Strangers and Lies

by P. S. Power

  When she finished she got ready for him to order her to prison, since there wasn't much need for a trial, given everything, having just confessed, but he relaxed instead, almost going limp.

  "Alright. I came ready to blame the deaths on the Con-sev agents on the scene and have to leave wondering if they're all cowards instead. I admit that there was very little else that could have been done. I suppose we'll have to run with that story about the man honorably killing himself. No one will believe it, but it's better than telling the truth, that our own forces are too weak to do what's needed like that. If people found out that I let them force the job on you, they'd lynch me in the street and put my Uncle in place instead. He'd have done the job himself if he were there. Maybe he should be in charge?"

  Then, almost as if something had happened when she wasn't looking, the man changed the subject. For a second she wondered if she'd passed out for a moment. The buzzing was intense enough at least.

  "The relief program for the Chinoise is going very well. Their Ambassador has asked me to convey that to you personally, and requests that you come to visit and inspect their program soon. Your chosen man, Daniel Chuan, is doing an excellent job I hear. Unfortunately some of our resources have suggested that a much larger terroristic attack is about to occur in all locations. We've been scrambling, trying to step up our protections, but so far it still seems on course. I trust that you'll be available to aid us, if we fail to stop it?"

  "Yeah. I'd help before that too, but I guess that I'm still too open to attack, mentally? Just learning some new tricks and haven't even started on that one yet. I did learn to levitate today, so if you need anything placed on a really high shelf, just let me know." She was actually a little proud of the fact, so smiled about it hugely, but the King gave her a funny look, as if she were trying to get him to praise her or something.

  Which she was, a little. Instead of mocking her, he gestured for her to stand up.

  "Alright, let's see it then? Try to impress me." His face was in a fixed smile, a slightly sneering thing for some reason, even though that wasn't his normal type of look at all. Normally he was really polite all the time. He must be under extra stress or something.

  Really it had the feeling of a person steeling themselves for a boring joke or minor event that they were going to have to seem pleased with, even if the whole thing was kind of wasted time. She'd seen the look on sit-coms. Normally when kids were performing in plays at school.

  She didn't make him wait at least, just floating up to the ceiling, putting her right palm on the light colored wood there and pushing back a bit, then using the mental control device to fly from one side of the space, which was only about forty feet away, to the other a few times, landing after about two minutes, her head splitting, and totally out of breath. When she set down the men both stood and smiled though, as if it had at least been a nifty show. Hopefully that meant it was worth the price of admission. She hadn't charged them, so giving refunds wasn't going to work well for the bottom line, was it?

  When she could speak, half a minute later she took a deep breath and sighed.

  "I know. Beth and Darren Westmorland both told me that I need to be able to do a lot better, going at least five times higher and doing it for an hour without stopping, but I'm just starting. Hopefully little kids won't be making fun of me on the playground if I ever try it outside." Because, from long experience, Gwen knew she hated that. Kids could be little bastards without even thinking about it.

  The King smiled at her and looked off to the side, at the Count, who hadn't said a word.

  "Well, Miss Farris, I imagine that as your friends, the Westmorlands might be phrasing things in a way that seems... Different than the reality of the situation. Still, hard work never harmed anyone, did it?" There was a blandness to his words that seemed out of place, but he didn't scold her for wasting his time, which she clearly had been. It would be like her showing the President her finger painting skills.

  They had to leave a bit after that and no one came to bother, or entertain, her, for several more hours. She spent the time scrubbing instead, trying to get the grime and filth of death off of her. It didn't come off, no matter how hard she scrubbed herself, but by the time dinner was to be served she felt better. Clean at least, on the outside. She climbed into one of Katherine's big dresses, a thing that was nice but not party ready, and presented herself at the table, her hair still a bit damp, but pulled back to keep it out of the way. She'd put make-up on, because that was what you did in this new world. You made-up your face and kept your hair tidy all the time, if you were a woman. Clothing wrinkle free and ready for inspection all the time too.

  No one really seemed to pay that kind of attention to you, when you were with them, but behind your back these people gossiped like it was the national pass time. Meaning they did it in public. Mainly on the telesar, which was basically radio, and the center of their daily entertainment and didn't really care if you heard them talking about you or not.

  She hadn't bothered to listen to the thing for months, since one of the prime topics had been her, and even though most of the people saying things had been nice enough as far as she went personally, the Vernors had been hit pretty hard, having been Katherine's parents. Even though the official story now was that Debussey had brainwashed her into doing it. After forcing the girl to be her lesbian lover.

  Gwen had come up with that one herself. It was a lie, but when confronted with it Erin Debussey had acted so guilty that the whole world had just kind of accepted it as fact. Enough so that Gwen half wondered how much validity there was to the whole thing herself.

  The part where Debussey was sort of her cross world mom got ignored for the time being. She wasn't her mother and even if she had been, destroying an entire planet for personal gain was wrong. It wasn't something she could just let happen to make her clearly awful mother happy.

