by Jake Elwood
Chapter 2
Once, before the war, an armed freighter called the Free Bird had set out from Novograd with a crew of sixteen. Now, only a pitiful few remained.
They weren't all dead, Alice Rose reminded herself as she stared morosely around a holding area in the brig of the Sky Princess. Nine fellow prisoners sat with her, all of them dressed like her in civilian clothing. Some sat on the padded chairs that were scattered through the room. Others paced, or stood fidgeting. Naomi Silver leaned against a wall, drumming her fingers endlessly against the metal.
Five of her companions had been her shipmates on the Free Bird. The rest of the prisoners were from Rivendell, the hidden Free Planets base that had been captured by the Dawn Alliance, then liberated by the Kestrel.
Fagan, her one-time captain, was probably still alive, though his death would be no injustice. Three more crew had taken the Free Bird and as many refugees as it would hold and fled for the United Worlds base at Garnet weeks before. She chose to believe they were okay.
The rest of her absent crewmates were dead.
Except for Karen Chupick. Karen had been separated from the others and led through an ominous-looking red door on the far side of the room. Alice was doing her best not to worry, not to dwell on things she couldn't control, but her eyes kept straying to that door.
When the door finally slid open she came up halfway out of her seat. Karen, however, did not reappear. Instead it was the same two Dawn Alliance soldiers who had led her away. They glanced around the room, then said, “Charles Ross?”
There wasn't much point in prevaricating. They'd taken everyone's name when they'd captured the crew. Charlie stood, looking like he was frightened but trying to hide it, and walked over to the two soldiers.
They led him through the red door, and it slid shut behind them.
And Alice went back to trying not to be afraid.
The room was almost empty when her turn finally came. She stood, not knowing whether to be terrified or relieved that the waiting was finally over. “You're good at this name-reading stuff,” she said to the soldier on her left. “Did you take a lot of training for this job?”
He didn't speak, just gestured toward the door.
She started to walk, turning to the soldier on her right. “Not much of a conversationalist, is he? I bet he's real fun to work with.”
The man didn't speak, but there might have been the faintest hint of a smile on his face. It bothered Alice. She didn't want to think of her captors as people. She liked them better as anonymous monsters, people she could hate, people she could imagine being destroyed in the growing war.
The red door slid open, revealing a long and thoroughly ordinary corridor. Her silent guides led her around a corner and halted in front of a door with “Intelligence Services” stenciled on it. The door slid open, and a hand between her shoulder blades propelled her forward. She turned around, indignant, as the door slid shut, leaving the two soldiers on the far side.
“Have a seat, Ms. Rose.”
Alice turned. She was in a large office dominated by a wide steel desk. A heavyset man sat on the far side of the desk, his shoulders thick with gold braid, ranks of medals weighing down the front of his coat. She didn't know much about Dawn Alliance military ranks, but this man seemed like a pretty big wheel.
“Sit,” he said, and gestured at a point in front of his desk. “Don't make me tell you again.”
He didn't seem threatening at first glance. He had a round, plump face that made her think of Buddha, or of a well-fed baby. His arms and shoulders were thick, but it was fat, not muscle.
But something in his voice unnerved her. His voice and his cold, dead eyes. He reminded her of a kid she'd known in school, a girl who liked to step on bugs, and would giggle each time an insect died. She'd been known to step on mice the same way, when she could get at them.
Alice looked where he pointed. There was a chair in front of his desk, so small she'd overlooked it at first. It was tiny, designed for a child. She opened her mouth to protest, took another look at the man's lifeless eyes, then stepped over to the chair and sat down.
“Good. If you continue to cooperate, this will not be unpleasant for you.”
It's already unpleasant, she thought, squirming on the little chair. Her knees stuck up almost to the height of her shoulders. She had to keep her leg muscles flexed to keep from sliding off the tiny seat. If she flexed too hard, though, the chair would tip over backwards.
