructed Territory a backwards, communist nation, like he'd gotten it mixed up with North Korea.

'We're capitalist in NCT, you moron,' Jin typed, as fast as his fingers would let him.

He looked up every few words, just to make sure he didn't miss his stop, scowling at the landscape that passed outside the bus window.

*

His new home was cosy, not too big. A bedroom that could fit most of his stuff, just enough kitchen space to fit the rice cooker and microwave, and room for two soft chairs in the living room. When the real estate agent showed him to places young singles were allowed to rent she talked up the wallpaper in the living room, not that Jin cared about that, but when he slumped down on to the armchair by the window the walls did seem kind of cheerful. Even if they reminded him of his grandma.

He would have to fold away the clothes drying racks before he let Freya come over, but in that moment he didn't want to. All he wanted to do was curl up in front of something stupid on TV.

It wasn't until he woke up, sore and blinking against the light of someone's passing car refracting through the room, that he realised he'd fallen asleep in his chair. He stood up, stretched, took his phone with him into the bedroom. The ceiling was a warm tone, when he leaned back against his pillows to look at it. What would Tabitha have called that colour – apricot? Peach? It was nearly midnight where he was, which meant it was probably midday on a Sunday where Angharad was. He called her new number before he could talk himself out of it.

"Jin? Why are you calling me? It has to be the middle of the night there."

"I'm so sick of not getting anywhere when investigating. Why can't we figure out this sabotage?" he asked.

"What, like, you had a brain storm that woke you up and you had to nag me about it? We can't get anywhere because we're looking at the wrong things. We need to follow the money. Only, I don't actually know how to do that. Like, how we should figure out who sends what where through the gates?"

He shot up in bed. "Are you serious? That's all we need to figure out?"

"I mean, probably. It's not like I can be sure. Anyway, at least it's a place to start and then we can go from there."

"I'll start looking right now."

"Uh, no, I think you should probably take some notes and then go to bed. I mean, this is not technically urgent or anything. And in the morning you should call Freya, because she can probably get access to this information easier than you can."

"Why can't you get access to it? You've met the gate guy."

"I mean, that person that I met that I'm not going to talk about over the phone, they don't always seem to know what goes through the gates. I mean, they are not the gates. They just invented the technology. And, I mean, they can operate the gates but, like, there's literally button pushers and stuff at the gate-ports."

"You mean that you're afraid to ask."

"Yeah, I am. I don't know if you've realised how powerful that person actually is. I don't want to, like, push my limits with them. I mean, they're cool, but..."

"Weak. You're disappointing me."

"Oh, please. I notice you're not trekking out to that building to meet that person, either."

"You already have the in! You need to see my disappointed face right now. I'm sending you a picture so you get the full effect."

"I already know what your disappointed face looks like," she said.

He leaned back against the pillows and took a picture of himself, anyway. It was blurry but he still sent it.

"Why are you sending me shirtless selfies?" she shrieked.

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"I'm not going to wear a shirt to sleep," he said.

"I'm hanging up and sending an email to Freya."

*

He woke up late. It was his one day off per week so he shouldn't have felt guilty about it.

Through the walls he could hear the muffled sound of a voice and feet pacing up and down. He stumbled out of bed, half-dressed, and realised Freya had already let herself in with her key. She sat on his couch, talking on her phone with someone.

He moved into the kitchen to grab something to eat while he was waiting for her to be done.

It didn't take long. She moved up behind him and leaned over his back so she could speak right into his ear.

"She's right, you know," Freya said. She didn't have to say who she meant.

In their blurry reflection in the kitchen cabinet windows his face looked soft and unfocused, muted, but hers had sharper lines. Even rays of light knew Freya was more interesting to focus on than he was.

"I know," he said, voice muffled as he wiped toast crumbs from his face. "How are we supposed to start?"

"I'll start looking. You don't have to."

She kissed his ear then turned away to do something the reflection wasn't clear enough to help him see.

"Give me something to do," he said. "I'm going to go crazy."

"I will get my hands on the information, and then you and Angharad can work together to analyse it. Until then, try folding and putting away your socks."

"Until then?"

"And also during and after. Understanding what goes in and out of the gates is a long-term project and so is putting your laundry away. I'm not going to do it for you."

He shot into the living room so fast he nearly fell over a chair on the way. "I didn't think you would." He looked beyond his pile of black socks at Freya tidying things off his couch before he could get to them. "I'll do that. I know where that goes."

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I bet you knew where it goes yesterday, too, and you still didn't bother to put it away."

"It's not that I didn't bother."

He grabbed those things from her hands and put them on top of the clean laundry pile to take into his bedroom. As soon as he'd gone past that door and couldn't see her any more he realised one of the things he'd taken with him was the TV remote. He should have left it there for her to organise.

He put a hand over his face and leaned against his wardrobe while he collected his thoughts.

When he got back to the living room he'd at least managed to put real clothes on and brush his hair. He put the television remote back on the table where it belonged and folded the clothes racks up and out of the way.

Even though she sat on the couch in her casual clothes, he felt that some part of her was still at work, still as severe and sharp as she could be in her uniform. And standing while she sat didn't make him feel any less small under her gaze.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"If I fought in the war to get revenge, then there must also be people who want revenge against me. Does that seem right?"

"I think you need to stop watching so many of those Chinese period dramas you like so much. Most people aren't trying to get revenge."

"It's not because of..."

"Unless this means you're really into Shakespearean tragedies now. Which life also isn't like."

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "I prefer my tragedies ancient Greek."

She laughed and sat up straight. "You would."

He scratched at the back of his neck. "It was a stupid question."

She stood up, manoeuvred around the table, and walked up close to him. Up close she was even more perfect. He wasn't going to be weak and back down from that. She put her hands on his shoulders and smiled a soft smile out of one side of her mouth.

"You can ask me stupid questions. That's the kind of relationship we have," she said.

He put his hands around her and dragged her close. "I should stick to stupid questions like: the bed or the couch?"

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