“Everyone injured in the police action is being seen to,” Lady Novan said, waving away the issue. “Which you also already knew.”
“Police action, such a sanitized word. Almost fit for surgery, I must say.”
Gertrude had had enough. She wanted answers, not this pedantic sparring.
“Enough,” she barked, smacking her palm down onto the table. The doctor jumped at the unexpected noise, enough so that Gertrude honestly wondered if he had forgotten she was there.
Behind her Gertrude heard the click of the door’s lock latching, and realized that the police officer had slipped out of the room while all three of them had been distracted.
“Are you here to trade barbs with me as well?” the doctor asked, looking over Gertrude again. “You labor with your hands, something… mechanical yes? Hints of engine grease in the nail beds, no tan to speak of, and short hair. Hmm, starships, then? That requires a degree of skill, to be sure, but not a great intellect.”
“I don’t care what you want from me,” Gertrude fumed, “and neither should you. The better question is what you can give me.”
“And why would I care about that? It’s not like I don’t know how this will end. You threaten me, I talk, or I don’t, and eventually the corrupt nobles dump me in some dreary prison until I am ‘rehabilitated,’ while forcing me to use my medical skills to care for my fellow inmates and pocketing the money saved on a doctor they have to actually pay.”
“Oh, Doctor, I was hoping for better from you. Surely you must have figured out why a starship mechanic from off world would be in here?” Lady Novan said, stepping back to lean against the back corner, gesturing for Gertrude to take her spot front and center.
“Off world, you say? Hmm, yes, I did ignore the accent, non-relevant data and all that. Not police, not refined enough for nobility…”
While he prattled on Gertrude thought through Lady Novan’s hint for her in her words for him. Time to play up her anger and connection, though her anger hardly needed stoking against the arrogant man before her.
“Where. Is. My. Daughter?” Gertrude roared, cutting him off with another slam of her fist on the table.
Gertrude would have dented the table as punctuation if she had possessed the strength. Morgan probably could have pulled it off, give the flimsy look of it, and the effect certainly would have helped her demands, but the noise was better than nothing.
The doctor actually looked puzzled.
“Why the false theater? Phenotypes are not remotely similar, I would have thought you capable enough to get someone who could pass for the girl’s…” the doctor trailed off.
“And I expected you to be just smart enough to notice that, but arrogant enough not to see the trap in revealing your deductions,” Lady Novan said, triumphantly.
“You have seen her,” Gertrude said, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and hauling him closer to her.
“Please, cut the theatrics,” the doctor said, trying to tug his shirt free from Gertrude’s grasp. “You can’t injure me. You’d risk my truthful claims of police brutality getting any conviction thrown out of court.”
“Do you see any police here?” Gertrude asked.
“No, but I do see a noble,” he answered with another sneer. “One who is supposed to be legally bound to uphold the law.”
Lady Novan laughed.
“So much for your conviction that we’re all corrupt and oppressive,” she said, mocking him with zero subtly.
“Oh? Are you admitting then that you are corrupt? Becoming a living symbol and martyr for my cause is certainly worth a thrashing, wouldn’t you say?”
Lady Novan actually shrugged.
“I have no authority over Gertrude. She’s not one of the Queen’s subjects, after all.”
“So you’d let the police arrest her after doing your dirty work? That’s cold enough for the Butcher, I must admit, but still won’t actually get the information you seek out of me.”
“Won’t it?” Lady Novan said, nodding for Gertrude to continue. “Perhaps not. But it will let Gertrude express some of the understandable rage she’s feeling, and the press will be falling all over themselves to cover the trial, and who do you think the public will side with? The woman who, admittedly, attacked a man, or the terrorist who kidnapped her daughter and orchestrated an attack on a shuttle full of women and children.”
“I did neither of those things and you know it.”
“And that will matter to the press?”
Gertrude meanwhile had grabbed his shirt with both hands, pulling him toward her as far as the short chains connecting his shackles to the table would allow.
“Last time. Where is she?”
“I won’t betray my comrades.” The doctor was trying to sound calm, but not succeeding.
“Very well then,” Lady Novan said. “I obviously can’t make any suggestions, ethically, but be mindful of what a human body needs working in order to speak.” With that she moved over to the door, rapping once on the metal to signal to her guard to open it for her.
“You’re going to leave me in here, with her?”
“Not at all, doctor. I’m simply leaving to get a drink. What this woman does or does not do is not in any way under my control. When I return we’ll resume this conversation. Maybe you’ll be in a better mood to talk then.”
Gertrude stood up, pulling the little man upright, the shackles digging into his skin as it was pulled taut. The door started closing behind Lady Novan…
“Wait!” he cried out. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. But I will have your word that none of my compatriots will know I talked.”
For a moment nothing happened. Then, slowly, the door opened, and Lady Novan strode back into the room. She nodded to Gertrude, who released the doctor.
“That is a reasonable request. Very well, you have my word. I believe you’ve already heard the woman’s question. Best get to answering it.”
