Ben took the dishes to the kitchen and returned to sit back down in the same spot. He limped, but only slightly. “Now to our plan.”
“Those are the uniforms, you'll have to wear the light gray one,” Miranda jumped in.
Ben gave her a scrunched eyebrowed expression, “I thought darker uniforms had higher rank, why can't I have the black one?”
“You aren't equipped for it.”
“My telepathy and telekinesis are well developed, and gaining strength as we speak, at least according to Gene. Besides I doubt they'll give me an aptitude test during the brief time we're there.”
Miranda had to smile, “No, I mean you're not physically equipped. You are built all wrong for the job. Only women wear those uniforms. I don't have the male equivalent for it. I'm not quite sure there is a male equivalent.”
“I see,” Ben picked up the light gray uniform, it was just a one piece jumpsuit, as opposed to Miranda's three piece Djheen uniform. “So what would this make me? A private? corporal? sergeant?”
“They don't have ranks like that. The closest I can come to explaining would be crash test dummy.”
“Swell, I suppose that means my job is to grovel at your illustrious feet,” Ben said sarcastically.
“No, someone of that rank would tremble and cower in the presence of a Djheen. You would leap to commands, with a slowness based in the reasonable fear that I will kick you for inadequacy. And under no circumstances do you make eye contact with anyone in a dark uniform, not even someone else wearing your shade. The only ones you can make eye contact with are the prisoners. Then you are expected to torture unmercifully. Oh, and whether or not that palm print works don't hesitate at doorways. Walk right towards it as though you expect it to open. Pause for befuddlement only after you've rammed your nose into the door. That is less conspicuous. Once as a child I watched one light-coat walk into the same door over twenty times. It wouldn't open more than a crack. He managed to knock himself out. Theoretically the servo was malfunctioning, but I think someone higher up was just getting their sadistic jollies watching the poor man put a dent in his head.”
“Was that how it really was?” Ben leaned forward on his seat.
“Yeah, and that's one of my pleasant memories. Dichen encouraged me to laugh my head off at the poor guy,” Miranda shook her head at the memory. At the time she'd felt uncomfortable about it, and not just because she could empathically feel each blow the man inflicted upon himself, now it seemed downright shameful.
“Who was Dichen?”
Miranda released a thoughtful sigh, “He was my trainer, my handler, the guy in charge of turning me into a Djheen. I think he may have even been the guy that found me. I really can't remember that far back. Enough about him, do you understand my instructions?”
“Yeah, cower, tremble, obey, no eye contact, and bounce off of doors.”
“This isn't a joke. To even have half a hope this idiotic plan will work you've got to try to blend,” despite herself, Miranda punctuated her statement with an eye-closing yawn.
“Okay, I promise to take it seriously, but only if you'll promise to take a nap,” Ben answered, “That means no more piddling around with those falsies, no more strategizing, no more worrying, and no more hobbling around on your poor ankle. Deal?”
Miranda eyed his outstretched hand and his goofy grin and couldn't help feeling her guts going mushy again. “Deal,” She answered without taking his hand.
“I'll stop by later and make you dinner,” Ben smiled and left. Miranda watched him go and let her dry heavy eyes blink closed. The next thing she knew, she was deep in dreamland. Miranda slept and dreamt fleeting dreams, all that remained of them when she awoke to the sound of the door buzzer was a smile. Sleepily she leapt from the couch and went to the door to open it. She tapped the pad and it slid open.
“Get off that ankle!” Tina shouted, shoving her way into the room. That's when Miranda really woke up.
The chronometer showed not more than two hours had passed since Ben's visit, “I was off of it until someone came to the door.”
Tina blustered over to the couch and sat down on the couch and started emptying a medical kit onto the coffee table. “Yeah, like I'm gonna believe that. Sit your butt down over here and let me take a good look at it.” Tina ordered.
