Spoils of War

by Terry Mixon

  “Lead on, Macduff.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “I believe that Macbeth said, ‘Lay on, Macduff.’ It’s an invitation to start fighting, or so I understand, so that’s in effect the opposite of what I had in mind.”

  “Only if you do it wrong.”

  He laughed, and the two of them headed for the galley.

  Grace found herself looking forward to the meal. Since he wasn’t getting his bottle of drink now, she suspected he’d invite her back to his compartment for a nightcap.

  She was inclined to accept his offer. The death of her friend made her want to reaffirm that she was alive, and she liked Kayden. It might add some complication to their lives, but what was life without a dash of spice?

  21

  With the marine guards and Grace checking on her at various points during the evening, One Twenty-Four found it difficult to go to sleep. Her mind continued to race across unsure ground.

  Even if she had been inclined to sleep, it was too quiet. There were none of the sounds that one would expect when living in the crèche.

  She felt so alone.

  And then there were the unfamiliar sounds. The various mechanical noises seemed constant, but sometimes there were other sounds that she couldn’t decipher. Were they normal? What made them? Those thoughts kept her staring up at the bunk above her for long hours.

  She didn’t recall falling asleep but woke to a loud knock at the hatch leading to the bathroom—or the head, as Grace had called it.

  The name seemed nonsensical. Why not the tail? That would at least account for most of what took place in the room.

  Whatever it was called, it had amazed One Twenty-Four. Everything was so small, seemingly designed for a single person.

  Nothing in the crèche was designed for one person except the bunks. All showering and other activities took place in a group setting. That made the head feel even more alien than her quarters.

  Just one more thing to adjust to.

  When the knock repeated, One Twenty-Four sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted and ached all over. A lingering effect of her fall?

  She took a deep breath and rose, making her way to the hatch. It was lockable from her side, but she’d decided that wasn’t prudent. She was a prisoner, and a prisoner shouldn’t act as if she were doing something that mandated closer scrutiny. Just as in the crèche, one had to behave as if one were being watched at all times.

  In fact, she couldn’t dismiss that possibility. There could be vid cameras hidden in her quarters, monitoring everything she did. For that matter, she wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been some inside the crèche doing exactly the same thing.

  Keeper always wanted to know what they were doing. Why should Grace be any different?

  She opened the hatch and found her captor on the other side.

  “I’m prepared,” she said evenly.

  “You don’t look like you slept very well, which isn’t surprising, I suppose,” the woman ventured. “I hope that improves as you get used to us.

  “Before we get breakfast, I think we need to see about getting you some new clothes. Those look like you slept in them, and they’re also inappropriate for you now.

  “I’m sorry, but that life is behind you, Andrea. We’ll come up with something more suitable, though it will have to wait for a while. In the meantime, I’ll bet we can get something rigged up for you to use on the ship.”

  One Twenty-Four blinked in surprise. She’d seen others wearing different kinds of clothing yesterday. She wasn’t certain that any of the styles she’d seen actually appealed to her, but what did she know?

  Not that her preferences mattered one way or another. If they said that the uniform of the crèche was inappropriate—and she supposed it was—she’d have to adjust to whatever they selected for her.

  She nodded, accepting the inevitable. “I didn’t sleep well. I kept thinking about… everything. Then I fell asleep before I could prepare for bed.

  “I know that doesn’t make much sense, as I should have prepared for bed first, but I couldn’t seem to get my mind to work. Too much has changed in the last day, and I don’t know how to compensate for it. I just don’t have enough information.”

  The woman smiled at her. “We’ll address some of that today. Come on.”

  Grace closed the hatch leading to the head and led her out of her compartment.

  Two different marines stood outside the hatch to her quarters, both still women. The two examined her without bothering to hide the fact that they were doing so but fell in behind them as Grace led her to another part of the ship.

  Since they were openly examining her, One Twenty-Four turned and walked backward to consider them in turn. Like the other marines she’d seen, these two seemed athletic and capable. Their eyes told a tale of experience.

  In a way, their eyes were similar to Keeper’s. They hinted at knowledge that she didn’t have.

  She was grateful that their gaze didn’t seem hostile, but they were taking her in with a lot more interest than the first two marines had. It was if they were weighing her to determine if she was worthy of living. It was… unsettling.

  Walking backward, she almost missed the turn that Grace made to take them into a side corridor but was able to adjust with only a single hiccup in her step as she resumed walking forward.

  That pleased her. She’d always been agile and enjoyed the physical education class.

  She wondered if there would be more training like that now that she was outside the crèche. What form would it take? She would have to ask if the time ever seemed appropriate to do so.

  Grace led them to a small room whose hatch was open. Inside it, there was what appeared to be a concealed door that was wedged open. Interesting. Why hide this particular hatch?

  The strange opening led into a long tube that fed deeper into the ship. Several side hatches came and went at uneven intervals. Most of them were closed, but several were not, and she saw men and women dressed in the same coveralls that Grace wore.

