Deep Space - Hidden Terror (The Stasis Stories #6)

by Laurence Dahners

  “Shut up, Goddammit, shut up!” Eric shrieked. He started to roll to his hands and knees as if to get up, but then sank back down.

  Shelle thought he looked dizzy.

  Meanwhile, Vera was serenely answering questions from the 911 operator, confessing she didn’t know whether the injury was bad enough to require an ambulance but that the person didn’t seem to be able to get up. Vera turned to Shelle, “Do you want to file charges?”

  Shelle felt her own eyes widening, “I…” she looked down at Eric, now glaring at her. “I, uh, I can’t.”

  “You’re seventeen, right?” Vera asked.

  Shelle nodded spastically.

  “Yes, the girl’s seventeen,” Vera said, then nudged Eric with her foot, “You’re eighteen, right Eric?” When Eric only glared at Vera, the girl turned to Shelle, “He’s eighteen, right?”

  Shelle uncomfortably nodded.

  Vera said, “Yes. He’s eighteen…” a few moments later she said, “I don’t believe there was any penetration,” she raised an eyebrow at Shelle and when Shelle gave a quick shake of her head, Vera said, “Confirmed, no penetration. Just forcible restraint, with unwanted kissing and groping.” Vera raised an eyebrow at Shelle as if she wanted to confirm the kissing and groping were unwanted.

  Shelle microscopically nodded.

  Vera was still patiently answering the operator’s questions when the door of the room opened and a policeman leaned in. “You guys call 911?” His eyes went to Eric, then back to the girls.

  Vera nodded unconcernedly and lifted her hand, “I called. This guy,” she indicated Eric with her foot, “Eric Lasker, has been injured at my hand. I think his nose is broken and he says he wants to file charges against me. I thought it best to get you guys to come and help him as well as listening to his complaints and my justifications.”

  How can she be so unconcerned?! Shelle wondered.

  The policeman and his partner both came in. The male cop knelt to look at Eric’s face. “How you doin’ man?”

  “Fine,” Eric said in a stuffy voice due to his plugged nose. “That bitch,” his eyes went to Vera, “sucker-punched me.”

  The cop looked up, apparently decided Vera wasn’t dangerous, and waved some EMTs into the room.

  He’s definitely wrong if he thinks she’s harmless, Shelle thought.

  Vera turned to the female policeman. “I have a video recording of the incident,” she said, tapping the body-cam on her shirt. “Can I send it to you?”

  “You’ve looked at it?”

  Vera shook her head. “I lived through it though, so I have a pretty good idea what it shows.”

  The cop looked down at Eric, then back at Shelle and Vera. “Send it over. After we watch it, we’ll have questions for both of you.”

  It didn’t take long for the two cops to watch the video, making Shelle realize that what’d seemed like a drawn-out event to her had lasted a minute or less. The EMTs had Eric loaded up but hadn’t taken him out when the cops finished, so they stepped over to talk to the EMTs. They asked Eric some questions too but, Shelle couldn’t hear either the questions or their answers.

  While waiting for the police to finish with Eric, Shelle found herself uncomfortably standing, arms folded, with nothing to do but worry. The main thing, of course, was how pissed Eric was going to be. His parents were wealthy and she didn’t know how her mom would deal with it if they put up a fuss. I may not be the one who hurt him, she thought, but this’s the kind of mess that’s gonna get everyone dirty!

  Suddenly Vera was there in front of her. She’d been sending texts but now she had focused back on Shelle. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay,” Shelle said, though she wasn’t. She didn’t think someone who had their shit together as well as Vera did would want to hear about Shelle’s inner hysteria.

  “Really?” Vera asked, looking concerned. “I’d think you’d be worried about a lot of stuff.”

  Shelle’s eyes suddenly welled with tears and she found herself sniffling. She nodded.

  Vera put her arms around Shelle and just held her. “When you’re ready,” she said softly, “tell me what’s got you worried the most.”

  You don’t want to hear about my crap, Shelle thought, but after a few moments in the comforting hug, she sniffed again, then said, “I’m… most worried about what Eric’s gonna do the next time I see him.”

  “Were you happy as his girlfriend before today?”

