Kidnapped (2 page)

Time passed and she lost track of it. She tried to call out, "Hello," but no one seemed to care, and there was nothing to do but wait.

The erratic movements of the room still made her feel miserable, but it eventually settled down, and an unknown amount of time later, a portion of a wall seemed to just dissolve, showing the dark silhouette of the man. From her position, sitting on the floor, he seemed impossibly tall, and his clothes impossibly black. Even his boots appeared just to absorb any light that might come their way.

He hunched down in front of her, and watched her pale face thoughtfully. "You're space sick."

Patricia knew agreeing would be the safest thing to do, but she couldn't stop herself. She shouted, "No! I can't be space sick because I'm not in space, because that's
crazy
! I rolled with my car and I'm just unconscious. Leave me alone."

The man ignored her and reached out with his ungloved hand, plunging her into a fit of panic. She scrambled to get backwards away from him, but there was nowhere to go. "Sit still. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be dead now."

His words didn't really soothe her; she was still convinced he wanted to kill her, that he'd just snap her neck, and she so wanted to live a little longer. Earlier in her life she had wasted time recklessly, and now every minute seemed precious.

Her expression must have amused him because a shadow of a smile tugged at his lips. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was the first emotion she'd seen on his face, and it made her feel marginally better. Maybe he was human after all. She stopped fighting when he pressed a finger against her skin, explaining to her frightened glance, "Pressure point. This should make you feel better."

To her surprise he didn't hurt her, and she did feel better. Once the queasiness receded she even dared ask for a glass of water. Her voice sounded small and pathetic, reminding her of a cornered mouse, but it got steadier after a couple of words, and she had to settle for thinking this was a good thing.

Her warder shrugged and went over to a portion of the wall, pressing his hand against it, making a console fold out of what seemed to be solid metal. He punched a couple of buttons and returned with a cup made from a soft, plastic-like material. Patricia clutched it, trying to force herself to sip, but water had never tasted so good.

The silence in the cell seemed almost tangible and she swallowed hard. She didn't have much hope that pleading to the cold eyes staring at her could be successful, but she still tried her best, "Please don't rape me."

It was her biggest fear after being murdered, and she wasn't at all prepared for his response; he started laughing.

She had the impression he didn't laugh often, and it changed his entire appearance. The handsome side became boyish and even better looking, and the nightmarish part of his face somehow softened. "Rape you? Now why would I want to do that to a skinny little thing like you?"

The response made her feel both relieved and offended. Someone looking like he didn't even have a thought of having sex with her?

He surprised her again, by sitting down on the floor next to her, mercifully turning the ruined side of his face away. "I'm Travis 152 of the Alliance space control."

The phrase wasn't exactly "space control," but it was the closest thing her brain could interpret it to. And, "Travis?" What kind of name was that for someone like him?

"You're my prisoner, and this is a holding cell. You're charged for interacting with the rebel leader William Reynolds."

He paused, as if checking if his words made any sense to her. Patricia did understand, she understood just fine, and she burst out, "I am an American citizen. Whoever you are, you can't just take me like this."

He answered dryly, "Yes, actually, I can. I did. And it's not like your little planet, what did you call it, America, will be able to do anything about it. I can assure you everything will be much easier if you just cooperate and tell me what you know. Do you have a name?"

Patricia managed to sound cheekier than she felt when she replied, "I'm Patricia Risden. The name of the planet is Earth, America is a country. It's a democracy and we have a constitution, and people will come looking for me!"

He didn't smile, but he lifted an eyebrow, and removed a gadget from his belt. To Patricia, it looked a little like an iPod. It wasn't, of course, unless Apple had developed interstellar connections. "I'm sure they will, but look here."

She recognized the solar system, it was the only thing it could be, and on the little screen it looked like they were making good time on Pluto. Glancing over at him, she wondered if he was lying, but it didn't feel like it.

*****

After dropping the unconscious young woman in the cell earlier, Travis returned to his bridge and plotted the course not only out of the solar system, but also back towards Central, the large station that served as headquarters for the corps. This done, he paused a couple of minutes to think, and reached the sordid conclusion that she probably was as innocent as she claimed to be. She came from a backwards planet that wouldn't even have the necessary equipment to communicate with William's ship.

He didn't know what the rebel leader might want with the place, but logic suggested this pathetic little figure wasn't it. Still, he didn't know for sure. He had seen them together, and he couldn't take any risks. Besides, he had already sent a message to Central saying he'd be bringing back a prisoner. Not taking her there would be disobedience, and the price for disobedience was too high.

Normally, he wouldn't have cared either way, guilty or not guilty. He'd just drop the prisoners into a cell and forget about them, sometimes until a maintenance crew found them years later. Looking into her frightened eyes now, he felt even more certain she was innocent, but that didn't matter. Did it?

Now he was surprising even himself, and he couldn't figure out why he went through the trouble of
talking
to the prisoner. He had checked up on her, and it was more than he usually bothered to do. Central could talk to her just fine.

Everyone chosen for the corps was taught at young ages never to feel bored, and never to be lonely. He could spend years alone in his craft without anything to do or anyone to talk to. And still, here he was, chatting with a prisoner from a planet so remote most people had forgotten about it.

Giving the young woman a thoughtful glance, he decided he knew all he needed to, more than he had ever wanted to, and it was time to go. He rose up agilely and was surprised to hear her voice call out, "No, wait, please don't leave me alone!"

