Volume 2 Preface

Volume 2 consists of the short stories Dina, Training, and First Mission. Together, they show how Paolo Di Tomaso and Dina come to bond as a fratello.

Dina Chapter 1: Signing Up

"It doesn't seem right, Captain." Paolo Di Tomaso looked out the window. The view looked serene, pastoral. At the base of a far hill was a small walled enclosure, and inside a plain cinder-block house, unpainted. Two girls dashed inside. Even from the distance, Paolo could see the excitement in their strides.

Cane in one hand, mug in the other, Captain Raballo stood beside his former subordinate. "I know. You'd think they should be playing with dolls, or ... whatever it is little girls their age do. It's up to their handler, you know. Hilshire buys Triela bears, and Jose takes Henrietta into the city on shopping trips."

Paolo nodded. Henrietta, identifiable by her brown hair in a bob-cut, emerged from the house. She cradled her rifle, barrel pointed downward. Her handler knelt down on one knee and talked with her. Though he couldn't hear the words, Jose's precise gestures were clearly meant to coach her, instruct her.

The other girl, a blonde in a similar bob-cut, walked out of the training house. Her rifle she held in both arms, barrel pointed upward. She approached her handler, blonde like her, wearing a trench coat and gloves. He too gave correction, but his hands, his distance, and the stiffening of his spine showed his displeasure at her performance. He concluded his lecture with his right arm hauled back, palm open and tensed.

"And Jean is ... like that." Raballo put down his coffee cup and wrapped his arm around Paolo's shoulder. "It bothered me a great deal when I first joined, too. You learn to look away, to focus on your own girl." As he spoke, he guided Paolo away from the window.

"Claes." Paolo nodded, remembering the girl with long, black hair and wide, curious eyes. Their meeting was his first introduction to the Social Welfare Agency and their young cyborgs. She seemed so ordinary, so plain, yet the smell of cordite hung heavy around her. Claes politely bowed as she introduced herself, then fell in step behind Paolo and Raballo as they walked the monastery-like grounds and talked further about the Agency and its work.

Only later did Paolo realize he and the Captain had talked for over an hour with Claes following behind them, never saying a word.

"Yes. She ... Well, she's what made me think of you, actually. When we started, as I said, this whole arrangement bothered me greatly. Jean asked me on board as an instructor, but gave me only her as a student." He let go of Paolo once they were free of the window's view and limped over to the closet. "He said that the other girls could use better form as well, but their handlers never found time for me to teach them. Even he couldn't find time for Rico to spend some time with me."

Paolo put on his grey sport coat while Raballo selected a jacket from the closet. They all seemed identical - long, tan, like a trench coat, but without any visible pockets or belt. They were large, baggy, and formless. In the time since his injury, the Captain let his waist grow, Paolo noted. The jacket made it less noticeable, but didn't make it go away.

As he opened the door to his quarters, Raballo continued speaking into the air. "So, I taught Claes. At first, it didn't go very well. She was clumsy and awkward, and her aim was terrible."

Paolo hurried out, then stood to one side while Raballo closed the door. He didn't lock it.

"I couldn't understand how someone so young could move like an old woman." Raballo lightly kicked his cane with his bad leg. "Then I realized, it was like me after the thing with the rifle ruined my knee. Just like I had to learn to stand, to walk, to do everything again, Claes was in a new body, and she needed to learn how to use it. We started spending less time on the range and more time learning about life."

"Did she fight it like I did?" Paolo smiled. "Did you have to order her to read, or to write essays about the Renaissance?"

"With these girls, any request from any of us is an order. So, I did, even though I didn't mean to. I've learned to be very ..." Raballo waved his hand abstractly. "Very careful in how I talk to them. In fact, I keep it very business-only, at least while we're on-site. There's something about this place."

They walked in silence through the dormitory building, across to the administrative building, out the forecourt and to the gatehouse.

"Pietro. Drew guard duty, hm?" The Captain gave the man in the rumpled suit with a short beard a wave.

"One of the many services provided by Section One." Pietro gave a lazy wave back, cigarette in hand.

"This is Paolo Di Tomaso. He'll be working with us in Section Two."

At this, Pietro lowered his feet from the desk and rose from his seat. "Ah, glad to meet you."

Paolo stepped forward and grasped the outstretched hand. "Glad to meet you as well. I think Lelio was here when I came in."

Pietro smiled. "Lucky him." He turned to Captain Raballo. "So, you came for the package?"

Raballo nodded. "It's his, actually." He indicated Paolo. "Do you want him to sign for it?"

"It's in your name, but I really don't care. So long as there's a scribble where it needs to be." He laid the logbook on the desk.

Formalities done, Paolo and Raballo walked back through the administrative building. Once outside, they turned instead toward a new direction. Paolo tried to remember the orientation Priscilla gave him yesterday.

Raballo jarred him from his attempt. "You should open it, you know."

"Oh, all right. I thought we were going back to the dormitory. I was going to open it when we got there."

"No, the dorms are that way. We're headed to the medical building. And, this isn't a gift. Not for you, anyway."

Puzzled, Paolo unwrapped and unboxed it. Inside was a pristine white cardboard sleeve with the triple circles-and-arrows logo of Fabbrica D' Armi Pietro Beretta S.p.A. He slid the inner box free and opened it.

Inside was his 90-Two. And a note.

You should have let me give you another one.
- Massim

Paolo picked it up. It wasn't his old one. This one was new - the areas where the Bruniton finish started to turn were missing.

As if he was reading Paolo's mind, Raballo said, "No, it's not your old Beretta. Signore D'Acampo told me what you did with it. This one has your grips, though." He studied them as Paolo put them back in the velvet-lined cavity. "You put a few more notches in them, didn't you?"

Paolo nodded. "I've been busy."

"Good. I'm glad to see you haven't gotten rusty. Anyhow, the doctors say it's good to have a gift ready when she wakes up. It helps cement the bond, they say."

Paolo looked at him blankly. "Sir?"

The corner of Raballo's mouth twitched. Paolo never saw him smile, but this was as close as he could remember. "Oh, they didn't tell you? You're going to be a handler. So, what are you going to name her?"

Author's Notes: Typo caught by PSVT