  Shelle shook her head jerkily. “I was happy the first few weeks we were going out… but then he started telling me what to do.” To her dismay she found herself whimpering, “He talks like he owns me. And, and… he hurts me when I don’t do what he wants.”

  “Did he force you to have sex with him?” Vera asked sympathetically.

  Shelle nodded, feeling like she couldn’t say the words. Then they spilled out anyway. “I told him I didn’t want to, but… he said… he said if I loved him, I would. I wanted to tell him I didn’t love him. Of course, I didn’t. I already hated him by then. But I knew if I said that he’d just start some bullshit about how I didn’t understand how much he loved me.” Shelle let out a sob, “Then he tore my panties. It was just pain from there on.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vera said. “He sounds like a horrible person.”

  “But what am I gonna do?” Shelle asked plaintively. “I can’t avoid him, I’ve tried. I was trying to keep away from him today! After this, the next time he catches up to me he’s gonna be horrible.”

  The two police arrived at Shelle’s side. A glance showed the EMTs wheeling Eric away. The female cop said, “Hi, Shelle. I’m Officer Dayton. We need to get your side of the story while it’s still fresh in your mind. Can you sit down and go over it with me?”

  Shelle sniffed and wiped her tearstained cheeks, then nodded. She dropped dejectedly into one of the classroom chairs.

  Dayton said, “I’m going to record this.” She indicated Vera, “Would you like your friend to sit in on this with you?”

  Shelle looked up at the younger girl, “Would you mind?”

  Vera took a seat, saying, “No problem. I suspect they’ll need my statement anyway.”

  Dayton said, “So, you’re Michelle Brown, correct?”

  Shelle nodded, then when the officer prompted her to speak for the record, said, “Yes, but I go by Shelle. Shelle Brown.”

  The officer turned to Vera, “Your name and age please?”

  “Zaii Vera, sixteen.”

  Shelle thought, I’ve got to start thinking of her as Zaii, not Vera.

  The officer gathered further demographics on both of them then launched into a little spiel intended to comfort them after the traumatic events they’d just lived through. Shelle didn’t feel comforted and couldn’t remember any of the little speech later, but she appreciated the effort.

  The lady walked the girls through the events, mostly asking for their reactions since the audio-video record Vera had given them began with Eric stepping out from beneath the stairs and grabbing Shelle’s wrist—so they didn’t need to be informed of the objective facts. There was a minute or so without a video record, between when the classroom door closed behind Eric and Shelle and when Vera opened the door again. But Vera, to make sure intervention was warranted, had pushed her body cam’s microphone against the door so there was still an audio record of Eric’s demands and Shelle’s pleas for mercy.

  Officer Dayton asked Shelle what Eric had been doing during the interruption in the video record and Shelle described what she remembered.

  When they got to the fight between Eric and Zaii, to Shelle’s surprise, Officer Dayton described it as a “thrashing.” It was only then that Shelle realized that Zaii had so dominated the event that Eric hadn’t laid a hand on the girl.

  Dayton asked Zaii, “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

  As if it weren’t at all unusual, Zaii responded, “I’ve been taking martial arts and self-defense courses since I was six.”
<
br />   After a couple more questions, Dayton posed a couple that surprised Shelle. Looking at Zaii with narrowed eyes Dayton asked, “After that solid kick to his crotch, why go on to knee him in the face?”

  Zaii shrugged and spoke as if quoting advice she’d been given in her classes, “When fighting a larger, stronger opponent, use any brief advantage you obtain to make sure he’s out of the fight for good. You can not afford to let him recover.”

  Dayton nodded, acknowledging the point, “Why’d you grab the back of his head when you kneed him in the face?”

  “To protect his neck and brain,” Zaii responded as if it were obvious.

  Dayton snorted, “To protect him?”

  Zaii nodded, “In the heat of the moment I might have kneed him so hard that I could have caused a whiplash injury to his neck and a concussion injury to his brain. Grabbing the back of his head prevents hyperextension of the neck and sudden reversal of cranial motion. It focuses the damage on the nose and mid-face. Midface injuries are very painful and thus quite effective at taking the fight out of someone, but they rarely cause permanent harm.”

