6.2 · Lines of Communication
“Once again: who are you?”
Sherri was fastened to a board, tilted slightly back, and her head was strapped down in a way that she wasn’t able to see what was going on directly below her. She had been kept in pitch darkness for a long time, though she had no clue exactly how long. It felt like days, but it had probably only been several hours, considering her hunger levels. Every so often, the lights would come on and this woman would show up to see if she was ready to talk.
Sherri narrowed her eyes. “Tooth fairy.”
The lady Kromagg, who she had heard addressed as ‘Commander Kasyr,’ scowled at her.
“It’s only going to get worse. Do yourself a favour and talk now.” She brushed a wisp of brown hair from her face.
Sherri noted that this Kasyr was the only Kromagg who had hair on their head. It may have been a sex-related trait, she figured.
“Gee, you’re good at this,” said Sherri, feigning being impressed. “It’s true: I am not, in fact, the tooth fairy. Alas, my carefully constructed front has been torn down. Brava.”
The mockery only made the woman more angry.
“You realise we can get into your head, don’t you?”
Sherri kept her face blank. “So why haven’t you?”
“Don’t tempt them, Sherri…” John’s voice filled Maggie with relief, and she smiled as he came into her limited field of view.
“Just say the word and we’ll retrieve you,” he said, biting his lip as he looked upon her.
“What are you smiling about?” Kasyr barked.
“Just deciding on what I’m gonna eat for lunch. Big club sandwich, I’m thinking.”
“Oh, I’ve had enough of this,” the woman said, turning around. “Next time this door opens, expect a little more pain. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She shut the door behind her, and the lights went out again. John adjusted his projection so Sherri was able to see his face.
“I don’t know how to get you out of this one, Sherri,” John said, voice shaking. “Are you sure you don’t want Higgins to–”
“Not yet,” she whispered. “I’ll keep looking for an opening to fight my way out of here.”
Defeated, John nodded. “Alright. But just say the word, okay? And if you can’t speak, send a couple of winks my way.”
“I will,” she promised. “Listen, can you go see what Quinn’s up to?”
“You got it. Sit tight, Sherri.”
“Don’t worry about me for now. I’m okay.”
* * *
Sam listened as Tim told a story of his time at the re-education facility, enduring countless hours of psychological torture.
While others had come and gone; broken down mentally, and turned compliant, Tim had been defiant and unyielding.
Eventually, the Kromaggs changed tack on those few who remained unbroken. Giving up on brainwashing, they turned to bargaining. They tempted Tim with false promises of a free life with Belinda. All he would have to do would be to sniff out free thinkers among the ranks of the slaves.
So, he had spent several years moving from one slave unit to another, occasionally finding someone who had ideas of escape. Each time, he’d be rewarded with a day or two in a nice bed, with a proper meal, and promised if he kept it up just a little longer, he’d see Belinda again.
Then he’d met Sherri, by far the most spirited slave he’d ever encountered. The Kromaggs had advised him to keep tabs on her. When she’d begun her escape, they told him to follow, opening the doors so he could catch up to her.
They were curious about this blind woman with designs of escape, so they let it happen. The dead Kromaggs were acceptable casualties, apparently.
They were not unseen during their escape; they were deliberately ignored.
The Kromaggs had tech that allowed them to track mammalian heat signatures, so they had been able to keep tabs on the pair of them the whole way to Quinn.
I guess that’s what made it so easy.
Sam clasped his hands together as he sat hunched over.
“And you told them all those secrets Sherri told you, didn’t you?”
Tim pursed his lips. “Not entirely.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Tim leaned over, whispering: “They don’t know ’bout John.”
This was Tim’s first mention of John. Sam wondered if he’d told Quinn anything about him. Erring on the safe side, he remained silent, waiting for Tim to elaborate.
“She said she has some guy only she can see, who can communicate with her. Betcha he’s figuring out some kinda rescue right now.”
Sam smiled. “Yeah, I think you may be right.”
As if in response to this, the Imaging Chamber door sounded. Sam followed his ear, and watched Al jump through the door, just on the other side of the electrical field.
Al either ignored it or didn’t see it, as he hurried into the cell, causing the field to ripple around him, giving Sam and Tim a clear view of his shape as he passed through.
“Sam, we got a prob–” he hesitated as he noticed the disruption of the field, then glanced at Tim, who was staring at it in surprise. “Oh. Oops.”
Sam rubbed his forehead, sighing.
“Uh, never mind that for a second,” Al said, “’cause we just found out someone threw the Reality Lens config out of whack. Meaning…”
Anyone could be a leaper.
“Oh, boy.”
“That’s what I said!”
Tim jumped to his feet, pointing at the force field. “You saw that, right?”
Sam looked at him, and nodded.
“It must be John!”
* * *
It hadn’t been John, of course. But John had, in fact, been watching the whole thing.
He’d listened to Tim’s story – or at least, some of it. It had already been happening when he blinked in.
He’d seen the figure in the force field. Just like it would have looked like if he’d passed through it himself.
And then, he’d heard Nexus Quinn, notably unfazed by the strange phenomenon, come out with the phrase ‘oh boy.’
It couldn’t be. Could it?
“It must be John!” exclaimed Tim.
“Nope, wasn’t me,” John said. “But I’m right here, so go ahead and think that.”
He moved close to Quinn, studying him.
“I don’t know how it could be true, but… what if it is?” John mumbled, watching closely as Quinn stared at a wall, with an unusual level of concentration. He then bit his thumbnail, as he leaned back in his seat, apparently lost in thought.
“Hi John,” Tim said, looking near the cell entrance. “Are you here to help us escape?”
Silence ensued.
“What, you expect to hear my answer?” asked John. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“If he is here, what makes you think he can answer?” Quinn asked. “You said only Sherri could see him.”
“Yeah, exactly…” John agreed.
Tim deflated. “Guess you’re right. Still, he can hear us. I think.”
Quinn gave a distracted grunt in reply, his eyes turning toward the back of the cell.
“Dammit,” he whispered, almost imperceptibly.
It sure did seem like he might have been engaged in a mostly one-sided conversation with a hologram. John had been the more vocal half of plenty of conversations just like this.
Please… tell me I’m right. Tell me this is Sam.
Quinn stood. “We need to get out of here,” he announced.
Tim looked up at him, brow furrowed.
“Ain’t like I don’t agree, but…” he gestured broadly. “Not really any way outta here.”
“Yeah, well, that just means we need to come up with a plan. Sherri did it. We can, too.”
“Nobody expected an old lady with no eyes,” said Tim. “We’re two grown men. They won’t let their guard down for us.”
Quinn paced the room.
“Well, if John’s really here, maybe he can distract them.”
John grinned. “Be happy to.”
Tim’s mouth drifted open. “I never told you ’bout him distracting the ’maggs.”
Quinn stiffened.
John raised his eyebrows.
“Well, uh, if he can affect the electronic field like that, we could certainly use that as a distraction, couldn’t we?”
“Hmm, good save,” John said, squinting at ‘Quinn.’
“Good idea,” Tim said, nodding. “John, I hope you’ve been listening…”
“I have,” John replied. “I’ll help whatever way I can, so long as you rescue Sherri.”
In the force field, the fuzzy shape of a hand giving a ‘thumbs up’ gesture appeared.
John’s heart pounded. “If that’s you, Al… I don’t know how you got here, but thank you.”
He moved to the field, and mirrored the hand gesture, eyes trained on ‘Quinn.’ As anticipated, Quinn’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth curled into a smile. He gave a surreptitious wink.
It’s him. It’s Sam.