The man hadn't bothered to introduce himself, but his name hovered in a projection above the desk. Third Level Monkhbat. Third Level? What kind of rank is that? Who is this guy?
“I have some questions for you. Your companions have already been most forthcoming, so I will know if you lie to me.” He leaned forward. “The consequences for lies will be most unpleasant.”
It was stupid psychological bullshit. All of it, isolating her from the rest of the crew, the silent guards, the tiny chair, all of it was designed to frighten her, to make her feel helpless. It was crude and obvious – but that didn't stop it from being effective.
Her heart hammered away as if she'd just run a half marathon. She wanted to say something flippant, something rude, but she was sure her voice would come out as a frightened squeak. So she gave him an indifferent shrug and gazed into the air above his head.
“How did you come to be aboard the Kestrel?”
“I was dragged aboard.” It wasn't entirely untrue. The first time she'd boarded the frigate, she'd been a prisoner.
“Don't play games with me. It's so tiresome when I have to have an interview subject beaten. Tell me about how you came to be a prisoner aboard a United Worlds warship.”
Alice was careful to maintain a mask of indifference, but she felt a surge of triumph. He doesn't know everything. He thinks I really was a prisoner. She didn't relax, but a little bit of her tension eased as she began to talk.
She told him about living on Novograd, about the simmering resentment everyone felt at the constant meddling of the United Worlds. It all seemed trivial now, in the face of everything that had happened since, but her outrage at the time had been real.
“They claim they own the entire Green Zone,” she said. “We've been there for generations. I was born on Novograd. My parents were born there. And a bunch of people born on Earth are going to tell me they own my planet?”
Monkhbat nodded smugly, but didn't interrupt her.
“So when the Free Bird landed, and Captain Fagan spread the word that he was looking for crew, I signed up.” She told him how the Free Bird had raided United Worlds shipping, seizing goods to fund the cause and spreading chaos through the Zone. “We didn't hurt anyone,” she said. “Not when we could help it. But we let those arrogant pricks know that they couldn't just push us around.”
Those “arrogant pricks” were her allies now, and her earlier outrage felt a bit silly in retrospect, but Monkhbat didn't need to know that.
When she finished her story he asked questions. He wanted to know about the other prisoners. Who had been a crewmate on the Free Bird, and who had come from Rivendell?
She answered honestly, seeing no point in lying. When he asked about the backgrounds of her shipmates, though, her answers became vague. She didn't want to contradict any lies anyone else might have told. “We didn't really talk about the past,” she told Monkhbat. “We lived in the moment, you know? To us, it didn't really matter where someone was from or what they did before. If someone was part of the Free Bird crew, that was good enough for me.”
Monkhbat surprised her by accepting that answer. He glanced at a data screen on his desktop, then said, “Tell me about this man Ham.”
Uh-oh. Ham was from Neorome, which had refused to sign a treaty with the Dawn Alliance. He'd been tortured by Dawn Alliance troops on Rivendell. “Ham?” She said. “I barely met him.”
“He has some strange injuries,” said Monkhbat.
Alice shrugged. “I don't know anything about it.”
>
Monkhbat peered at her, as if sensing the lie. All he said, though, was, “Tell me about this frigate, the Kestrel.”
She told him about her last day on the Free Bird, how they'd gone after a freighter and been surprised by the frigate. She told him how marines had come aboard and captured her ship.
“Yes, yes.” Monkhbat waved an impatient hand. “Tell me about the frigate. Tell me about her officers, her crew.”
Alice lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “The brig was pretty small. At least it was clean, though. I'm pretty sure there were at least three cells, but I couldn't be certain.” She gave him her best guileless, earnest look. “Sometimes there was a marine on guard, but I never knew their names.”
He continued to question her about the Kestrel, but she kept to her story. She'd been herded into the brig. She'd stayed there until the ship was captured by the Dawn Alliance. She had no conversations with the officers or crew.
