Lee Shores

by Rachel Ford

  “Babe,” I said, “don’t ‘nevermind’ me. What is it?”

  She sighed. “I can’t help thinking, darling: Frank’s the last person we saw on Kudar before we left. What if…well, what if he’s the one whose been murdered? We’d be some of the last people who saw him. And so the prime suspects.”

  “My God,” I gasped, thunderstruck by the idea. It made sense – awful, hideous sense. “Frank.”

  “Hey,” she said, her tone cutting through the wave of nausea that swept me, “I’m probably way off.”

  “What if you’re not? What if…oh God.” I couldn’t even bring myself to say the words out loud. What if Frank’s dead? “No. Oh God, not Frank.”

  Maggie did her best imitation, bound as she was, of a hug, and for a few long minutes we sat in silence. I felt the ship land, and heard the engines power down.

  Still, no one came. “You don’t think they’re going to leave us here?”

  “No. They’ll come. They’re just going to make us sweat it for a while.”

  She was right. Sure enough, half an hour or so later, a man in a captain’s uniform arrived with an entourage of military police. “The prisoners,” he said, “as promised.”

  “Good work, Captain,” one of the officers replied. “We’re in your debt.”

  “Any time, Commander Jular. I remit them to your custody, then.”

  “Very good.”

  An officer unlocked the brig and opened the door. Two armored Kudarians stepped through, and a handful of others surrounded the brig, weapons at the ready.

  One of our escort took me by the arm, and the other Maggie, hoisting us brusquely to our feet. “Where are we going?” she asked. “When can we speak to an advocate?”

  “That will be arranged in the fullness of time. Come with us.”

  “What are the charges against us? Who are we supposed to have harmed?”

  The officer identified as Commander Jular crossed his arms. “Silence. You will speak when you’re spoken to, and not before.”

  “Under Union law-”

  “Union law be damned. You killed a Kudarian. Your precious Union law will be satisfied in due course, but, gods save me, woman, one more word and I’ll tase you into next week.”

  We said no more after that. Rough hands guided us from the brig through the corridors of the Dreadnaught, and into a dock I didn’t recognize. This, I assumed, was a private military police port.

  Our escort pulled us along to a waiting skimmer, and shoved us into the back. I stumbled and nearly face planted on the metal grating underfoot, unable to catch my balance because of my bound hands.

  Maggie moved to intercept me, but my added weight proved too much for her to balance. We both went down as the doors locked behind us. A moment later, the vehicle jostled into movement.

  “Ouch,” I groaned. My knee hit the deck hard, and was still smarting from the impact.

  “You okay?”

  “I think so. How about you?”

  “Fine.” She grunted, rolling over and pushing onto her knees. A moment later, she was on her feet. I followed, and we took seats on the benches that lined the outer transport walls. Now, at least, I could brace with my legs to maintain my balance. “These bastards don’t seem to want to play nice.”

  “No,” I agreed. “Whoever they think we killed, they’re pissed about it.” I shook my head. “And, goddammit, it better not be Frank.”

  The trip was not a long one. The same crew was waiting to haul us out when we rolled to a stop. This time, we were plunked into the courtyard of a great prison complex. It was, I saw with some mortification, much like the Kudarian structures with which I was by now so familiar. Its angles were sharp, its corners severe, its courtyard large. But there were no niceties or welcoming fountains and décor here. The only thing resembling beautification was a set of statues. Two imposing marble figures stood on either side of the prison gates. One was a hooded executioner wielding an axe as tall as a man, and the other a woman dressed in the robes of a magistrate. The man’s eyes were hard, the woman’s scowl set.

  Involuntarily, I found myself freezing to the spot, staring up in mild alarm at these morbid, towering gatekeepers. A broad hand slapped my back. “Move.”

  “Hey,” Maggie called. “Leave her alone.”

  I nearly stumbled under the force of the blow, and I could feel it reverberating through my bones, but the same hand caught me before I went down. I winced as the fingers bit deep into my flesh, but I said nothing. In part, this was because I feared to provoke them, to give them a pretext for further harshness. And in part, I was afraid for Maggie, that she might put herself in harm’s way to defend me when silence would be the more prudent choice.

