Deborah Hockney

by Jocasta's Gift

  ‘My name’s Bella.’

  Then, much to Jocasta’s surprise, she gave him the most beautiful, dazzling smile, which seemingly charmed him. It certainly helped when she then demanded, but oh so nicely, that he hand over his glasses. Which, Jocasta noticed, he did without a moment’s hesitation.

  In contrast Ed was forcibly pushed into his seat by the woman named Mex, who appeared to be in charge of this situation. She set herself purposefully down in the chair opposite him. Her eyes gave the impression of being able to follow everyone in the room, an accomplishment that Jocasta found most disconcerting. But, she felt even more alarmed when she realised who was about to interrogate her; as interrogation was exactly what they had been brought here for. Murf steered her firmly to a seat and shoved her into it; her spine jarred and her palms became clammy as he plonked himself heavily at the table directly opposite her, his metal teeth gleaming in the harsh light.

  ‘Let it begin.’ The voice rang out clearly and Jocasta involuntarily shrunk away from Murf, who was leering towards her. Suspecting that the voice had authenticated the infliction of pain that she felt in her head she tried to work out where it had come from but found the effort too much. The room became silent, and even the spectators from around the room seemed to retreat further against the walls.

  And the voice had no body and Jocasta knew instinctively that it hadn’t come from a techno speaker.

  The silence seemed to smother her like a samgee suit, and she was no longer aware of David, or Ed, or Will. She longed to close her eyes… It was as if she was underwater, and the pressure was pushing on her eardrums, she couldn’t hear anything except muffled noises that might have been someone crying, or laughing, or screaming, she couldn’t tell anymore. Her arms and legs felt as though they were melding into part of the chair, and her airways were filling with a substance that stifled her breathing.

  Blinded, deafened and almost completely paralysed, her breathing came with a horrible wheezing sound that she could hear deep in her ears, there was a tightness forming in her chest, a knot of anxiety…

  And then a noise. No, no not a noise. A sensation. A… scurrying? In the corners of her mind, the scuttling of tiny little feet. What was that? Her eyebrows pulled together a fraction, with momentous effort. What was that noise? Sounded like… a beetle. A small black beetle, like a scarab. Ah, a scarab beetle. Like David had. Oh yes, David, he was there, she was with… And Will, Will was there. Of course. Will gave David the scarab… she remembered now… of course…

  The pain in her chest began to lessen, and she exhaled deeply, realising only then that her airways were clearing and she could breathe more easily.

  An image of Murf and his metal teeth jumped abruptly into her head, and in the deep recesses of her mind she knew she wanted to throw herself back from the chair and get as far away from Murf as she could, but her bodily functions were still so impaired that she only managed a small twitch of her eyebrow in response.

  Then in a flash the whole sensation passed and she opened her eyes to find Murf’s nose an inch from her own, and his eyes staring directly into hers. He clacked his teeth together once, as if he would bite her, then gave a short laugh and turned away.

  Is that it? she thought, cracking her neck with a sudden pain as she turned to her left to see what had happened to the others. David, closest to her, had a slightly harassed expression on his face as he readjusted the spectacles on his nose and returned her glance.

  Ed it seemed had stumbled to his feet and was looking slightly dishevelled, while Will, furthest from her was leaning back nonchalantly, his chair tipped onto two legs and his feet swinging in rhythm, apparently completely at ease.

  Ten minutes later and they had been marched back to the holding cell, where they tried to work out exactly what had happened to them.

  David it appeared had experienced a most entertaining session with interrogator Bella who had been telling him, what must have been, he felt, wildly exaggerated stories about how she used to have a giant pet owl and she’d ride on it’s back at night across the landscape of Mars, all the way to the top of Olympus Mons and back again.

  While Will’s encounter had been more straightforward with a rattle of questions from the man in the brown coat, who had seemed less than satisfied with his answers, Ed had experienced physical pain. His upper body showed signs of lacerations as though he had been cut or whipped. ‘I didn’t give anything away,’ he said, noticing them staring at the wounds on his skin. ‘Not that there was anything to give away. But she didn’t like that.’ He gave a grin that was more like a grimace. ‘Didn’t take too kindly to being blocked.’

  ‘Blocked?’ Jocasta asked. ‘You mean, you were blocking her… she was in your mind? I mean, that is it, isn’t it? That is what they were doing? Interrogating us with telepathy?’

  Ed nodded. ‘Yep. But I don’t know what they wanted to find out from us. Must think we’re on some kind of sabotage mission…’

  His eyes strayed to Will.

  ‘Well, that wasn’t so bad,’ David interjected, oblivious to the conversation so far.

  Jocasta stared at him in disbelief. ‘Wasn’t so bad? It was, it was… absolutely… horrendous.’ She let out a sigh of frustration as her words failed to elicit a suitable response from David.

  It was Ed who spoke next.

  ‘What’s the plan then Will? I’m hoping you’ve got some ideas, ’cos I’m sure stumped at how we’re going to get out of this mess.’

  It was obvious Will had no master plan and they spent the next few minutes arguing over the best way to approach the seemingly impossible situation.

  It was apparent that they needed to work on a plan either to escape or overpower their captors, but both these seemed highly improbable, and so perhaps they would need to negotiate their release. None of them could think how anything they said might have a positive impact.

  A rattle from the passageway alerted them to another visit. This time it was a welcome one as Bella appeared with some kind of refreshment on a tray.