  At this recitation, Dayton shook her head, a slight smile on her face. After a moment she said, “Well, I’m glad I don’t have to fight you myself. Are we to assume you have a black belt?”

  Zaii nodded but didn’t amplify as to which martial art the belt belonged.

  When the interviews were over and Shelle stepped outside with Zaii, it was dusk. The girl said, “I ordered an Uber already. Shall we ride together?”

  It turned out that they only lived six blocks apart. Since she didn’t want to be alone, Shelle elected to go to Zaii’s house with her. Shelle’s mom wouldn’t finish her shift at the hospital for another hour.

  Zaii’s house was modest in size but ultramodern in construction. Built of Stade, it floated several feet off the ground on a Stade post. The stairs up to the porch were Stade everywhere except the treads and handrails. Those steps also seemed to float in the air, though when Shelle bent down, she could see the single, slender Stade wire that held them up.

  “Wow! Shelle said, looking around. I’ve heard of houses like this but I’ve never been in one. Are your parents rich?”

  “Nah,” Zaii said dismissively. “They work for Staze. Stade isn’t all that expensive anymore. Besides, they get a great deal on it.” She lowered her voice, “This house turns out to be cheaper than a regular one when you count the decreased maintenance.”

  “Why’s it up on a post?”

  “Supposedly to keep out varmints, since insects, mice, rats, snakes, and such can’t climb Stade. But squirrels can climb stairs and insects ride in on people and pets. I think the real reason they wanted it up on a post was ’cause they thought it’d look cool.”

  Though Shelle wanted to look around what seemed to be a very cool house, Zaii led her straight to her bedroom. Zaii’s room had its own bathroom so Shelle used it while Zaii went to the kitchen to destaze them some juice.

  When Shelle left the bathroom Zaii was entering the bedroom with the juice. Shelle said, “Your water’s hot as soon as you turn it on! How do they do that? Some special heater?”

  Zaii looked a little embarrassed, as if having instant hot water was somehow vulgar. “Um, the pipes are made of Stade too, so the water doesn’t cool off while it’s sitting in them.” She shrugged, “My parents are obsessed. It’s all Stade all the time around here.”

  Shelle felt like she was the one who should be embarrassed that she lived in a house that still had old style plumbing. She opened her mouth to say something about it but closed it without saying anything.

  When they’d

  settled down to study, Shelle glanced over and noticed the math on Zaii’s tablet looked like some kind of advanced placement or college-level course. Shelle thought, She must be really smart.

  Though she tried, Shelle found she couldn’t concentrate on her homework. After struggling with an anxious loop in her brain for a while, she turned to Zaii, “I can’t stop worrying about what Eric’s going to do to me the next time I see him. Do you think I should take one of your martial arts classes?”

  Zaii studied her a moment, then said, “I think it’s always a good idea to be able to defend yourself, and getting some education in the arts is a good way to do that. However, you probably won’t have learned much by the time you encounter Eric again.” She shrugged, “I can think of two things that could give you immediate results.”

  “What’re those?” Shelle asked eagerly.

  “First, remember the tone of my voice when I first stepped into the classroom and told him to let you go?”

  Shelle’s eyes widened, “Yeah. You were loud. That alone stopped Eric in his tracks.” She frowned, “How’d you do that?!”

  Zaii twisted her lips thoughtfully, “It’s much like what’s called a ‘command voice’ in the military. The way officers and sergeants order around groups of troops, especially in noisy environments. It isn’t just loud; you’re trying to achieve a tone that makes people obey before they give it much thought.” She frowned, “You were talking to Eric, asking him to stop, but your voice was whiny, soft, and high-pitched. You were begging, not commanding. That made you easy to ignore. Worse, I only heard it because I was nearby. It wouldn’t have attracted the attention of people who could help you.”

  Shelle felt ashamed to realize that she purposely hadn’t made much noise because it would’ve been embarrassing if people had seen what was happening to her. “I can see that. But I’m not sure I can shout the way you did. How do you… yell so loudly?”

  Zaii said, “I’d call it more of a bark or a bellow than a yell.” She stood and looked down at Shelle, “Get up!”