  “Shut up,” someone told her, shoving her forward. She was surer on her feet, and though she bowed a little, she caught her balance.

  Commander Jular intercepted our party after a few strides, taking the lead. The gates parted for him, and we marched into a grim foyer. A small waiting area with stiff looking seats occupied one corner of the room, and a guard station sat on the other. At the center of the room, in front of a set of locked doors sat a desk. And behind this desk sat a stern-faced, all-business Kudarian of middle-years.

  He glanced up as we approached, casting a frown over Mags and me. “These are the ones, then? The humans wanted for murder?”

  “That’s right,” Jular nodded. “You got the cell ready for them?”

  “Yup. Right next to the other one.”

  “Good.”

  “Just need you to sign them in. Then my boys’ll take over.” Even as he spoke, a handful of men in dark green uniforms pushed through the door behind him. Unlike the police escort, they were armed with batons and stun weapons rather than guns.

  “You got it.”

  “Have trouble bringing them in?”

  “The redhead’s a little mouthy. Plus the files say she was a captain in the Union army.”

  The other man snorted. “Union army? Might as well be the youth scouts.”

  Jular smirked. “Still. Keep an eye on her, Kriy.”

  “You got it. Alright, just put your palm here, signifying you’re handing them over to us.”

  The commander pressed his palm to the screen as indicated to complete the process. Then, he said, “They’re all yours. Have fun.”

  Kriy snorted. “Right. Just what I need: humans in my jail.”

  Jular grinned at the comment, and called, “Alright, men, let’s go.” The officers fell in behind him, and Kriy’s guards stepped in to fill the void.

  “Get ‘em back to their cell,” he instructed. “And you heard the commander: they give you shit, you give it right back.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  We were stripped of our translating earpieces, and everything else we carried but the clothes on our backs.

  Then our escort led us down a series of halls and cellblocks. They were open-faced, with solid dividing walls between cells, and bars and a door facing the hall. The walls were not intended for the prisoners’ privacy, as the bars ensured there was none. They must have been there instead, I concluded, for the inmates’ safety.

  And safety would, I quickly saw, be a concern. Shouts and jeers sounded all around us. A few Kudarians spit as we passed, and now and then someone would strike the bars. Without my translator, I had no idea what words they might have been using, but the meaning was clear enough.

  Whatever open-mindedness and tolerance we might have met with outside these walls, it didn’t extend here. Here – in whatever prison we’d been dumped – there was no pretext of a welcome to humans.

  Maggie walked close to me, and would shoot fierce gazes at the rowdiest of our taunters. We covered a good distance when our escort’s step slowed. A few phrases, none of which I comprehended, passed between them, and one of the men headed for an empty cell.

  It was the cell beside it, though, that caught my eye. Slumped forlornly against the wall, paying no attention to the commotion outs
ide, was a figure I’d recognize anywhere: F’er ark inkaya. “Frank,” I shouted.

  He started and glanced up at the same time someone behind me offered a gruff hushing sound. “Kay.”

  It was now that I saw the purple surrounding his left eye, and the great red welt covering his cheek. “Oh my God. Frank.” Without thinking about what I was doing, I darted for the bars of his cell. “Oh Frank, what did they do to you?”

  I heard shouting, from Maggie cautioning me to stop, and from the guards, probably doing the same.

  Frank was on his feet now, reaching a hand out to my shoulder. “Kay. Magdalene. They’re trying to pin this on you too?”

  I didn’t have time to respond, though. The crack of something heavy against my back blinded my senses with pain. “Ah,” I cried, crumpling as another blow landed.

  Frank was hollering something in Kudarian and grabbing for the guard through the bars. A second green uniform descended on us, striking at the bars.

  Maggie, meanwhile, was calling, “Leave her alone. Goddammit, keep your hands off her.”

