Senton
Senton's hand hurt. It had swollen, but he'd managed to finagle permission to access his aedee and deploy antihistamine blockers. It wasn't as good as an actual administration, but it was enough to reduce the worst of the swelling. He'd also administered a natural ibuprofen--though, again, it wasn't the same as the real medicine. Aedee interventions could only go so far. If he didn't get real medical help, he'd have some permanent damage. The thought of all the injustices done to him made him furious and angry. He wanted Korryn there as soon as possible--she shouldn't be far, not if she was in the lab--but more than that he wanted out. The fact that Ann had tricked him into going to the Brig, had threatened him was an outrage. Yes, he'd managed to twist a couple of communications out using Ann's aedee connection as a guide--a trick he'd learned back in training, though not in a class--and while he wasn't completely certain Ann remained ignorant of his stowaway signal, the sooner Korryn got here, the sooner he'd be out and he wouldn't have to worry either way. There was some stale water that he could drink out of the spigot in the wall next to the toilet. There was a mattress on a bed. The walls were beige. That was about all he noticed. His leg's feeling had returned to almost normal--whatever that program was, it only lasted a certain amount of time. He wanted to dig through the aedee's memory and figure out what she'd shot him with, but he wasn't very good with his left hand. All of the gestures were backwards and counterintuitive, like trying to play a guitar with a non-dominant hand. He paused at that. He hadn't thought of a guitar since he left home for training. The last time he'd touched one was the day that his father had had the accident. Since then, there wasn't any time… Now, however, he had the time. Senton snorted. Not that he'd be able to play with his hand the way it was. Its pain was no longer sharp, save when he flexed his hand too naturally, but instead was a burning ache that rested in his joints when it wasn't busy feeling like his hand was coated in flame. To get his mind off of the situation, he descended into his own thoughts, trying to generate arguments for why he should be allowed to officially identify Karl's species and genera. While he couldn't name the creature after himself (though Dentolura sentoni had a nice ring to it), he could still come up with something worthwhile. "Maybe Dentolura painintheglutei," he mused aloud. He heard a strangled noise and muffled cries of pain, three shots, and the slumping sound of bodies dropping to the floor. Curious, Senton stood up and came close to the glass door. He glanced across the hallway, where Karl remained ensconced in his cage. The creature hadn't moved since Ann had put him there. Senton hoped the lura wasn't dead, his injury notwithstanding. His scientific inquisitiveness overpowered his vendetta. Plus, it was just a creature. It hadn't meant to harm him. Ann, on the other hand… "Korryn?" he called out softly, then yelped when the intruder rounded the corner. "Charalee!" "Hello, lover," said Charalee. She looked…a mess. Her hair was matted with dried blood, as was most of her left shoulder. He spotted the telltale glint of genetic metal holding closed what looked to be a nasty head wound. Her skin, normally an attractive brown, looked sickly and wan, as though she'd lost too much blood. (If he had to guess, that was probably the case.) But more than that, Charalee's eyes were dark and distant--hollow. While he couldn't fully put a finger on why he thought this, he couldn't avoid the conclusion that her overall appearance was one of desperation. "You've…you've been busy?" asked Senton, licking his lips and taking a step back from the terraglass door. She spoke, but her voice came in through a small speaker mounted next to the door. Save a vent too high above his head for him to reach--and, if he remembered correctly, impossible to remove--there wasn't any access to the outside world. He pushed that reality from his mind. Best not to dwell on it. "You could say that," said Charalee as she stepped closer to the glass. She rested her hand against the door. Senton recoiled when he saw it was covered with blood. "W-what did you do?" "What I had to," she said, her voice flat. "I'm getting out of here. And you're going to help me." "Help?" he asked, his voice squeaking. "Uh…" "Listen, Senton," she said, the sharpness in her tone unmistakably hostile. "I'm on really short time and even shorter patience. So pay attention." He swallowed. Their tryst hadn't lasted long--a few weeks only--and had been based upon mutual attraction. After their first night together, Charalee had said as much, telling him she'd likely leave him as not. They'd found reasons to keep seeing each other, but it didn't take long to realize that she was growing bored of him. There was sex and there was an occasional conversation, and then, as abruptly as it had started, it was over. Charalee hadn't offered any specific explanation, and Senton hadn't wanted one. The thing he remembered from the whole experience was that, when she sought attention, he had to give it. Her sharp-edged tongue was reason enough to capitulate on that front. Now, as she snapped for him to listen closely, he followed the command as much from habit as from an acutely developed sense of self-preservation. "You are widely considered the expert on the Compound." He shrugged. "I'm good with maps. I've memorized the place." "And its byways and…" She waved a hand. "Everything?" "Yes." He licked his lips. "Why?" "I want out of this place." "The Brig? You just go the way you came…" "No, stupid. I want out. Off of Prospero. Out of the Compound." Senton scratched at an itch on