"I.D. confirmed," the female marine said into her wrist comm unit. With the rifle trained on Aer'La's heart, she and her companion advanced.
The male held out the cuffs. "We're taking you into protective custody. Do not attempt to resist."
The idiot obviously hadn't done his homework. "Do not attempt to resist" was a null phrase to Aer'La. Hooking a foot under her mattress, she sent it flying into the faces of the two marines. A human of Aer'La's size and shape wouldn't have been able to lift the mattress this way, much less throw it so far. It caught her assailants by surprise, though they managed not to be knocked off their feet by the weight which struck them.
Aer'La leapt up using the remaining bed frame as a spring board, pulled herself into a ball, somersaulted, and made a three point landing on the mattress, forcing it down and further knocking the marines off balance. She was now closer to the hatch than they. She made for it frantically.
She was aware that the female raised her pulse rifle. Then she heard the male shout, "No! Don't kill her!" just before he propelled himself through the air towards Aer'La, grabbing her ankle as he landed.
She kicked at his helmeted head, then clawed at his wrist with her upper hand. Neither attack accomplished anything. He was too well armored. If she was to gain any ground, she would have to be able to handle his entire weight, and throw him. She vaulted herself up with her lower arm, using her strength to turn while still in his grasp and land on top of him. She aimed a driving fist at his neck, where the helmet ended and the collar of his vest began, hoping to inflict enough damage to distract him.
Distract him she did, but there was still the female. She'd come up from behind while Aer'La grappled with her partner. Raising the pulse rifle over her shoulder, she brought its butt down hard on Aer'La's skull. Pulse rifles were mostly plastic and titanium in construction, and so did not have the heft of a more ancient firearm. The blow was enough to disorient Aer'La, however. Then the female marine seized her by the shoulders and hurled her bodily across the cabin. She landed on her back across her desk. There was a shattering sound, and then the sharp burst of pain as shards of crystal drove themselves into the flesh of her back. She'd landed on a crystal statue of the hunt goddess, Diana, a recent birthday gift from Celia Faulkner.
Before she could get up, the female marine was on her, pinning her legs against the desk, and yanking her upper body forward so her partner could place the cuffs around Aer'La's wrists.
The woman looked at Aer'La, her eyes cold. "You stupid little bitch. Did you really think you could get away from us?"
Aer'La spat in her face.
They led her out of the cabin and into the corridor. There a new indignity confronted her. On either side of the hatch, two lines of people stood at attention. The line on the left was headed by Admiral Fournier. Beside him, their faces set in masks of stone, were Atal, Faulkner and her fellow Arbiters, plus Blaurich and Flynn. Darby stood at the front of the line on the right, which included most of the casual crew. Seeing Aer'La bound and bloodied, Felicity Shan let out a whoop of delight. Darby called out for silence in the ranks, but not before Ceres Smith very quietly placed her boot heel on top of the younger woman's instep and shifted her weight onto it. Shan gasped, hopped gently on her non-injured foot, and allowed her eyes to warn Smith that they would take up this matter later.
Fournier called the assembly to attention. Aer'La was held upright by a marine at each arm, facing the Admiral. "The officers and crew of the Titan have been assembled at my order to witness the arrest of Aer'La, formerly Bos'n of this vessel. Let this serve as an example to each and every one of you of the futility of attempting to take lightly the discipline of the service, or to play fast and loose with Navy regulations."
He looked Aer'La up and down. "I can see from this outburst that we can expect trouble from the prisoner. The reports of her savagery are clearly not exaggerations. Ship's Physician?"
Flynn briskly stepped out of the line and saluted.
"You will see to it that the prisoner is taken to the infirmary, and the medications prescribed by the Varthan investigator are administered."
Celia Faulkner's eyebrows shot up. "Admiral, I protest –"
"Captain Atal, you will maintain discipline among your personal staff!" Fournier snapped, cutting her off. "Please remind non-essential personnel that their opinions are neither relevant, nor are they welcome."
"Admiral –" Atal began.