CHAPTER 9
There is very little a government does well. Wasting time and money is, perhaps, not one the public wishes was among its strengths, but many prefer that to its other main strength, that of the utilization of force.
- Councilor Jorge Peterson, Diet of Nomad
THE DREAMS – nightmares – did not wake Morgan up.
Of course they didn’t. That would have been a mercy for her. As tense and anxious as the long hours of captivity were, they were heaven compared to the horrors her mind dredged up from her past, twisted and intensified by her current circumstances, and probably her head injury too.
Still, nightmares and Morgan were becoming well acquainted, and when she woke at last it was with a wrenching gasp rather than a full scream. She was drenched in sweat and panting, but it was at least progress.
She would have liked to wipe the sweat out of her eyes, but, she was still handcuffed.
At least they had taken out all the tubes before she had gone back to sleep the night before. Or… had it been this morning? Morgan had no idea what time of day it was at this point, between being trapped in a single room and having been unconscious for several days she had no way of knowing.
“Do you… do you think you could sleep a little quieter?” Lanky said, groaning from his cot on the other side of the room. Morgan couldn’t see him, the cot was lower than her bed and she couldn’t sit up.
“Do you think you could take these handcuffs off?” Morgan said instead of answering.
Muttering something Morgan couldn’t make out, Lanky sat up and went to the panel by the wall, checking something.
“I guess it is close enough to morning,” he said after a moment. “Do you want food first?”
“Right now I want the handcuffs off.”
“Fine, but they’re going back on as soon as I leave to get our breakfast.”
“Yeah, you made that clear before. Hurry up.” Morgan paused, sighing inwardly. “Please,” she added, a bit more quietly. I need allies. Don’t forget that, Morgan, she told herself.
Lanky retrieved the key from wherever it was stored, unfortunately Morgan couldn’t see that end of the room very well, and then he moved over to her side.
As he got close he wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste.
“I’ve seen corpses that smelled better than you.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel pretty, don’t you?” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “Of course I stink. You haven’t let me off this bed in days, except to use the bathroom. Why don’t you do yourself a favor and fix that problem?”
“Fine,” he repeated. “Though you probably won’t enjoy this as much as your last wash.”
“Why is that?” Morgan asked. Now that he was standing she could see him much more clearly. He was blushing, furiously, in fact.
“We aren’t going to repeat our mistakes. I can’t let you out of my sight, no matter what.”
“Umm, but surely…” Morgan said, stopping herself. Of course not. Maybe there was another way to come at the problem? “What about when you need to, you know?”
He shrugged.
“Someone else covers for me. You just haven’t noticed since you were asleep.”
“Unconscious,” Morgan corrected, absently. “But you left me alone when you went for food,” she countered.
He shrugged again.
That was just for a couple minutes, and you were tied to the bed. I don’t really think we can tie you up in the shower.”
Now it was Morgan’s turn to blush a bit, though he probably couldn’t tell thanks to her darker skin tone.
“I could… I could go get him now, if you’d prefer?” Lanky said, his blush somehow managing to deepen.
What do I even say to that? Morgan wondered. It wasn’t like this would be an entirely new experience for her – there were the regular scans to get her skinsuit adjusted, for one thing, and she’d shared quarters with several other mechanics on her last ship.
Those were all women though, her mind thought unbidden, and they weren’t your enemies, either. Or close to your own age.
“The less people… the… the better,” Morgan said at last, stuttering almost as badly as Lanky did at times. And better you than the Old Lady or Ms. Ice, even if they are women. Not that I seem to have a choice of who anyway.
Before taking Morgan over to a bathroom, Lanky left to find her some clothes.
It was just a t-shirt and baggy pants, both of which looked to be too big. At least they were clean.
***
Morgan was almost surprised and disappointed that Lanky’s head didn’t explode by the time she had finished and they had returned to the small room that served as Morgan’s prison. He had turned so red she could see his blush extending up to his scalp right through his short blonde hair. If she hadn’t been so embarrassed herself, it would have been funny.
The good news was she’d been able to figure out where her new cell was – and it was in fact close to the entrance they’d brought her through originally.
The bad news was that she’d needed his help just to walk that far, and several times more once there. Her balance was all out of alignment, causing her to stumble and waver on her feet, and she felt very weak.
I’m not going to escape on my own. If I don’t want to wait for them to decide it is ‘safe’ to let me go, I really am going to need help.
Hardly important at the moment, but distressing nonetheless, was the discovery that the doctor had shaved off some of her hair.
I suppose it was necessary, Morgan had thought when looking at it in the mirror. Hard to get a good look at a head wound through hair, and at least he left alone the top of my head. Then again, if his buddy hadn’t almost killed me in the first place I wouldn’t have needed it in the first place. So, okay, I’m mad at him.
“So… are we just going to sit here all day?” Morgan asked after they’d finished eating.
“Would you… would you rather walk around the base, with all the others?” Lanky sounded quite incredulous of that plan, and for good reason. Morgan thought it a terrible one too.