Miranda teleported back to the couch in compliance, noticing that standing hadn't really caused her any pain. She suspected Tina would find her ankle nearly healed, but didn't want to argue the point. “Yes ma’am.”
Tina gently lifted Miranda's ankle and examined it, “I'll be a... Gene said it should show some improvement but not that it would be healed.” Tina probed the remaining bruising with her fingertips. Then attacked the ankle with the same scanners Gene had used last night. “You didn't have it wrapped up did you?”
“No, it wasn't necessary, neither in my opinion was resting. When I twisted the other one it was healed before I could slow down enough to bandage it.” Miranda flexed and rotated her ankle, which was stiff but nearly pain free.
Tina grunted and started poking at her pop-pad. “So this hasn't been the first time. How did you do it.”
“Which time?”
“Both.”
“The first time I jumped out of a second story window, this time I... tripped over some rubble. I thought I saw a friend. It wasn't him.”
“It may be weak ankles or just freak accidents, still I should make a note of it. We don't have a proper trait profile on our family. We haven't been around very long. You and I are only first generation briaunti. Most families have eight to twelve generations under their belts. They at least know what to expect from the genes.” Tina filled in while typing in Miranda's response. “Some families are prone to pyrokinetics, others to webbed toes. Ellen's kids all have high Everett ratings and tendencies towards red hair. So far all we have are freakish Everett traits. You and mom are super high and I'm not even here.”
Miranda leaned back into the couch and felt for Tina, like she had with Gene. She felt something, a buzzing itch at the back of her brain, but couldn't necessarily connect it to Tina. Miranda got so deep into looking she missed Tina's next three statements.
“I said do you think you could... Oh never mind!”
“What?” Miranda shook herself, “I'm sorry I was listening, just not to your mouth.”
Tina frowned with her lips while her eyes lit up like question marks, “And what did you hear?
“A buzz.”
Tina crossed her arms, scrunched her eyebrows together and glared, “What did you expect to hear? I thought you already knew I was a deaf mute. Just like Gene, nobody can hear me.”
“I can hear Gene.”
“You can? Does he know that?”
“Yeah, it only works part of the time, but he sounds different even when he's quiet. You sound more like Ellen.” Miranda experimentally stood on her ankle, feeling out the condition from inside.
“Like Ellen?” Tina gathered her scanners back into her kit. Then she began typing into her pop-pad.
“Yeah. Look is my ankle enough better to you know, get to work?”
“Does it feel enough better to get around on?” Tina tucked her pop-pad into her kit, “I'd have to say that would be the biggest indicator.”
“Okay, I guess. I need to talk to Ben.”
“Yeah, and check in with Angela before you go.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ben stood outside Miranda's quarters with a full tray of food, dinner for both of them. He'd selected a sampling of various things from the available menu items listed when he'd asked his delivery cupboard about dinner. He stood outside of her door, planning his next move. If he buzzed she would probably leap to answer it. If he teleported in he'd probably catch her in a compromising position. If he stood where he was much longer he would probably lose his nerve. Before Ben managed to decide on doing anything, the door hissed open to the sound of female laughter, Miranda and Tina's.
Ben looked down at his tray, up at Tina's face and into the apartment at Miranda sitting on the arm of her couch. “I brought dinner.”
Tina sniffed the tray, “No thanks, I've got to head to the clinic for my evening shift. Maybe she'd like some.” Tina replied with an impish grin.
“Leave him alone!” Miranda growled at Tina.
Ben stood with his eyes frozen on the lingering smile on Miranda's face, a smile which faded when Miranda finally turned her eyes and her regard on Ben. It faded to a look of cool resentment, or at least that was how Ben interpreted it. He tried to feel for the thoughts behind it, but Miranda flicked his mind away with what appeared to be less mental effort than Ben put into blowing his nose. Ben did his best not to put his reaction to the rebuff on his face, which was so near Tina's. Still he could tell from her expression that she saw it.