"There will be no further discussion, Captain."
Celia's face, like those of the former officers of the Arbiter, was a study in self-control battling with humiliation and anger. On most of the faces, self control was not faring well.
Aer'La's own self-control, what little there was of it, was exhausted. She jerked forward in the grasp of the marines, as though she might launch herself on the pompous figure of the Admiral. "You son of a bitch!" she roared at him. "It's not enough to do this to me! You have to bring my friends into it!" She pulled hard against the restraints and screamed until her throat hurt from the effort. "If I can get away from them, I swear I'll kill you!"
"Remove the prisoner," Fournier said tightly.
As they dragged her down the corridor, Aer'La called over her shoulder. "Do you hear me, Fournier? You better hope they kill me, or someday I'll rip your fucking throat out!"
Her female escort lifted her rifle and once again clouted her behind the ear with its butt. This time it had the desired effect. After an initial burst of light shone before her eyes, blackness descended, and Aer'La passed out.
* * *
On orders from Fournier, Atal left his officers and reported to the infirmary to witness the administration of the "prescribed medication" to Aer'La. The medication, of course, was the sedative cocktail Aer'La called grog. He was not ordered to bring Faulkner, and he knew Fournier would object to her presence. That was only a side benefit to her being there, in Atal's eyes. He also wanted his own medical observer present.
Atal knew that his young officers needed him, as well. They were angry, hurt, very probably considering resigning from the service. Indeed, if he thought, as most of them did, that this matter was closed, he might join them in abandoning ship. Atal knew, however, that the matter wasn't closed – not quite. Keeping close watch on what happened to Aer'La was priority one right now. Much as he wished he could counsel his proteges, they would have to wait.
Flynn had selected one of the Titan infirmary's many private examining rooms for the administration of the drug. Arriving there, Atal and Faulkner found a man and a woman with holo cameras waiting impatiently at the door. Their eyes lit when they saw Atal, and both bolted to intercept him.
"Captain Atal, can you confirm –"
Atal raised his hand. "Please. This is... a bad time for my crew." He looked around him. "How did you even get in here?"
"Admiral Fournier authorized it. Captain Darby selected two of us by lots to –"
Atal nodded impatiently. "I see. I take it you've been instructed to wait here?"
"Yes. But will you go on record as objecting to –"
"I will not go on record at all," said Atal. "At the moment, I don't speak for this ship. My private opinions, like the events transpiring today, are none of the public's damn business." Gesturing to Celia to follow him, he shouldered past them and entered the examining room. Aer'La lay, still groggy, on the table. Flynn fussed over a nurse as he prepared the injection. Mors, Fournier and the two marines stood to the side.
"Nicely put, Jan," said Mors, "if inaccurate. This is very much the public's business. Their money is funding these obscene proceedings."
"Professor," said Fournier, "I allowed you to be here as a courtesy. Please don't abuse the privilege."
"You're a fine one to talk of abuse, Fournier," said Celia.
"What is she doing here?" Fournier demanded.
"I believe I am allowed to bring members of my staff along when their skill sets are relevant to the business at hand," said Atal. "Or have I l
ost all of the privileges to which a captain is entitled?"
Fournier sighed roughly. "I don't really care, Atal. Let's just get this done."
"First things first," said Atal. "Celia, check Aer'La for injuries. When this is over, the Admiralty will answer for any damage that female orangutan has done."
"Absolutely not!" said Fournier. "Your spiritual guru has no business examining this patient!"
"How would you like to spend the rest of your days eating flies on a lily pad, Admiral Fournier?" asked Celia.
Atal suppressed a smile. "Not yet, Doctor. Georg, a prisoner undergoing treatment is entitle to third party assessment of her condition, as is a prisoner against whom physical force has been applied. You can dance around the issue all you want... but I will repeat my request in front of those two reporters, if you refuse it now."
"You're nothing but a jailhouse lawyer, Atal. All right, dammit. Make it quick!"