  Shelle found herself scrambling to her feet.

  In more normal tones, Zaii said, “I think you felt the effect of the command voice there, even though it wasn’t all that loud?” At Shelle’s nervous nod, Zaii continued, “When I’m trying to do it, I hold the mindset that I’m the boss and the person better do what I tell them to do. And, more importantly, that they are going to do it…”

  She paused, evidently waiting for confirmation that Shelle understood, so Shelle nodded.

  “Consciously keep your voice low. Do not let it climb to a shriek because high-pitched tones sound frightened rather than commanding. Speak distinctly and separate the words to be sure they’re understood. If you have a chance to consider your words beforehand, do so and edit them down to just a few. A paragraph is not commanding. Neither is a long sentence. Keep it under five words if at all possible.” She looked Shelle in the eye, “Stop slouching!”

  With a jerk, Shelle came upright, throwing her shoulders back.

  Zaii said, “That command was mostly to give you another example, but if you want people to obey unconsciously, you’ve got to project the image of someone who expects to be obeyed. Someone who commands isn’t slouching. They stand as tall and dominantly as they can. Here,” she said, stepping back and turning to face Shelle, “look at my posture. Feet apart in a power stance. Arms hanging free and ready for action. Standing tall with a chest full of air and ready to project my commands. Take the position!”

  This time Shelle spent a moment wondering what ‘position’ Zaii had meant. She decided she was probably supposed to face Zaii in that same commanding posture. She did so but felt puzzled to realize that this command hadn’t had the impact of the others.

  Zaii said, “You’re probably noticing that last command wasn’t as effective. That’s because it was ambiguous. Commands must be short and precise. If I’d said, ‘Take the command position,’ it would’ve worked better. The increased precision would’ve been worth the extra word. Now, you tell me to do something.”

  Shelle blinked insecurely, then said, “Um, move farther away from me.” As she said it, she already knew she wasn’t being forceful enough. Her voice started a little high-pitched and climbed, fading unsteadily toward the end.

  “Step back!” Zaii said, comma
ndingly.

  Before she could stop herself, Shelle found herself taking a step back. “Shit,” she said softly, “I suck at this too.”

  “Try it again!”

  “Step back!” Shelle bellowed, though her voice broke at the end.

  Zaii stepped back and broke into a big grin, “That’s more like it! ‘Move farther away from me,’ was weak, too wordy, and lacked precision. ‘Step back,’ said the same thing more concisely.”

  Over the next ten minutes, Zaii had Shelle practice over and over. Loud bellows alternated with commands just barely louder than normal conversation. Keeping her voice in a lower register. Projecting it right through the commanded person. Editing her words before uttering them. She felt surprised to realize that she could feel the power of her own commands.

  When they turned to sit back down at the table where they’d been studying, Shelle realized with a frightened start that an African-American man was leaning against the doorframe. She relaxed when she saw his pleasant smile.

  Zaii sighed, “Sorry, Shelle. This is my dad.” She rolled her eyes at the man, “Shelle and I are just studying together.”

  Shelle gave the man an embarrassed grin. “Hi, Mr. Vera.” He’s handsome, she thought. Probably where Zaii gets her looks. Momentarily, she considered thanking the man for what his daughter had done for her, but she decided she didn’t want to go into that. Then she tilted her head, thinking he looked familiar, though she wasn’t sure why. Probably looks like some actor, she decided.

  Drily, the man said, “Lot of shouting going on in here?”

  Zaii nodded. “Shelle wants to be more assertive. I was teaching her about command voice.”

  Vera nodded, then winked at Shelle, “Don’t try that technique on your mother. Some kids have tried it with ugly results.”

  Sounding embarrassed, Zaii said, “I was just practicing, Dad.”

  With a grin and a nod, Mr. Vera withdrew.

  Shelle turned to Zaii, “That was embarrassing!”

  “My parents are mentally challenged,” Zaii grumbled darkly.

  Thinking that Zaii’s dad had seemed very nice, Shelle felt surprised at Zaii’s grousing tone. Shelle thought, She’s probably as embarrassed by him as I am by my mother. She asked, “What’s your dad do over at Staze?”