At last Monkhbat gave up in frustration. He fell silent, mashing a thumb against the screen on his desk. The door behind Alice slid open, and a hand tugged impatiently at her upper arm. The same two soldiers as before let her out of the office and back to the corridor.
The new holding area was long and narrow, with seats along one wall. Alice was deeply relieved to see Karen Chupick and all the other colonists who'd been interrogated before her. Everyone seemed unharmed.
She desperately wanted to compare notes, to ask the others what they'd been asked and what they'd said. There was no reason to think the room wasn't bugged, though, so she squeezed herself in beside Charlie, leaned back, and waited. No one else spoke.
Alice sighed, closed her eyes, and waited for something to change.
Anxiety warred with boredom, and boredom won. She dozed off, coming awake every few minutes before sinking back into slumber. She dreamed in quick, vivid bursts, each dream filled with disaster. The Free Bird took a hull breach, and she couldn't find her vac suit. Dawn Alliance soldiers with gold braid on their shoulders strapped her into a dentist's chair while a shadowy figure across the room polished an endless series of sharp steel instruments. She was back in school, walking into class, and looking down in horror to discover she was naked.
Charlie jostled her shoulder, and the dream dissolved around her. She lifted her head a few centimeters, then let it sag back against the wall behind her.
Charlie jostled her again.
Alice straightened up and opened her eyes. Monkhbat stood in front of her with a soldier at his elbow, and for an awful moment she thought it was her dream of torture made real. The man wasn't even looking at her, though. His gaze swept up and down the line of colonists, and he said, “A moment of your attention, if you please.”
Alice touched her chin surreptitiously, checking for drool, then turned her gaze to the officer.
“Thank you for your patience while we have worked through our bureaucratic processes. The Dawn Alliance appreciates your cooperation.”
Someone snorted quietly, and Monkhbat frowned. “We are, of course, pleased to have you as our guests. Just as we were glad to liberate you from your captivity aboard the warship of our mutual enemy.”
Alice sat up a bit straighter.
“It was regrettably necessary to keep you in custody until we could be sure of your identity and intentions.” He flashed his teeth in a fake plastic smile. “Be assured you are no longer prisoners. You are our valued allies. You will no longer be detained in any way.”
The colonists exchanged glances, skepticism on every face.
“We will not repatriate you directly,” the man continued. “The Dawn Alliance Navy is not a taxi service.”
Now this is more like it, Alice thought. This is the Dawn Alliance I know.
“Instead, you will be taken to a neutral port in the Green Zone. You'll have to make your own arrangements to return to your homes.”
That sounded inconvenient, but it was a big improvement over her dental chair nightmare.
“There are some conditions to your release, of course.”
Of course, Alice thought, and groaned inwardly.
“You must never speak of what you have seen while guests of the Alliance. In particular, you cannot reveal the location of our prison facility.”
Alice blinked. There's a prison facility? And I'm supposed to know the location?
“These are classified secrets,” Monkhbat said. “Sharing these secrets with anyone is treason. It will be punished by death.”
Alice stared at him, flabbergasted. The arrogant shit was telling her his people would kill her for conversations she had around the kitchen table in her own home? They'd dragged her off to God only knew what planet, and she had to keep silent about it, on pain of death?
This is how they treat their allies? And I was offended by the United Worlds?
The man droned on a bit longer, listing things they shouldn't talk about, from the appearance of troops on the station to descriptions of the ships outside. Alice listened to it all through a haze of impatient irritation.
“You will be transferred now to the Winter Morning. She will be delivering freight to several ports in the Green Zone. She will drop you off at a suitable port. You will not reveal the names of any stop on her itinerary.”
For a long moment he stared down at them with his lips pursed in a prim line. Then he turned and headed for the exit, the soldier trailing behind him.
“Wait!” Charlie stood, and the soldier turned, moving a hand to the butt of his pistol. The officer turned as well, looking astonished at the interruption.