While Celia moved to look over Aer'La, Atal asked, "And what the hell are the media doing here?"
"We're going to do this above board, Atal," Fournier almost sneered. "There's been too much secrecy in the handling of this matter already, and secrecy is bad press for the Navy. The public is terrified of these ferals –"
"Because the media has been spreading lies and hysteria!" said Celia.
"That's their job, Doctor. Our job is to calm the public's fears. Not just to make them actually safe, but to make them feel they are safe. By capturing this escaped feral, we've shown them that their military can protect them."
"And who protects them from the military?"
"Doctor, that's hardly an appropriate question," said Fournier.
"I believe it's the appropriate question," interjected Atal. "When you send your storm troopers to brutalize a woman who has yet to be convicted of a crime, when no warrant has been issued for her arrest –"
"The Arbiters' Council instructed that she was to be released into the custody of –"
"But there were no grounds for taking her into custody to begin with!" insisted Atal. "Only a murder charge made by a charlatan, who claims he has evidence, but has not turned it over to any –"
"I refuse to entertain this discussion!"
"Aer'La has a mild concussion," Celia announced. "In addition, there's a great deal of bruising, and several lacerations to the skin of her lower back. All courtesy of your attempts to protect the public, Admiral."
"The Varthans will treat her, I'm sure," said Fournier.
"I want to make some holos for the record."
Fournier stalked towards her. "This has gone far enough! I've allowed your examination, and you said there's nothing wrong with her. I won't – "
"I said no such thing!" Celia shot back. "I said she's been injured. Her injuries are not life threatening, and no permanent physical damage has been sustained. That doesn't mean she hasn't been assaulted. There should be a record –"
"Why?" Fournier demanded. "So she can file a lawsuit?"
Celia drew herself up and set her chin firmly. "It's possible."
"This is ridiculous!"
"Georg," said Mors quietly, "I'm afraid you have to admit that your arresting officers went overboard. And there were quite a few witnesses."
"Professor, pardon me if the situation makes me speak bluntly, but your people's pacifist beliefs don't always fit reality. Government can't always do things nicely and politely."
"Phaetonians are not exactly pacifists," Mors said mildly. "We believe that the concept of the marketplace is applicable in all arenas. Free and fair trade relies on people giving kind for kind, and that requires honesty and respect for the rights of all. Violence necessarily negates –"
"This is not a classroom, Professor," Fournier said sharply. He turned to Celia. "You may have all the holos you want, after this animal is sedated. And now, all further discussion is closed. Corporal, invite the reporters in."
* * *
Vixyn Tantacles was everyone's favorite human news reporter. Her publicist said so, anyway. Vixyn believed a disturbingly high percentage of what her publicist told her, just as a disturbingly high percentage of the public believed what Vixyn told them.
Vixyn was a staggering beauty in a culture of staggering beauty. She never appeared in public clothed. She ordered destroyed any holos or representations of herself clothed in anything other than body glitter and holo jewelry. A niche industry had grown in Confederate space, selling holos of Vixyn wearing clothes. Her lawyers attempted to stamp out such illegal trade, but were no more effective than any celebrity's lawyers had even been at stopping her fans from getting what they wanted.
Today, Vixyn's broadcast of The Naked Truth covered a topic that titillated viewers even more than Vixyn's own mammalian endowments did: the capture of the escaped Varthan Feral aboard the Titan. Appearing in living rooms, bedrooms, passenger lounges, on sidewalks, beaches, and floating overhead at sports arenas, Vixyn related the gruesome details of the latest episode...
"Naval authorities today successfully arrested Aer'La, the Varthan feral who escaped medical treatment on Den nearly three years ago. She's been masquerading as a human ever since, and had worked her way up to become bos'n of the Titan, the Confederacy's flagship.
"Authorities say Aer'La resisted, leading to a dangerous battle, in which arresting officers barely escaped with their lives. After the feral was subdued, she was taken to the ship's hospital, where, as you see in the companion holo to my right, she was given the medication she's so badly needed, all these years.