  Their tasks seemed obscure, but they must serve a purpose. In one room in particular, she saw them working on weapons and armor. She knew that was what they were because they were similar to what the crèche guards had carried.

  They finally arrived at a compartment where a familiar face awaited them. Fei stood with her arms crossed, leaning back against a table.

  One Twenty-Four resisted the urge to go to the woman. Of all the people she’d met thus far, Fei made her feel the safest. That was undoubtedly an illusion, but it still made her feel better.

  As if sensing her emotions, Fei squatted down and held out her arms. “Come here, Little One.”

  Unsure of why the woman was holding her arms out, One Twenty-Four walked over. She was shocked when the woman wrapped her arms around her and held her close to her body. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “What is this?” she asked, stiffening.

  Fei turned her head so the two of them could see one another. “It’s called a hug. When people like one another, they hug. This is my way of showing you that I’m happy to see you.”

  “Should I… hug you back?”

  She’d never hugged anybody in her life. She had no idea what was going on, and her heart was racing.

  “I’d like it if you did, but if you don’t, I’ll understand. It’s undoubtedly going to take some time before you trust people enough to give just anyone a hug.”

  “I trust you,” she declared. “At least as much as I trust anybody.”

  She slid her arms around the woman and squeezed her slightly. She didn’t want to use too much of her strength, because Fei wasn’t doing so. She tried to match the level of engagement that the other woman was using.

  Her reaction appeared to be the correct one, because the other woman grinned and then stood. “Grace brought you here so that we can get you into something a little more suitable for use aboard a ship. Being marines, our options are fairly limited.

/>   “We’re going to fit you with a skinsuit similar to the ones we’re wearing. It’s a very versatile piece of clothing that will serve you well as general shipboard wear. They’re also quite comfortable.”

  One Twenty-Four found herself frowning. “So, you mean the coveralls? We had to wear something similar when we were doing particular kinds of work that would get us dirty.”

  The woman nodded. “They’re similar to coveralls, but not exactly the same. A skinsuit is something that can fit inside armor or a vacuum suit. In a pinch, you can go into space with one and be protected, though obviously your head would be exposed, and you couldn’t breathe. It also acts as a basic set of armor, protecting as much as it can against damage.

  “For example, say that you got into a knife fight while wearing a skinsuit. It’s strong enough to blunt stabs and protect you from slices, at least for long enough to defend yourself.”

  One Twenty-Four blinked at that description. It seemed that fighting and the effects of combat were more prevalent in the lives of marines than she’d considered. There was nothing wrong with that. Everyone needed to serve a purpose.

  She had absolutely no idea what her purpose would be now. Growing up, she’d known she’d either be one of the rulers of the Singularity, with everyone else following her directives, or she’d be dead. There had been no middle ground.

  With her a prisoner of the Empire, she didn’t know under what circumstances she’d be permitted to live or what tasks might be required of her. Now she might be in the servant class, or even lower in the hierarchy.

  If, of course, the Empire had such hierarchies to begin with.

  She’d discovered that her education in that respect had been lacking. She’d listened to what Grace had said about the Empire and decided that Keeper had given them flawed data about the other polity or had at least failed to mention certain details.

  Keeper’s understanding might even be completely incorrect in certain areas. More study was needed to be sure, and some direct observation.

  She had only a child’s education and was beginning to understand that her outlook on the world could be manipulated by the information she was given, as well as that which was withheld.

  Interestingly, once she’d begun to use the available translation software to examine some of the books written in Imperial Standard that Grace had provided, she’d started getting information that was at odds with what she’d been taught. The data in the tongue matched what Keeper had said.

  One or the other was definitely incorrect. Perhaps both. A deeper study would require her to develop actual skill at reading and speaking Standard. The process wouldn’t be quick or easy, but it seemed mandatory to uncover the truth.

  The woman had described hers as a much freer society than the Singularity, and based on the information that One Twenty-Four had read in the Imperial books, that seemed to be true.

  In any case, she didn’t have a choice about changing clothing. Grace had said that the crèche uniform was inappropriate, so she should feel honored that the marines were giving her something of theirs to wear.

  “I’m sure that I’ll get used to it,” she said, inclining her head slightly toward Fei. “I don’t pretend to know anything about fighting. Keeper had only just begun teaching us about hand-to-hand combat, and I wasn’t very good at it.

  “None of us were. It was never expected that we would come to blows with anyone else because we had guards to protect us, but she insisted that we fight one another to learn how incapable we were at it.”

  Fei’s eyes narrowed. “She just pointed you towards one another and said fight? No training at all? You’ll forgive me if I find that pathetic.

  “If you’re interested in learning more about fighting, I have some knowledge of the process and would be happy to educate you on the basics of how one goes into combat with another.”

  For the first time since she’d found herself in these unexpected circumstances, One Twenty-Four smiled. “If Grace allows me to do so, I would like to know more. I’ve felt helpless for so long.”

