Achak wakes up before his alarm goes off. He had been dreaming about the previous night, playing it and replaying it in his head, obsessing over the details. He stays on the couch for a while.
This couch sleeps better than my bed, he thinks to himself.
He gets up and goes to the window to look at Stake's view. Remarkably, it's not of another wall just a meter or two away. He looks out at the city lights, at the vehicles kicking up spray off the wet roads. It's not light yet and the winter sun won't be up for hours. Even then, it probably won't breach the rain clouds. Achak listens to the rain. It's a soothing sound to his awakened ears.
He turns and surveys the dark condo. His next thoughts are of church but he's in a bit of a bind. First, he didn't bring his nice clothes with him. Sister Rebecca is just off the plane and has her complete wardrobe with her, but Achak's is at home. He bought a Vashon Island Synergist suit - a rare splurge - specifically for church, but it would also be nice to wear it to meet with Duncan. Mr. Abbey would not appreciate Achak in his full body armor, nor his sweats.
Achak knows he needs to attend early service in order to be back in time for the meeting. The upside is that he's not picky about where he worships. Usually he attends a church down in Puyallup - in the thick of gangland where he spent some of his post-smuggling years - but that would be much too far to go today. The other benefit is that Stake and Achak don't live that far apart. With some fast walking, Achak can be home in ten minutes.
He checks on Stake to make sure he's still breathing. Reassured that the elf is on the mend, Achak grabs a breakfast bar from Stake's cupboard and chases it with another glass of soymilk, then ducks out into the rain. He goes unarmed, which is a bit of a risk, but he's guessing early Sunday morning will be safe. Besides, no use in tweaking Knight-Errant, even if Achak is a SINner.
He gets home to his micro-apartment, 25 square meters of simplicity. There's a bed that's closer to a cot, a malnourished soy-processing unit, a small fridge, and a bathroom so small that Achak bangs his elbows in the shower. He quickly towels the rain out of his hair and warms up some water for tea. He could really go for a donut but if he's lucky (or
blessed) there might be one with some soykaf after the service. He changes into his nice suit - a gorgeous navy with a subtle pattern that fits like a glove - combs his hair, drinks his tea to chase away a chill, then ducks back out into the rain. This time he has an umbrella at least.
St. Mark's Cathedral is an Episcopal church not far away. Achak sits in a pew in the back, feeling the music resonate in the huge space above him. His thoughts turn again to the night before.
Why was I so sloppy? he wonders during the Psalm.
I wasn't sharp all night. Clumsy, bumbling, and generally blessed with second-rate opposition. Was it because I skipped the Jazz? This was a concerning thought. He stands with the congregation to hear the Gospel.
Do I need it to be at my best? Is it psychological? If so, does that make it any less real? These are the thoughts turning over in his mind as he listens to the Rector preach about the season of Advent. The season of hope, and waiting. Achak hopes that he's not dependent on the chems, even if he secretly suspects that he is.
But what of it? If it's the chems that keep me alive, or my teammates alive, are they not for the best? Are they not God's tools, as surely as blades and bullets? He bows his head to listen more attentively.
After service he manages a few smiles and handshakes while gathering a cup of soykaf and a cookie. Donuts would have to wait.
Or frybread for lunch to celebrate getting paid! he thinks to himself.
That foodtruck that specializes in it is usually parked at Seattle Center on the weekend. Unless, of course, they decide not to show because of the weather.He returns to Stake's place to gather Sister Rebecca and the elf. He grabs his Ares Crusader and thinks about swapping out the clip of wooden flechette ammunition. He has APDS and Ex-Explosive, but both are hideously illegal. Best not to take chances on Queen Anne, where the cops are tight and not keen to lose their cushy patrols. The machine pistol goes into the concealable holster with the less-effective but less-forbidden ammunition.
"Time," he says.