“Hey, did I not mention I was leaving?” Tina whined. Her face conveyed the message they would talk later as Ben stepped out of her way.
Once Tina had passed Ben was left standing awkwardly on the threshold. “Come in. You know I once spent time on a planet where the natives were afraid of doorways. At first I thought it was superstition. Later I found out that their people were being harassed by an apparently malicious entity; which kidnapped them as they passed through any kind of doorway, gate or passage way. Despite the harshness of the winters all of their doorways were large enough for half the tribe to go through side by side. None of them would go through in groups smaller than a basketball team. They did a strange sort of linked ballet through them. They thought I was either incredibly brave or a congenital moron for going through alone.”
Ben listened as he approached Miranda. When she was finished an awkward silence hung in the air until Miranda made a point of noticing the food. “So what did you bring?”
Ben sat the tray on the coffee table, “A little bit of a lot of different things.”
“It all smells delicious. Do you mind?” Miranda delicately lifted a seafood filled savory pastry to her lips. Ben shook his head and watched as her delicate yet full lips parted to taste the bite sized tidbit.
“Mmm,” She hummed in satisfaction. “Food was never this good when I was growing up. Eating was a thing you did, not necessarily enjoyed. When the old woman fed me my first meal after my escape. I worried eating would become a chore I might do without. She fed me the most awful gruel. I don't know how she kept a straight face...” Miranda's voice faded as Ben watched her get caught in thought.
“Miranda?” Ben snapped his fingers, after a few minutes didn't bring her back around to the conversation. She shook her head towards Ben and he watched as her eyes found focus on his, “Sorry, a thought just occurred to me. What were you saying?”
“I wasn't. You were talking about an old woman.”
“Yeah, very old, and I'm beginning to think quite well traveled.” Miranda popped a mini egg roll in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“What about her?”
“Nothing for sure yet, just some interesting guesses.”
“Can you be more cryptic,” Ben reached for a stalk of celery filled with flavored cream cheese.
“Yeah, never mind, it isn't important. Tina says my ankle's healed. So we can probably go tomorrow.” Miranda mumbled as she munched. “That is if your foot is okay.”
Ben chewed, swallowed and coughed, “It's fine. Are you sure you're ready? I mean you haven't taken much time to really recover.”
Miranda stuffed a dumpling in her mouth and chewed. Ben couldn't get her to look at him. “My gut says it is time.” Miranda finally answered.
“Mine says to eat my supper,” Ben took another mouthful.
“I'm serious,” Miranda put down the morsel she was about to eat, “I feel like I need to get this over with to move on.”
“Okay, we'll go first thing in the morning. I'll arrange it with Angela,” Ben smiled, “At least they'll know where to go to rescue us.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Miranda spent her morning waiting for, “first thing in the morning,” to arrive. She had started out patiently excited, but as morning began to wear deeply into afternoon, her patience wore out. She was just about to go looking for Ben when her door buzzer made it's noise. She whacked the pad with her telekinesis and had a frown ready for Ben.
“So this is what you call first thing in the...” Miranda began to scold, but had to clamp her mouth shut to avoid an explosion of laughter at the sight of Ben bent over double. He had his arm up to the elbow in the extra dimensional thigh pocket of his dark uniform.
“I feel like I should be scratching my ankle by now,” Ben said straightening up to look her in the eye.
“Where have you been, Ben?” Miranda asked only barely able to cover her amusement with a scowl.
Ben entered and flopped into a chair with an exaggerated sigh of frustration. “I talked to Angela last night after I left, told her our plans, and showed her the uniform. She took it and sent it to the tech boys to get factor rigged. I've spent most of the day attempting to retrieve it. Don't ever believe anyone who says, 'No problem just go get it from R&D.' The research and development department is bigger and more tangled than I don't know what. What's worse is that a lot if not most of those guys are quite literally mad scientists.”