  The fact that it would allow her to bond with her captors also held merit. Keeper wouldn’t approve, but that only made the moment feel sweeter. Keeper didn’t rule her world anymore, and she’d do whatever was required to assure her survival.

  Making new friends was the first step and one she was beginning to enjoy. Her world might come crashing down at some point shortly, but she was done letting uncertainty freeze her with fear.

  22

  Smiling, Grace shook her head as she watched Andrea and Na interact. The sergeant had never struck her as potentially being anyone’s aunt, but she certainly looked up to the role. She just had a certain way about herself that seemed to make Andrea trust her.

  Grace didn’t have any objection to the girl learning how to fight. It would also give her something to focus on other than her current circumstances.

  “You wouldn’t know it from the way she underplays her skills, but Fei is an extremely competent hand-to-hand fighter,” Grace offered. “If you choose to take her up on her offer, pay very close attention, because you’re not going to find many people more skilled at close-range fighting on this ship, or off it, for that matter. Teaching others to fight is one of her primary responsibilities.”

  Andrea nodded at that and turned back to face Na. “I would be honored. I don’t know anything about what my future will hold, but having something that I can focus my attention on might help me better adjust to my new circumstances. Thank you, Fei.”

  The Asian woman smiled. “It will be my pleasure, but I’m not certain that you should thank me just yet. The training will not be easy. In fact, there are times when it’s going to be painful and discouraging.”

  Andrea shrugged slightly. “The crèche taught me that there are painful things that either must be accepted or overcome.”

  Grace stepped over to stand beside Na. “That’s not always true, but when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, you’re right. Now, we’re going to have to take off your uniform, and Fei will measure you. Once she has all the appropriate dimensions, she can tailor one of our skinsuits to fit you.

  “It’s going to be a little bit more involved than just wearing coveralls though. You’re going to have to be shown how to fit the waste removal system. Basically, you’re going to have to wear a catheter.

  “Solid waste is more problematic, but the suit can handle isolating that if you really need to go. You’d be much better served if you use the bathroom before you put it on, though. That’s a lot simpler. The systems are meant to handle issues like those when it’s inconvenient to take a restroom break. Like in the middle of combat.”

  The girl frowned. “Is it absolutely necessary that I wear this… catheter?”

  Grace shook her head. “No. In fact, I would suggest that you don’t insert it unless you anticipate really needing it. Still, if you don’t know how to fit it, you’re going to be in a bind if you need to. While I could walk you through it, it might be best if Fei showed you what to do.”

  “I think you would be a better choice for this,” Na disagreed. “As her guardian, it should be you who performs this instruction.”

  Grace was surprised at the other woman’s quick rejection but nodded. “I suppose I can do it. The process isn’t very complicated. I apologize now for any embarrassment or discomfort it causes you.”

  Both Grace and Na had instructed any number of marines—male and female—in the use of catheters. She’d never performed this task for someone so young and anticipated that it was going to be an embarrassing matter for the girl.

  Her concern that Andrea would be self-conscious was unfounded. The girl stripped off her clothes without the least indication that she was bothered by public nudity. That was probably one of the side effects of growing up in a communal setting like she had.

  Once Fei had tailored a skinsuit for her, Andrea began putting it on, and Grace instructed her on how to fit the catheter at the appropriate point in
the process. It took a couple of tries before Andrea grasped the basics, but with a little bit of practice, Grace thought that she wouldn’t have any difficulty with it.

  Then she showed the girl how to change out the catheter tip. In an emergency, they could be sterilized, but it was best to simply dispose of used ones to avoid the chance of infection.

  With that done, they helped Andrea finish donning the skinsuit.

  Grace walked around her and eyed the fit critically before nodding in satisfaction. “Excellent. Fei, if you’d make another couple of suits, I think she’ll be able to use these for the rest of the trip.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Na said. “While I do that, you should probably explain to her what a guardian is and what her responsibility to you will be as your ward.”

  Grace still wasn’t certain that she was ready to have that conversation, but Na was right. It needed to be done. In fact, the girl needed to understand exactly what her status was going to be inside the Empire. If, of course, this worked out anything like what she’d planned.

  She took a deep breath and faced Andrea squarely. “It’s important that you realize that some of what you’ve been told about the Empire is correct, even though it’s been taken out of context. Imperial law states that a designed being like yourself is property.

  “That was never meant to be something used against an actual individual, I think. It was enacted to enrage the ruling caste of the Singularity. In other words, it’s more of a political ploy than a punishment intended for real people.”

  The girl frowned slightly. “I’m assuming that a law is something like the rules we lived under in the crèche. Intent doesn’t mean anything, only compliance with the rule.”

  “Let me be absolutely clear about something,” Grace said seriously. “No one is going to harm you. Everything you were told about somebody cutting you apart and experimenting on you, that is never going to happen. You have my word on that. If anybody means you mischief, it’ll only happen over my dead body, and I’m damned hard to kill.