  At the meal she found a happy enough bit of relief when she sat down, since Merchant Admiral Welk was there visiting and, it seemed, mooching a free meal. Fair enough, since the Vernors could afford it. The man was in his mid forties, in good shape and wearing civilian clothing for once, which looked a little funny on him, since he was almost always in uniform.

  "Katherine!" He smiled and stood, his face not falling for several seconds. "I mean, Miss Farris. I hope this latest ordeal wasn't too much for you?" There was a genteel and polite manner to it, which seemed to be heartfelt.

  "Um..." She said brilliantly, not having realized that the news of the Counts death would have spread to him yet. Things moved fairly slowly in this place most of the time. "I'm fine. It's good to see you though! I was planning on calling soon and seeing if I could sign on for a tour as a ship's engineer's apprentice or whatever it's called here. Do something useful for a while." She meant it, but the man sat, shaking his head a little.

  "After what's happened? I... Don't you need to rest?"

  She flipped her palms over and sat across from the man, since there were only four places set and the Vernors always liked to sit at the head of the table. She took a sip of water from a nice looking crystal goblet and then gave the man a frank look, not really knowing what he knew or not.

  "I've seen death before. It's never easy, but I'll deal. I do need to get some tutoring in using my abilities here, but other than that no one is really letting me do much."

  The man froze and then looked around the room, finally leaning in. "Excuse me dear? Death? I was speaking of your broken engagement with Duke Aubrey."

  That took Gwen by surprise. Not because it wasn't broken, but just that the whole thing had been a bit of a misfire the whole time. Plus... months back. The boy was nice enough, but she'd kind of been busily kicking his father when he died. It wasn't her fault, the man had committed suicide, but that plus the fact that the guy had been mesmerized into trying to kill her by Debussey had kind of turned him off a bit. Go figure? She needed to send him a note or something, to keep in touch.

  "Ah, well,
that kind of thing happens. Best not to dwell on it, right?" It actually did hurt a little, but after living an entire life of being alone, the idea that someone didn't want her held a bit less sting than it might for others.

  Gwen tried to avoid the topic that was no doubt going to come up later, that being the death she'd mentioned, and the man, prince that he was, picked up on that and didn't speak about it at all. If the guy wasn't the Uncle of the body she was in, she'd have totally asked him out on a date. As it was he was in the top five for her favorite people in this place, which was a much larger list than she'd had in her own world.

  The silence on the topic lasted all of ten minutes, since the Vernors both came to the table together, murmuring to both of the seated people and looking concerned and worried. That kind of hard, nearly frozen faced thing they did here when very bad news had to be delivered.

  Robert cleared his throat and then didn't start for a long time. Ethyl looked at her plate and then swallowed, but also didn't mention anything. It started to make Gwen feel pretty tense, which she hid, hoping it wasn't about her, or about Katherine. Business had fallen off for a few weeks, but that seemed to be picking right back up, because, like them or not, the largest shipping fleet in the world was still needed. She started to fear a new attack, like Ferdinand had mentioned, when her "father" spoke.

  "Some bad news came in earlier, it seems that Count Kavas has died. There are rumors that it wasn't... exactly a normal house fire."

  That got Thomas to sit up straighter and look over at Gwen for a bit before speaking.

  "Related to all this terrorist nonsense?"

  The slightly younger looking man at the head of the table looked at the Admiral and pulled at the front of his suit jacket, which had one button open, for comfort. "It seems like. He and some of his men were apparently trying to sacrifice some women... Sordid affair. I heard that the Special Service had people on the ground that took care of him. All hushed and silent. It's illegal, of course, to kill a Count, no matter who you are." He seemed distressed by the idea, but in his normal, quiet and somewhat stoic fashion.

  Ethyl had a different set of rumors, which involved the Con-sev people on the ground beating the man for his crimes. "I heard that the women were rescued, but a man from the city that had tried to protect them was murdered by the Count or his men, in cold blood. It seems a truly ghastly thing. I do hope that that evil woman doesn't try to lash out at innocent people over this."

  That would be Erin Debussey, in the role of the evil woman, Gwen realized, which was better than having the job herself. She didn't actually know what she was allowed to tell anyone or not, being that no one had actually given her any information of that kind in regards to the situation. She decided to go with the story that the King said to run with, figuring that he might just back her up on that one, if it came down to it.

  Clearing her throat a little nervously she started in, trying not to allow anything to become too graphic. It was still hard to think about, at least parts of it.

  "He... They were children. Two girls and a boy. The boy fought and tried to save the girls it seems, so was taken and murdered, then dumped in a refuse bin. We tracked the girls to the Count's estate, but couldn't go in, until we saw a person climb the wall, requiring us to follow. He was real by the way, the man going over the wall." There was no need to mention names, but she owed the man something for that, her thanks if nothing else. "Then I found Count Kavas raping the older of the two girls. We stopped him, the Special Service and Con-sev, and yes, he was beaten a bit by one of the men, but he and his men opted for suicide instead of trying to fight the whole thing in the press. They used my crin for it. A fire started. Lamp oil had been spilled all over the room and a candle flame lit it."