Charlie said, “Where's Garth Ham?”
Alice quickly scanned the line of colonists. The rest of them had trickled in while she napped.
Except for Ham.
Monkhbat said, “Who?”
“Garth Ham. He's one of us.” Charlie planted his hands on his hips and stuck out his jaw. “What have you done with him?”
“I don't know where this person is.” Monkhbat turned away.
“Now, hold on!” Charlie started after him. “I want to know-”
He stopped short as the barrel of a soldier's pistol touched him just under the heart.
There was a long, tense moment of silence. Then Monkhbat said, “Come along.” He walked out, the door sliding open as he approached. The soldier spent a moment staring into Charlie's eyes, then took a step back and holstered his pistol. He spun on his heel and hurried after the officer. The door slid shut behind him.
Charlie said, “Valued allies, my ass.”
It was some time before anyone actually tested the door. It simply hadn't occurred to them that the door might be unlocked. Naomi finally walked up to the door, though, and jumped back with a squeak of surprise when it opened.
They went exploring, and didn't get far. A small labyrinth of corridors led to some doors that wouldn't open, and other doors with armed sentries. There was a staircase, though, which led down to an expansive lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall. Alice walked to the glass and looked down on the planet below.
She recognized it immediately. Gamor was unique in the Green Zone, a water world with a chain of fat islands strung along the equator. She watched as a shuttle descended toward a teardrop-shaped island directly below. Thick cloud covered much of the island, and she watched the shuttle until it vanished into a layer of gray soup.
After that she looked at ships, doing her best to memorize every detail she could. Eventually she was going to reach some representative of the United Worlds Navy, and she intended to deliver as much intelligence as she could possibly manage.
She thought about Tom Thrush, remembering how he'd come aboard the Free Bird as a junior officer, looking scared but determined to do his duty. She remembered how he'd looked after releasing her and her shipmates from the brig, his implacable determination to do what was right for his crew.
Including the former pirates among his crew. He'd surprised her with the degree of loyalty he'd shown to those reluctant a
dditions. And he'd put everything on the line when the Dawn Alliance had threatened the rendezvous at Black Betty.
She stared down at the fog-shrouded island below her, wondering if Thrush was there. Wondering what was happening to him. Him and his crew, who had plunged into a hopeless battle to protect the same Free Planets ships that had preyed on UW shipping just a few weeks before. Apparently not one of them had given in to the temptation to tell their captors that the Free Planets personnel in the brig of the Kestrel were not in fact prisoners.
I have a chance of getting home, and it's because of you. She pressed a hand against the window, staring down at the surface of Gamor. I owe you. And I won't forget the debt. If there's a way to get you out of there, I'll find it.
A buzz of voices rose behind her, and she saw a bustle of movement reflected in the glass. She turned to see a crowd gathering at the bottom of the stairs.
Garth Ham was descending the staircase, one hand on the railing, the other hand clutching a cane. He looked tired, but not unwell. Alice moved to the fringe of the crowd as her companions ushered Ham to a chair.
“I'm fine,” he said at last in response to a flurry of oblique questions. No one was entirely convinced they weren't under surveillance. No one was going to say, “Did they find out you're from Neorome?”
“I've been in the surgery,” he said. “They did some work on my feet. Removed some scar tissue so my toes will bend better. But it's a little sore now, so they gave me this.” He hefted the cane.
Voices rose in a babble, everyone speaking at once. They wanted to tell him how relieved they were that he was okay, without giving anything away.
Alice turned away, smiling as she once again looked out the window. Things were bleak, especially for her friends on the surface below. But the news wasn't all bad.
A new ship came into view, dropping below the top edge of the window. It was a freighter, built like a baseball with engines on the back. Its best days were long behind it, judging by the fading, rust-streaked paint. The only thing that looked new was the Dawn Alliance logo painted on the front of her hull.