the back of his neck. "Isn't there relief coming? Some help to take care of the problem?" "Yes, and I want to be gone before they're here." She pressed closer to the glass. Senton let his eyes drift down her body. The skin-sheath was custom fit and made her look distractingly good. He remember what it was like when she had first taken off-- "Hey! Focus!" Charalee snapped her fingers. Senton shook his head. "Sorry." He kept his eyes focused on hers. "I, uh, I don't know how to help you." "I need to get to the Hangar, but the main thoroughfares are all closed down. That's where the lura are thickest, supposedly." "Well, it depends." "On what?" "On what's open. The likeliest route is through the service tunnels." "Not happening." "Okay," he drawled, thinking. "You could weave through the northern wings. I'm pretty sure the pods aren't running--" "Not without full power," said Charalee, disgusted. "Well, passing from one wing to another often works. Most of them are connected, so while they take longer to go through than the main hallways, they're your best bet." He paused. "Well, maybe not…" She shot a glance over one shoulder, then looked back at him. "I told you, I'm in a rush. Can you hurry it up?" He stared at the bloody hand again, suppressing a shudder. He could only guess what she'd done to the guards. The fact that he'd lapsed into ogling her surprised him in light of that likelihood. He couldn't help her anymore. It wouldn't be right. "Take me with you." Charalee snorted, then laughed, shaking her head. "No chance in hell." "Look, I'll guide you. I can take you to where you need to go." "Then you'll try to come with me." "No," said Senton, "I'll stay here. It's fine, I'll figure it out. I just don't want to be in this cell anymore." Charalee gave him a pitying look--one that he almost recognized from before. He thought, for the briefest of moments, that she would take him back. In one part of his mind, he always thought that she would take him back. The look disappeared. "No way." "Wait!" Without hesitating, Charalee pushed off from the glass, the handprint streaking. "Thanks, lover," she said. An eerie smile creased her lips, and, despite his shouts for her to return, she slipped around the corner and out of sight. "Well, that…" Senton groped for the right word. At last, he settled on, "was disappointing" and left it at that. There was a familiar sound of approaching footsteps. "Charalee?" he said, perking up. Maybe she'd changed her mind? His eyes widened. "Korryn!" "Did you call me something else?" she asked. She, too, looked the worse for wear as she pushed a cart containing an oversized cage to a stop. Like most people on the Compound, she wore her work coveralls, which did exactly as advertised. In her case, though, the fabric was dirty, splattered with blood, and it was caked with a sticky substance. Her hair, too, was stringy with the stuff. Though it was markedly different than Charalee, he could see a haunted look in Korryn's eyes, too. Both women had passed through some pretty hard times, he was certain. "What happened to you?" he asked. "And what is that?" He pointed at the container, then shook his head. "Never mind. You can tell me later. First, you have to help me out of here." "I have this," she said, dangling a handheld from its lanyard. "I think it'll help." Senton smiled for the first time in what felt like years. "That'll do! Wait, where'd you get that?" "From a…body. Dead body. Dropped it." "Killed by a lura?" She nodded. He grimaced. "We may have to rethink our plan." Korryn snorted. "Yeah, well…once I get you out, I think we can--" "I have to admit, Korryn, I'm disappointed." Both Senton and Korryn's heads snapped in the direction of the voice. Senton groaned. "Not you!" Ann stood, her hand on her weapon's handle, but still holstered, and glared at both of them. "Did you think I wouldn't know what you were up to, Senton? That you and Korryn's conspiracy would go unpunished?" "You're going to waste time during an emergency to make sure we don't take some of these creatures out of here?" "The last thing," said Ann in a dangerously low and calm voice, "that I want is the responsibility that will come on my shoulders when it becomes clear that a dangerous xenoform--one that's part of massive loss on Prospero--has been taken off planet. Do you know how many treaties, laws, and regulations you'd be breaking if you took a Dentolura off planet? There were ten years of litigation when it became clear that a new form of bacteria had piggybacked to the Gateway from one of our first outposts. Do you think taking animals anywhere else would be wise?" Senton's mouth was dry. He didn't know what to say. He'd forgotten--or maybe, hadn't wanted to remember--about those laws. Forcing himself to swallow, he tried to mount a defense, but Ann cut him off. "Shut up, Trapp. I'm not interested in discussing this any longer. Korryn, you're under arrest. You have the right--" Snarling, Korryn shoved the cage, which was precariously set on a dolly, toward Ann. The Chief of Security, caught off guard, took an edge to the gut. Her gun flew free of its holster and spun away. Korryn and Ann both froze. Senton watched, breathless. He didn't know what else to do. For once in his life, he had absolutely no ideas. He hated the feeling. The moment--strangely balanced in the clear processing of ramifications and ideas--snapped to a close as abruptly as Korryn had attacked. Then the fight began. Comments are closed.
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What is this?This is a NaNoWriMo project that publishes, day by day, the chapters I'm writing for 2017. If you're confused, go to Chapter 1 Ann and start there. ArchivesCategories
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