“More’s the pity,” Martha mumbled, and then said, “It worked, by the way, which is the bottom line, if you haven’t figured that out yet. You certainly weren’t getting anywhere in the convincing department. And what’s more important: that she accept what you are and where you come from, or that she continue to think you were lying to her, which was going to put a big dent in the recent bonding you did?”
He stopped at that point to look down at Brittany, wanting confirmation. “Do you?”
She knew what he was asking her, and although she would have liked to relieve his mind, since he did seem to be worried about whether she believed them or not, she had to consider her own peace of mind first. And there were other explanations, albeit elab
orate, incredibly expensive ones, yet ones much more palatable than that she was traveling into deep space. When she thought of what it must have cost to create a studio big enough to give her the impression that she was looking out at the surface of the moon when she’d looked through that door … it simply boggled the mind, the effort these people were going to in order to fool her.
Or maybe it wasn’t just her; maybe there were other people being put through the same program. She’d hate to think all this trouble was being wasted on just one person, such subtle details, a new view behind every door, out every window. Was she a test subject? Had Dalden blown it by getting involved with her when he shouldn’t have? Martha had certainly made enough complaints about that involvement, and enough predictions that it just wouldn’t work, to stop it before it got started, But Dalden got involved anyway…
“No,” Brittany said, causing Martha to make a snorting sound of disgust, and Dalden to frown in confusion. She added tonelessly, “That’s not to say I don’t think that the reason for this elaborate deception isn’t for my own good, which is why I’m going to accept it for now and trust that at least your emotions are real‑”
“What emotions?” Martha cut in. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed yet that he doesn’t have any.”
“Excuse me? Everyone has emotions. You told me yourself that he was annoyed.”
“Actually, that was an understatement on my part. He was furious, still is, but you’ll never see a Sha‑Ka’ani warrior stomping around mad to prove it. A Ba‑Har‑ani warrior, maybe. The ones from his country pride themselves on absolute calm under any circumstances, which means they’ve done away with the more common emotions that might interfere with that calm.”
“Sure, if you say so,” Brittany replied.
That got a chuckle out of Martha, but Dalden was more concerned with her “no.” “I fail to understand. How can you not believe, yet be accepting?”
“It’s called humoring, Dalden,” Martha put in. “In other words,
while she’s not going to give any credit to what she sees or hears, she’s going to smile and go along with it all. She’s decided it doesn’t matter. Actually, she does know better; she’d just prefer to decide it doesn’t matter.”
It was absolutely uncanny, the way Martha could analyze and dissect someone’s thoughts and motives from just a few spoken words, like a psychiatrist guessing right the first time around. Brittany had to keep in mind that these people had probably done this before, knew just what to expect, and so had answers for everything already prepared. But given enough thought, she could come up with answers for everything as well, from a different, more believable slant.
She just couldn’t come up with a good reason why she was being put through this program. Some not so good reasons, yes, but not a really good one. If she were a scientist or someone in a position of power, then yes, it might be for national security reasons or something similar, to see if she could be tricked into revealing secrets or joining their cause or whatever. But she was just an average person, so why would they need to mess with her mind? What, after all, could she do for them or tell them, if they did manage to get her to believe what they were trying to?
“You do not dispute what Martha said,” Dalden finally remarked. “Is it true?”
“That I’m humoring you?” Brittany replied uncomfortably. I prefer to think of it as keeping my sanity, so how ‘bout we
give it a rest for today, okay? I’ve been fed enough for one sitting, more than I can stomach. I’m here, I’ll listen, I’ll
probably even ask questions. And I’ll ooh and aah when I should. But‑no more today.
I’m mentally exhausted, and stressed beyond coping.”
“She’s only slightly exaggerating, Dalden, but she could use some form of relaxant‑either a round or two of lovemaking, or a visit to the massager unit in the ship’s gym. My Tedra swore by the latter, until she got introduced to the former. In our Brittany’s case, though, I’d say the latter for the time being would be more appropriate. No point in testing her resolve at the moment on what
she’s going to believe or not. And since you are part and parcel of what gets believed or not, you’ll avoid any hurt pride on your end by practicing hands‑off for now.”
The blush that had started with that “round or two of lovemaking was gone by the time Martha finished. Brittany groaned inwardly. She had already considered how Dalden would feel about her disbelief if he believed all this, but she hadn’t given it any in‑depth thought, really‑until now. He’d see it as a lack of trust, obviously, which could cause a really big breach between them, and one that wouldn’t be crossable unless one of them changed opinions.
She didn’t want to lose him, but damn it all, had she even had him to begin with, or was that just part of the program, too? It was beyond comprehensible that she might have been seduced, her emotions deliberately tied up in knots, all as part of the program or whatever the hell it was these people were trying to accomplish.
“I’m reading higher levels of upset, Dalden. Take her to the massager unit now.”