“Of course not. But there has to be something we can do? What about your equipment? I am a good mechanic, I could fix things for you.”
“And hide bits and pieces you could use to escape with? I don’t think so.”
Blast it, Morgan mentally bemoaned. That’s exactly what I wanted to do.
“I…” Morgan started to say, but Lanky waved her off and continued.
“Or build a communication device of some kind, or a homing beacon, or a weapon.”
“Are you done?”
“It is a long list.”
“I get the point.”
They sat in silence for an uncomfortably long time, Lanky leaning back on his chair, Morgan sitting with her legs crossed on her bed.
“You could tell me about your work?” Lanky suggested.
Morgan had to stop herself from groaning.
I’ve told you far more about myself than I’d like already, and you seriously think I’d want to share more? Instead she just shook her head and said, “How about you tell me about you? Prove to me that you aren’t just a bunch of heartless killers.”
Lanky didn’t respond for a moment, thinking it over.
“There isn’t much to tell. I’ve spent my entire life here, with the cell.”
“Didn’t you go to a school, at least of some kind?”
“And be indoctrinated into the nobility-loving rabble?” Lanky said. There was no heat in the reply, no real conviction.
“Instead you got indoctrinated by whoever said that to you?”
“I, well… uh,” Lanky stammered.
“Come on, tell me about it. How did you learn, if not in a school?”
It was a bit hypocritical of Morgan to be needling him about not going to school – she had hardly had a ‘normal’ school experience herself, even after escaping Hillman. But she needed to get him talking about something.
“There weren’t any other kids…” he stammered out at last, looking away for a moment. “They hadn’t planned on having me here, or at all, really.”
“And your parents told you that?” Morgan gasped, horrified. She’d been through plenty of nasty experiences in her life, but she’d always had the core knowledge that her parents had had wanted and loved her, more than anything else. Could I have even survived this long without that? Morgan thought. Probably not.
“I, uh, never knew my father,” Lanky said, after another long moment of silence. “I don’t think my mother knew him either,” he whispered, so quietly that Morgan barely heard it. A few moments later he looked back at her and continued. “But my mother always made sure I knew how much she loved me, and how much I brought to her life, even if it hadn’t been planned.”
“So they just, what, had you tag along here and pick it up as you went?”
“No, of course not. There are plenty of ways to learn without a school. They just, uh, they just screened all of it first, to get rid of the propaganda and lies.”
“Have you ever been outside of this base?”
Lanky snorted.
“Of course I have. I’m useful for scouting and such. The cops don’t have any record of me as being part of the movement.”
“But aside from that, aside from…” Morgan wasn’t sure what word applied, settling on, “jobs?”
“Too dangerous,” Lanky said with a shake of his head. “Most of our shopping and such is done by other members who aren’t known to the government.”
“Why don’t they do the scouting then?”
Lanky sighed.
“I probably shouldn’t be discussing this…”
“Come on, who am I going to tell?”
He just looked at her with a blank look on his face, slowly raising his eyebrows.
“Okay, fine, who am I going to tell that wouldn’t have already figured this out?”
He sighed.
“Fine. I don’t have an uplink. I’ve never had one. Without it, they can’t track me, but
I also can attract too much attention. The few of us who have never been caught, but grew up in the decadence out there,” Morgan could hear the slogans at work again, “have uplinks, and can move freely. They’re too valuable to send on any missions at all. Without them we’d have starved, or run out of bullets, or clothes, or something, years ago.”
“And you plan on overthrowing the government?”
“There are plenty of examples of poor uprisings toppling corrupt regimes,” Lanky protested.
“Okay, okay,” Morgan said, soothingly, “I don’t want to talk about that part of it anyway.”
One other thing occurred to Morgan.
“So… when I was teasing you about you never meeting any girls…?”
“It was, um, it was literally true,” Lanky said, looking away again. Morgan thought she could see a hint of blush on his cheeks again.
“Well, I hope I meet expectations,” Morgan said, carefully not saying anything about what expectations he did or did not meet himself.
“I wish…” Lanky started to say, stopping himself with a shake of the head.
“What?”
“I wish… I mean, I wish you understood why it is we’re doing this.” Lanky looked quite earnest as he said it, and a bit sad.
Gotcha, Morgan thought, a bit sad herself that she was manipulating this poor boy.
That lasted just long enough for her gaze to catch the handcuffs still attached to the railings on her bed, waiting for Lanky to put them back on.
Well, hopefully they’ll go easy on you when you get caught, since you were raised to believe everything they fed you.
Alarmingly, Morgan realized she actually did mean that.
Careful, girl, she admonished herself. Get him on your side, not the other way around.
While all that was going through her head Morgan sighed, extra dramatically.
“Let me tell you about the places I’ve been. Not Hillman, which really is a terrible place, or even Zion. Let me tell you about all the places I visited on my freighter, and how they compare to this home of yours you’ve never really even seen.”
Black Holiday (The Black Chronicles Book 2) Page 13