  I heard the distant strike of a baton on flesh behind me, and I was aware that Maggie was being hit too. “Stop,” I called, trying to push to my feet. “Stop, please.” If I could get up, I thought, if I could get to my feet and fall back in line, they’d leave Maggie and Frank alone.

  Then, something impacted with the side of my head, and I saw a flash of white light. And then, I saw nothing at all.

  I woke awhile later, aching all over. My hands were unbound, and I felt a set of strong arms around me. I groaned, trying to open my eyes; but the light that flooded my senses with every flutter of my eyelids made that impossible just yet. “Mags?” I mumbled.

  “Kay, darling, are you alright?” It was Maggie’s voice, and it sounded very near me. Very near, and very urgent.

  “Mags,” I said again, forcing my eyes open. I squinted and groaned into the light, but then my vision cleared and I saw her. Her hair was wildly disarrayed, and she sported an ugly gash near her hairline. “Oh Mags.”

  I moved to rise, but she held me. “Shh, careful now, babe. Careful. You took a nasty hit. Don’t move too quickly.”

  More cautiously this time, I pushed up. “Oh God.” My brain seemed to be tossed on an angry sea, and my stomach churned along with it. I pressed my eyes shut to keep out the bursts of light that swarmed my vision.

  “Hey, you alright?” she whispered.

  I clutched at her arms for support. “I think so. Just…nauseous.”

  “You got hit hard, Kay. You gotta take it slow.”

  I opened my eyes again, studying her face. “Maggie, they hit you.”

  “I’m fine,” she said with a quick shrug. “It’s you I’m worried about. How do you feel?”

  “I hurt all over.” I lifted a hand to her face, brushing free a clump of hair that had dried to the blood at her temple. “Babe, I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m fine, Kay. Really.” Now she ran her fingers down the side of my cheek slowly, tentatively. I winced as she brushed sensitive skin. “That son-of-a-bitch hit you in the face, though.”

  “I wasn’t thinking. I…I just saw Frank was alive, and…” I shook my head – a terrible move, which I instantly repented as nausea swept me again.

  “Hey.” She put a steadying hand on my shoulder as I swayed. “It’s okay. I told you, baby, I’m alright. So’s Frank. It’s you we’re worried about.”

  “I think I’m okay,” I said. “A little woozy. And I feel like I’ve been inside a washing machine drum for the last hour. But I’m okay.”

  Maggie cupped a hand around the base of my neck, and drew me toward her until her lips touched my brow. Then, gently, she planted a kiss there. “Oh Kay. My poor, poor Kay.”

  “You’re covered in bruises, Mags,” I said. “Because I was stupid.”

  She wrapped her arms around me, though, and drew me toward her. I winced, the baton stripes across my back seeming to crawl with fire at contact. But I sank into her arms all the same. “I’m just glad you’re alright, sweetheart.”

  I said nothing for a long moment. Then, “Did we hear from the advocate yet? Do we know why we’re being held?”

  “No, and kind of. Frank’s being charged with murder. We’re being held as accessories to murder, and on some kind of conspiracy charges. Apparently, we helped plan the killing, according to these dumbasses.”

  “What killing?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Neither does Frank. They haven’t told either of us.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Hey,” she said in a minute, “you think you can stand?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Carefully. Why?”

  “Frank’s been asking about you every two minutes. I think he’d like to see you’re alive.”

  I smiled wryly. “I’m pretty happy with the discovery myself.”

  She smiled too, and stood. Gently, very gently, she eased me onto my feet. It took a few moments for my head to stop spinning, but we were able to make our way to the bars. “Hey,” she called, keeping her tone low, “Frank?”

  “Hey,” his voice answered. I couldn’t see him, due to the wall between us. “Is she awake?”

  “I am,” I said.

  “Shit.” I saw an arm reach out through the bars. “Kay? You’re up?”

  I squeezed the hand he offered. “I am.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’ll live. How about you?”

  “Same.”

  “It looked like they roughed you up pretty bad already. I hope they didn’t do worse.”

  “Nothing I won’t recover from.”