“Oh.” Miranda responded. She moved to the chair across the coffee table from Ben, “Are you ready then?”
Ben sighed again and Miranda noticed the slow way his eyes traveled over her body, taking in every inch of her Djheen uniform. “Yeah, I guess. You look the part.”
Miranda shrugged at him. She hadn't been able to bring herself to even fake the tattoo. She hoped the clothes would be enough. “You're in the lead. That is, I'm assuming you know the way to teleport to where we're going.”
“Yeah, but first I should relay Angela's orders. One, she insists on emergency transporters. Here's yours,” Ben fastened a bracelet on Miranda's wrist, “You activate it by twisting that jewel. If either of us activates, we both return here. Item two, this is a reckon mission. We are to avoid causing a fiasco.”
“What exactly constitutes a fiasco?” Miranda asked fiddling with the bracelet before tucking it under the sleeve of her jacket.
“I think she means we're to be on our best behavior, and that we should try to avoid throwing any wrenches into the works around here.”
“Okay. Give me your right hand and let me glue this down.” Miranda held up the fake palm print she'd selected for Ben. Ben held out his hand and she applied it. “Got it, let's go.” Miranda capped the adhesive.
Ben examined the appliance and flexed his hand. “You know there's just one thing. I'm not entirely clear on why we need these. When Daniel and I were there, rescuing you, we didn't have any problems getting around. We found only a handful of doors locked, and they weren't any big deal. I just sliced through the locks. Then they swung right on open.”
“That's weird. They use mostly sliding doors for that very reason,” Miranda felt another caterpillar of doubt and fear hatch in her gut. She knew if they didn't get moving soon, the butterflies in her stomach would paralyze her. “Shouldn’t we get moving.”
“Yeah, follow me.” Ben smiled and disappeared. Miranda found following him through space time deceptively difficult. Ben left only a very small wake through the fabric of space-time. In the end she made it to their destination right behind him.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Chapter 19
...And Running...
-----------------------------------
Ben steadied himself with a hand to the wall. He had forgotten just how dark this place was. His guts swirled and tried to turn themselves inside out and his pulse throbbed in his skull. It hadn’t seemed this bad last
time. Then again last time his rating had been less than half of what it was now. Ben felt Miranda arrive behind him. Her neatly shielded mind became a soothing point of reference in the darkly swirling telepathic chaos of the place. Last time he had shielded himself by focusing on the practice room, this time he focused on wrapping a soothing mental image of Miranda’s shields around his mind. Finally he found enough focus to proceed.
Ben turned to Miranda, “I’ll go to the right down this corridor you go left.”
“Insolent turd,” Miranda growled stiffly then smacked him causing his head to spin. Briefly he questioned whether she had somehow fooled everyone and was really evil, but then he felt her soothing telepathic touch, “Someone was watching, Remember your cover.”
Ben nodded and assumed a submissive posture. His memory flashed back to everything she’d told him yesterday. He locked into that discussion and swore to himself that he wouldn’t forget again. He allowed a fleeting glance up at Miranda. She was examining markings at eye level on the wall. To Ben they looked like the scribbles of a child, or perhaps something resembling one of the middle eastern alphabets.
“Left is prisoner records, right is prisoner detainment. There might be something in one of the rooms. Look for a door, it’ll have this word on it or somewhere near it. There may be something about the girl in there.” Miranda pointed to one of the words scribbled on the wall.
“Got ya,” Ben started off down the hall in the direction she’d indicated.
It didn’t take long for him to find the door; just as she’d said the word was printed sloppily on the door. Ben placed the fake palm print on the door pad and after a moment it slid open. Inside there were about ten grimy file cabinets. Ben went to the first. Opening the top drawer he evidently had expected the files to be plainly labeled and written in English. What he found was more of the scribbled alphabet. He had no way of finding out anything from them, without looking through each file to see if the picture matched what he could remember of the possible pictures of girl 22.
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