Chapter Thirty‑two
BRITTANY HAD NEVER EXPERIENCED ANYTHING QUITE like it. She’d splurged and treated herself to a fifty‑dollar massage once, after the Completion of one of the more grueling jobs she’d worked on. She’d had the kinks worked out of her body in a most Painful manner and had come away from that experience thinking that massages sucked, that causing more pain to forget about current pain just didn’t work for her. Yet by the next day, all those kinks had been gone. This was nothing like that. This was total, 100 percent relaxation, an absolute pleasure, and she was sorry when the lid finally opened, asking her silently to get out.
She’d been afraid to get into it. It reminded her of a coffin, or more precisely, a sarcophagus, since it was shaped like a body. There were quite a few of them in the large gym, and dozens of other exercise machines that she’d never seen the like of before either. She knew all the current best‑of‑the‑best equipment available, yet nothing in this gym was familiar.
As for the massager, Dalden had assured her that she would enjoy the experience. He also complained that he couldn’t demonstrate it for her, since they didn’t make them in models long enough to fit him. Last, he assured her that if she wanted out of it before it was finished with her, she need only press up on the lid to have it open.
She’d had no trouble breathing after the top had closed on her, sealing her inside the box. That had really been her main hesitation about getting in. And then hundreds of little rollers and skinpressers moved over her body from head to toe, above and below her, in a gentle, thorough massage. She had felt the tension leaving her body, the stress flowing out with it, felt so utterly loose and relaxed that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand up.
When she got out she found that Dalden hadn’t stuck around for a well‑deserved “I told you so.” But standing there apparently waiting on her was one of the loveliest women she’d ever encountered in person, the stuff models were made of, a face meant for the front page of magazines. Blonde, amber‑eyed, golden‑skinned and not quite as tall as Brittany, but taller than average. She was wearing a white one‑piece jumpsuit that looked like a uniform and
fit like a second skin, in a thin, stretchy material. She was also wearing a very friendly simile, even though her eyes were avidly curious.
Brittany was just as curious, and asked, “Who are you?”
The smile got wider. “My name is Shanelle Van’yer. Dalden didn’t mention me?”
Brittany stiffened, ruining a good portion of the work that the massager had just done on her. “No, he didn’t. Should he have?”
“I suppose not. I’ve been dying to meet you, though. I could not believe it when Martha told me that Dalden had chosen his lifemate. And after knowing you for only two days! Such impulsiveness just isn’t in his genes.
“You know him well, then?”
“Shanelle, sweetie.” Martha’s voice interjected from one of the wall monitors across the room. “YOU might Want to take a precautionary step or two back before she socks you one, because she’s about as livid with Jealousy as a humanoid can get at the moment.
Shanelle merely frowned. “Jealous? Why?”
Martha was quick to answer in one of her drier tones, “Possibly because you didn’t make clear that you’re a relation of Dalden’s rather than a fun‑sharing companion.”
It was an utter exaggeration that she was livid with Jealousy, but it still had Brittany blushing profusely, because she had just experienced some serious, but apparently unwarranted, negative emotion.
“A relation?” she asked.
“His sister, or to be more exact, his twin.”
“Sister?” Brittany said hollowly, and her blush got ten times worse.
The beautiful Shanelle gave her a beautiful smile. “His only sibling, for that matter. Our father decided two of us were enough after our mother went through he]] having us. Not that it was a really difficult delivery for her, just that they don’t deliver babies where she comes from, so it was an experience she couldn’t really relate to on any level.”
Brittany stared at her. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask for a detailed explanation, but she decided there was no way an explanation was going to make sense.
Instead she said, “I think I’ll have another round in this massager.
“The machine knows when you’ve had enough, can sense it by the looseness of your muscles, in the same way it senses the tightness, to know which areas need the most work. It won’t operate on you again until you need it to work on you. It doesn’t operate on want.’ In that respect, it’s like a meditech unit.”
“What’s that, a doctor in a box?”
“I know you were being sarcastic there, but that’s pretty much
exactly what a meditech unit is. It’s one of the crowning achievements of Kystrani scientists. They’re pretty expensive, so they haven’t made the medical profession completely obsolete, since not all planets can afford them. Those that can tend to have one or more units in each town. Most ships also have a unit on them, except for the smaller traders. A battleship like this one would of course have quite a few.”
“What exactly are we‑you‑talking about?” Brittany demanded.
Shanelle frowned. “Martha gave me a Sublim tape on your language. I thought I had it down pat. Wasn’t I making sense to you.
I understood every word. I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The doctor in a box, that ring a bell?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No, it’s called a meditech unit.”
“Okay, I’ll bite for the moment,” Brittany said with a sigh. “What’s it do?”
“Everything except bring life back‑and deliver babies. It does everything a doctor can do, just a whole lot quicker. It accelerates the healing process to such an extent that it’s almost instantaneous. It cures disease, mends bones and ripped skin and muscle is so thorough in fixing anything that’s abnormal that even old scar tissue gets erased.”
“Do you realize what you’re describing is nothing short of miraculous?”