  She stopped there, not looking at anyone, except when Mrs. Vernor held a white linen napkin to her mouth. "Oh, my!"

  The first course came and she expected the conversation to either die or change, but that, it seemed, as gross and horrid as the conversation was, didn't happen at all. Instead Robert and Thomas tried to work out how to best use their insider information to turn a profit.

  "I have a few people that would like to know this. Help deepen some contacts. Are you certain this is the official story Gwen?" The shipping magnate locked eyes with her for a moment, then broke off first, as if he were being rude.

  "I think so. It was the case when Ferdinand left earlier. It could change, but it is the one I came up with." Everyone gave her a funny look then and oddly enough Ethyl sobbed, a single, harsh thing that sounded forlorn.

  "You... the Special Service and Con-sev, actually killed him, didn't you?"

  There was a moment when Gwen nearly lied, but that would be wrong, so she tilted her head to the side a bit instead and spoke without accent, not bothering for the moment. She normally did, since it helped her fit in better. It probably showed how distressed she was by the whole thing.

  "Not... really. I killed them. I guess that means the Special Service did. I wasn't joking about them asking to die instead of facing the public however. The Count was a psychopath, a serial murderer. Which... isn't a term you use here, is it? Well... It hasn't been confirmed yet, but the Count and his men claimed there were scores of bodies buried in the back yard, all girls the Count had... used to death." She couldn't think of a nicer way to say it. "The servants, they didn't have a choice in the matter, I guess. I mean, I would have killed myself first, but who knows what pressure they were under? The story, the official one, let's them keep a bit more dignity I think." As if they deserved that now.

  Robert nodded then and Ethyl, for once, didn't run around to her seat and hug her, crying about how hurt she must be. Instead she just seemed hard suddenly.

  "Good. I'm not happy that you had to be the one to act, but I'm glad it was done, if he was that kind of person. I don't think we should ever mention that part of things again, however. It's enough to leave them what little honor your story affords. It will also help you stay safe." There was a firm set to the slightly older woman's mouth, which didn't look pretty on her face, but held a nobility anyway, that was hard to miss.

  The other two men, and Winslow who was bringing in the next course, even though no one had touched the first yet, all nodded. She trusted them not to speak, especially since, given everything, her looking like a psycho, going around executing noblemen probably wouldn't go over well. People would blame them for it, as if that made any sense at all.

  The rest of the meal went better, since the Admiral was assured that she wasn't heartbroken and desperate after being broken up with. The strange thing about that part was that, even after admitting to murder, he thought the bigger deal was a broken engagement. It showed a slightly skewed perception of reality. To her at least.

  The dessert was just as small as the rest of the courses, but after an hour of eating, slowly and with tiny silverware that still amazed her, since it was so cute, they were all fairly well fed, or at least not hungry. It was a strange way to eat, but even though the average person spent two or three hours a day at meal, no one was overly fat. One or two people she'd met were kind of chunky and a lot of them were a little plush, but there hadn't been even one of those hyper-obese people that needed scooters to get around.

  It could be that she just hadn't met enough people and that not having television here meant she missed seeing the extreme outliers, but she thought it might just be that the tiny portions and slow eating helped people not consume too much food. People also walked more and kept busy actually doing things, rather than watching television. Even while they sat and listened to the hate box, which is what Gwen decided to call the telesar, at least in her own head, people tended to read or work on some other little project, since there was nothing to see.

  Beth liked to do needlework for instance.

  After that, even though it was still a bit early to go to bed, she decided to get ready for it, making certain she had a set of clothing ready to go, in case of an emergency. If she had to
get up at four in the morning again, she was going to be clothed. Not well, just in an old tan jumpsuit, that would be great for working in, but wasn't going to be right if royalty called. Still, if Ferdinand wanted to come visit her in the middle of the night, he could get in touch first. At least if he wanted anything better than work clothes.

  The idea caught her for a second, since the man was young and good looking, but she wrote it off. No one had been very flirtatious with her at all since the truth about her not being from that world had come out. Except Kelvin Westmorland, but he wasn't around, even if she was feeling a bit adventurous. That would probably be a bad idea anyway, since she didn't want him to get in trouble and Mr. Vernor, rich and powerful businessman or not, would try very hard to beat poor Kelvin to the floor if he thought the man was trying to do anything with his daughter, even if she really was Gwen. He'd promised once to treat her as if she were his own child and so far both the Vernors had done that to a level that almost boggled the mind.

  So, after she got to sleep, it was only half a surprise when someone pounded on her bedroom door in the middle of the night. They didn't just walk in and the thing didn't have a lock on it, so she got up and opened it, just a crack, ready to fight if she had to. It was a bit of a surprise, since the person standing there was someone she knew, but wasn't anyone she knew by name. It was a young boy, dressed in Westmorland working blue, looking more than a little tired himself and holding a Teletransport sphere.