  I smiled at his lighthearted tone. Even here, even now, he was trying to lighten the mood. “What the hell’s going on, Frank? Why’d they come after you at all?”

  “I don’t know. I was waiting at the restaurant for Kia, and next thing I know, a bunch of cops burst in. Knocked the hell out of me. Threw me in cuffs, dragged me off to jail. I’ve been here ever since. And now they pulled you two in too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Minutes ran into hours, and hours followed hours. No advocate arrived. No further explanation was given.

  The call for lights-out came. We’d missed dinner, Frank told us, though it had not been much to write home about anyway. We had two cots, but I lay beside Maggie. It was uncomfortable, and we barely fit lying on our sides. But the fact was, aching and increasingly terrified, I couldn’t be alone at the moment.

  Mags propped her head up on one arm, and wrapped me in the other. Kissing me tenderly on the cheek, she said, “Sleep, baby. Everything will be alright tomorrow.” It took a while, but eventually, I did sleep.

  I woke stiffer and sorer than I’d gone to bed. Every inch of my back throbbed from the baton beating the day before, and my head felt like it was in a vise that was turning a little tighter with every movement.

  With the morning I realized just how bare our cell was, too. Other than a toilet, situated behind a half-wall privacy barrier, and a soap dispenser and foot-press water tap, the cots were the only fixture of the room.

  Our captors hadn’t even bothered with toiletries like toothbrush and toothpaste. We had no hairbrushes. Hell, they didn’t have a cubby for tampons. What am I going to do if I get my period? It wasn’t that far away, and I had no idea how long we’d be here. How did they handle that, in a Kudarian prison? Did they dispense supplies as needed? Do Kudarian women actually have periods? I didn’t know that much about Kudarian biology, and the thought occurred that they might not be so afflicted as human women were. Certainly, it would be a boon for them, in prison or out.

  But what would it mean for us?

  I tried not to think of that. I tried not to think of how gross my breath would be after days without brushing my teeth. I tried not to wonder when we’d be allowed showers, much less if we’d be allowed showers.

  I rinsed my mouth out with water, and waited for Mags to wake. She did, a little while later, and seeme
d more preoccupied with the swollen purples of my face than anything else.

  We didn’t have a mirror, so I had no idea how I looked. And the fact was, I was happy not knowing. It hurt badly enough. I didn’t need to see the bruising to know it was bad.

  She was distracted from fussing over me by the arrival of breakfast. A heavyset guard slipped two bowls through the bars, saying in a thick kind of Kudarian brogue, “Eat. I’ll be back in an hour to collect the bowls.”

  “Oh God,” I said, staring into the lumpy gray contents of those bowls – something between a liquid and a solid. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’d give anything to eat Dave’s cooking right now.”

  “Me too,” Frank said from behind the barrier between us. “But don’t tell him I said so.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” I smiled. “Morning, Frank.”

  “Morning Kay. How’re you doing?”

  “Eh, I mean, we’re being framed for a murder we didn’t commit of some person we don’t know; denied legal representation; and fed…whatever the hell this is. You mean, other than that?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. Other than that.”

  “Alright, I guess. And you?”

  “Alright, I guess.”

  “What is this supposed to be, Frank? This food, I mean,” Maggie asked.

  “It looks like breakfast porridge. But, missing the fruit and seasoning. So, basically, just boiled walja seed.”

  “Yum.”

  “No. Walja seed is so bland it’s almost tasteless.”

  He wasn’t kidding. It was thick, pasty and utterly flavorless. Somehow, the lukewarm temperature only made it worse.

  “Eat,” Maggie urged as I shoveled my spoon through the goop. “We don’t know when they’ll feed us again. And I doubt it’ll be better.”

  “No,” I agreed. “But at least I’ll be hungrier.”

  “You are hungry,” she said. “Your stomach’s been growling all morning.”

  “I know. Just…not hungry enough for this, I think.” Still, I choked some down. It was heavy, like swallowing spoonful after spoonful of lead, and settled with an uncomfortable weight in the pit of my stomach.