Shanelle shrugged. “If it helps, a lot of worlds agree with your rather, disbelieve, just like you. Sha‑Ka’an was the same, but it’s kinda hard to dispute when you actually see someone injured beyond repair, about to die, and then after a Transfer to a meditech they are back to perfect health. It’s so miraculous that the Sha‑ Ka´ani, who want absolutely nothing to do with off‑world inventions and high technology, ordered at least one meditech unit for each of their towns. If something can save your life when nothing else can, that’s worth having around, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” Brittany agreed. “If something like that really exists.”
Shanelle grinned at her. “Let’s hope you never need to find out.”
“No, why don’t we prove it to me instead.”
Shanelle blinked. “You want to get injured just to experience something firsthand? I really don’t think Dalden would allow that.”
“You said it erases scars, didn’t you? Well, I’m loaded with them‑no biggies, but lots of little ones, a hazard of my profession.”
“She’s got you there, kiddo,” Martha’s voice purred from across the room. “Take her to Medical. This ought to be interesting.”
Brittany wasn´t sure she wanted to go now. If Martha was all for it, then there must be some new trick awaiting her there. The massager had been nice, but she wouldn’t be surprised if something like that had been invented already but just wasn’t on the market yet for the general public. But this so‑called meditech was about as believable as a spaceship was.
She followed Shanelle anyway. Curiosity was human nature, as well as walking eyes‑open into traps because of it. So what would they tell her when she still had her scars afterward? That the machine was currently malfunctioning, or that the scars were too old to be erased?
There was a row of them in the pristine white room called Medical, but no technicians around to operate them. They were longer than the massager, wider, deeper, and really did resemble oversized coffins. Brittany almost balked at getting into one of them. This was ridiculous. The thing couldn’t do what they said it could. Yet this was her idea; she couldn’t back down from it now. Well, she could, but she preferred to not give a cowardly impression if she could help it.
The lid on the closest one opened automatically as soon as she got near it. The unit was low to the floor, the bottom about the height of a couch, easy to sit down and stretch out in. It was padded on all sides, and not as deep as its size seemed to indicate. Considering that there wasn’t much depth to the lid either, they would probably only accommodate lean people, which was pretty Silly when you considered people came in all sizes and shapes.
“What happens when people with a weight problem need to use one of these?” she asked as she cautiously laid down on the one that had opened for her.
“I mentioned they aren’t designed to deal with pregnancies, didn’t I?”
mean just your average person who likes to eat too much.”
“Ohhh, well, I suppose they would need to lose some weight first.
“And die in the meantime?”
Shanelle smiled. “The world that created these is a world that no longer uses its animal resources, the few it has left anyway, for food purposes. They subsist on food that has the texture, taste, and look of the real stuff, but it’s not real, and it’s virtually impossible to become overweight on such a regulated, nutritious diet.
“But you also said these get sold to other worlds‑have they all conquered obesity?”
“No, indeed, but can you imagine a better incentive to keep
your body healthy? I’m sorry, that was a rather tasteless bit of humor; Actually, most of the higher advanced worlds have ‘conquered,’ as you put it, such health problems, if not through government, regulation then with simple intelligence and an appreciation of a healthy environment. Then, too, you have militaristic worlds that” I keep fit for other than health reasons. Either way, once a world, has been discovered, they can opt to advance their way of life, or..” continue to progress normally. The League of Confederated Planets
, has a strict policy of noninterference if a planet opts for he latter.
“But why would anyone refuse such‑miracles‑if they were offered?”
“For any number of reasons, including ingrained culture, ignorance, natural distrust of off‑worlders‑” Laughter circled, echoed: about the room from the many wall monitors, causing Shanelle to make a face before adding, “Okay, and warrior stubbornness.”
I think she was being amused by my distrust,” Brittany said, making a face of her own.
Shanelle just grinned. “Don’t kid yourself, kiddo. The ShaKa’ani have other worlds beat hands down when it comes to not liking off‑worlders and off‑world inventions.”
Shanelle stepped back then, and the lid closed on Brittany. Panic flared, but didn’t last long. Once again she was completely encased in one of their machines, but this one was simply like a soft heat that moved around her, passing over all her limbs, a tingle here and there, and then the lid popped open again.
Brittany frowned as she sat back up. No more than a few seconds had passed, barely enough time to hear the low hum on the machine as it came to life and to feel that gentle heat surrounding her. just as she’d figured. They were going to claim the thing had malfunctioned.
She beat them to it. “Not working, huh?”
Shanelle frowned at her. “Why? You still have some scars left?”
Expecting excuses, Brittany hadn’t even thought to look down for proof. She glanced at her left hand, the one that had suffered the most injuries during the years she’d been learning her craft. She looked at both sides of it. Then she brought it up in front of her face for closer examination.
Her expression must have mirrored her incredulity, because Martha, viewing the room from the wall unit across from her, complained, “Oh, sure, I offer her a walk on the moon and she’s still skeptical, but one little visit to a meditech and she enters ‘have to believe it’ mode.”
Brittany snapped her jaw shut and gritted her teeth. “It’s hypnosis, isn’t it? The scars are still there, you’ve just convinced my mind not to see them.”
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