It was surprisingly tempting to look back, but he didn't; he marched out into the corridor with its endless rows of cells. A voice from his memory echoed in his head. It was his commanding officer snarling, "Such a pathetic little creature."

He heard a woman's scream, one of many imprints in his brain that would never go away, and his commander's quiet laugh. Through the commotion in his mind, he could also hear the real but muffled sound of Patricia crying on the other side of the wall. Shaking his head made the imagined noises go away, but the weeping was still there. He turned abruptly and entered the cell again. "Don't do that."

Patricia lifted her face up and sniffled, "Don't do what?"

He felt a frown forming, "The thing with your eyes."

She was trying to shout at him, but her voice cracked, and he felt an unfamiliar twinge of sympathy when he heard the forlorn, "I'll stop if you take me home. I didn't do anything."

Shrugging slightly, he answered amiably, "I know. You're really useless, aren't you?"

He looked down at his gloved hand, flexing it, but couldn't help seeing she was trying to dry her eyes, evidently too afraid not to obey. "Maybe I should just kill you. Since you're useless."

The threat didn't seem to faze her and he crouched down to be able to look into her eyes. "I can't take you back. I've already reported in I'm bringing you. They'd kill us both."

"So what? Now they'll only kill me? Unless you do it first?"

Her feistiness was admirable, and he tried to tell her the truth. "No. You're young and strong. You'll be sent to some colony as labor. It could be worse."

He rose up again and headed towards the door, and when he heard her voice call out for him this time, he did glance back over his shoulder. She said, "Can I have some more water?"

He surprised himself with flashing a quick smile. "Figure out how to get it."

*****

Back on the bridge, Travis sunk down in his chair and stared thoughtfully straight ahead. A holographic screen flickered on, showing Patricia sitting on the cell floor. He didn't particularly want to look, but still found it difficult to keep his eyes averted from the tiny, three-dimensional woman. He saw her get to her feet, approaching the wall where he got the water for her, muttering, "Figure out how to get it."

He watched her without blinking as she made a couple of tries, finally got the terminal to appear and jumped around jubilant, displaying more energy than he could ever remember feeling. After taking a sip, she started to pace around the little cell, talking to herself. "I have something now. The next time he comes in I can... I can jump him. Surprise him. He has a weapon I'm sure. I can take it and force him to take me home."

After taking a long good look at the useless little mug in her hand, she slumped and tossed it to the side. When she sunk down in a corner and started to cry again, Travis said, "Turn it off."

The familiar voice of his computer echoed in the room. "Why did you go down to her, Commander? You didn't torture her."

He looked at his hand in the black glove. "You do your job and deal with the ship. I'll do mine."

Chapter Two

Something poked Patricia, awakening her from a deep sleep, and she yelped, thinking it might be a rat. When she focused her eyes, she stared at Travis's legs right in front of her. He had nudged her with the toe of his boot. She still held the soft little cup clutched to her chest, and didn't let it go even as she fought to sit up. "Oh no."

He answered dryly, "Yes, I'm happy to see you too."

It took a couple of seconds for reality to sink into her mind. Offending him would be bad, maybe even lethal, and she tried to talk her way out of the slip, "I was hoping it was a dream."

His next words weren't at all what she expected. "You wouldn't cause any trouble for me if I were to let you out, right?"

The prospect of seeing something besides the bare walls of the cell felt almost intoxicating, and she shook her head eagerly. Travis smirked, "You wouldn't, say, try to overpower me with that really dangerous cup or anything, would you?"

Had he seen her? Had he been watching her? All night? She felt herself blush, but still clutched the cup harder. It was hers, the only thing she had, and she wanted to keep it. She still dropped it when he reached a hand down to pull her up. Accepting the offering seemed dangerous, but rejecting it even more so. Putting her hand carefully in his, half expecting pain and death, it surprised her to find it warm and human.

"It'll take us a few days to reach Central. Any mischief and you get to spend all that time in here, do you understand? If you try to contact William, try to steal the ship, sabotage it, anything, it's back to the cell. Am I making myself clear?"

She nodded obediently and glanced down at her hand still holding his. It surprised her she wasn't as afraid of him anymore. He almost seemed like a real person.

Looking up, she found herself staring at the ruined part of his face. That too seemed less frightening and revolting now. If anything, it looked painful and filled her with sympathy. "Why are you doing this? Being nice to me, I mean?"

He made a dismissive gesture, "I don't know. I should kill you and get it over with, but I guess you're harmless."

Dropping her hand and turning abruptly, he walked out with long strides, and she hurried to follow. As soon as she got into the corridor her head started to spin, trying to take in all the unfamiliar sights and smells, and she had to jog to keep up with him to the elevator. If she'd still had doubts about where she was they evaporated. This thing, whatever it was, couldn't have been made on Earth.

*****

Travis didn't say anything as long as they were in the lift, but as soon as the doors opened and he walked out, he started to talk in an almost absentminded voice. "The lift won't take you anywhere; it'd be futile to try. You will have a room on this floor. You can go to the bridge to look out if you want to, but the computer will not obey you. If you try anything, anything at all, it's back to the cell and I'll forget I ever met you."

Even though her fear had started to turn into curiosity, it still seemed safer not to say anything, so she nodded obediently and followed him. After a few steps, caution vanished, and her mouth started talking all by itself. "It's a big ship. And empty."

Her warder stared straight ahead, and for several seconds she thought he wouldn't answer. "Yes. It can hold over 2000 troops and almost as many prisoners."