"Here, Dr. Romney Flynn administers the injection of what he describes as a complex of psychotropic drugs, including sedatives, antidepressants and antipsychotics. Without them, a feral's natural tendency towards homicidal rage is curbed only by her own intelligence and capacity for self control. Experts assure us that neither commodity is present to any degree in members of this species. Given her behavior today, clearly, Aer'La isn't long on self-control.
"Dr. Flynn explains that the drugs will give Aer'La a sense of well-being, something she's always lacked without them. He says that her psychological history, taken by Dr. Celia Faulkner, who apparently helped Aer'La hide her inhumanity, shows a past riddled with paranoid delusions, feelings of rejection, and nymphomaniac tendencies.
"You'll notice here that Aer'La appears to relax as the drugs take hold.
"Aer'La will now be taken to Varthan Freespace, accompanied by a Confederate representative. There, she will stand trial for the crime of murder."
"Coming up next: talking to kids about Masquerading Feral Anxiety, and an exclusive interview with Titan midshipman (and Quintil's hearththrob) sexy Sestus Blaurich. Sorry, boys and girls, he kept his clothes on during the interview."
* * *
The main hatch to the infirmary opened, rousing the Arbiters, who had sunken, silent and foreboding, each into his or her own thoughts. Two marines led Aer'La out. She appeared to be walking under her own power, but her eyes gazed blindly forward, registering nothing.
Cernaq stepped into their path. Both guards went rigid at first. Then, seeing the slim form which posed them no threat, halted for a moment.
"Aer'La?" said Cernaq quietly. He lifted her face with one finger. She had dropped her eyes to the ground when he'd appeared before her. Now, looking at him, her eyes attempted to focus. She blinked, trying to help them. It was clear, though, that it wasn't working. She shook her head, vacantly.
"Aer'La," he said again. "Did they hurt you?"
"I... I don't know," she mumbled. "I... I don't know you, master."
They led her on down the hall. Cernaq didn't watch them go, his own face now pointed at the deck at their feet.
"Cernaq?" asked Metcalfe. "Did you pick anything up? In her mind? Is she – ?"
Metcalfe broke off, for Cernaq had looked up at him. Neither he, Carson nor Kaya had ever seen the Phaetonian cry. Now the glistening, yellow eyes which looked at them leaked silent tears.
Yes, he had touched Aer'La's mind. And ther
e, he'd found nothing familiar.
Chapter Eleven
Quicker than the Eye
"I want to see her," said Celia Faulkner, in a tone which brooked no argument. "In fact, I demand to see her. She's my patient, dammit!"
Georg Fournier studied her, the only sign of stress on him the slow, rhythmic tapping of two knuckles against the side of his leg. He was a cool one, all right. No doubt the result of having his conscience removed several years back, thought Atal. The century-old matron of a Wiccan coven was not an easy woman to ignore. She carried an air of wisdom, confidence and subtle malice about her. She inspired in even the bravest officer fear that, if crossed, she just might turn the object of her pique into a small, semiaquatic salamander. Currently, she was also giving the Secretary of the Navy the withering, disapproving gaze that her young shipmates referred to, simply and in tones of reverence, as "The Look."
He was only phased enough to eschew his accustomed rudeness. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's impossible. Dr. Flynn will provide medical supervision until the transfer – "
"No!" insisted Celia.
Fournier suddenly looked very tired. "Doctor... this is a difficult situation. You're only making it worse. There's nothing you can do for the girl, anyway."
They were on Atal's promenade – the Captain, Celia, Fournier and Mors. The impromptu meeting had been called at Mors's suggestion when Celia had very nearly been arrested trying to enter Aer'La's quarters.
"Tell me Georg," Mors now said, "what exactly is supposed to be happening?"
"The girl will be transferred to Captain Harl's ship."
"And why hasn't that been done? You have her drugged."
"The Judge Advocate General's office insisted on reviewing Harl's evidence prior to transfer."
"Then there's still a chance Aer'La won't be extradited to them," said Celia.
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