  ‘Hello, hello, my darlings.’ She smiled invitingly and with her sing song voice she gave the impression that they had been best friends for years. ‘We have some delicious biscuits for you, full of protein and healthy nutrients, and my very own recipe for cool, refreshing water.’

  They devoured their biscuits in just a few minutes; each of them realising how hungry they were, as each mouthful of food dissolved in a delicious, satisfying mass on their tongues, washed down by the welcome relief of cold water. Bella sat cross-legged on the floor next to them and looked on, a benevolent smile emanating from her pretty mouth and sparkling eyes.

  As David caught her gaze another different sensation spread through his abdomen and upwards to his chest. It was not exactly unpleasant, but a little disorientating to say the least. He smiled back, trying to work out why he felt so relaxed in this awkward situation. He knew he should be thinking about how they were going to escape. How could they possibly find a way out of this mess?

  For the first time since they had met seven years before, David felt a kind of antagonism towards Will. Seeing the amount of scrapes Will had led him into over the years, the feeling arrived as something of a surprise. But now David knew that his whole Elite career might be at stake and besides, he didn’t like the way Will was deep in conversation with the beautiful Bella. Beautiful Bella? Where had that thought come from?

  Try as he might to resist it, David’s gaze kept returning to Bella and he allowed himself to take in every detail about her. Her lilac eyes, framed with long lashes that seemed to reach to her eyebrows where dancing lights highlighted her smooth brow. His eyes were distracted by the multicoloured ribbons in her hair and he had a flickering memory of connecting to those lights at his so called interrogation. It had felt so relaxed: he wondered why the others seemed so distraught by theirs.

  He was tempted to remove his glasses to study this girl more closely but thought better of it as Murf entered the room and gr
owled at them all.

  ‘Get a move on you lot, no more fannying around with grub. Time to shift.’

  Bella looked bemused by this sudden interruption to her pleasant tea party but made no comment as Murf proceeded to hustle each of them towards the entrance.

  ‘And no point trying to make a run for it,’ he remarked. ‘We’ve got you right where we want you!’

  Jocasta caught sight of Mex rolling her eyes at this last comment.

  Chapter Seventeen

  This time the room they were taken to was circular, and spacious, with a high, arching roof, and heavy, dusty red drapes that hung straight from the rafters to the bare floor. In the gaps between the curtains rough stonework and metal beams could be glimpsed, the foundations of the way the entire city had been constructed. Though the room’s floor space was not actually that large, it had a sense of importance, a kind of tainted or aged place of majesty and community. Two rows of seats swept around the central space, most of them occupied by the strange looking people, but those that were empty showed thinning upholstery in red and black fabric; tears and rips revealing age-old padding. In the central area, four lecterns stood, each equally spaced apart, giving the twisted impression of a religious community. There was a flat disk of metal in the very centre of the room, which drew the eye, a flat black circle which reflected none of the dull light; stark against the dusty floor.

  The room was dimly lit with makeshift lanterns that swung slightly when the curtains brushed against them. They, like everything else in the city, were old and repaired, the metal framework holding together the scratched glass squares, the light inside occasionally guttering. And high to the right a grey plaque hewn from the rough stone bore an unlikely inscription.

  It was a place that might have been grand and full of splendour, but had been made out of discarded things, by a people who were entirely unwanted themselves.

  It emanated a sense of woe and sadness.

  Murf told them to sit, indicating the four small seats which had been hastily positioned at the right hand side of the room. Then he stood behind them, arms crossed and feet apart, his teeth glinting in the strange light.

  Jocasta’s eyes searched expectantly for the tall figure of Delilah, but couldn’t see her in the seated rows. There was an eerie silence in the room. No one was speaking, it was almost as though they were all meditating with eyes closed or staring blankly ahead.

  With a rush of chill air brushing their faces, a column rose from the central disk in the floor, its dull metal exterior glinting in places where it had been welded and forced into shape. Jocasta watched as it eventually came to a halt, feeling strangely threatened by its overpowering presence, its subtle menace.

  Still no sound could be heard from the assembled group, as quiet footsteps approached on the cold stone floor. From the shadows directly behind the column, a figure appeared. The lamplight glittered on the tightly braided threads that were twisted into Delilah’s hair. There was a disconcerting grate of boot on metal grid as she stepped up to the podium. She turned slowly full circle, taking in all the attendees, including the four prisoners at the edge.

  ‘Rather dramatic,’ Will whispered towards Ed, whose purple eyes had taken on a worried look, his eyebrows knitted together in a tight frown.

  ‘I don’t like this at all.’ He spoke quietly from the side of his mouth. ‘I think we’ve had enough drama for one day.’

  Murf took the opportunity to clip him round the back of his head and issued a warning growl.

  Will turned, a ‘try-that-on-me-and-you’re-dead’ look already forming on his face, then seemed to think better of it, and returned his attention to Delilah, who had begun to speak.

  ‘As you know, we have some… guests, who have joined us today on an unexpected visit. In fact, this is only the second time, in our history, that we have had the pleasure,’ she emphasised the word with a touch of sarcasm, ‘of any outsiders to our gathering. This,’ she moved her arm wide in an arc to take in the whole of the assembled, and looked directly at Will and the three Elite cadets, ‘is where we make our decisions. As a democracy we each have one vote. I, as the leader – until the next Sol year, of course – have the casting vote if agreement cannot be reached.’

  Jocasta wondered why Delilah was explaining this to them, as ‘uninvited guests’ and then it dawned on her that this was where their fate would be decided. Perhaps foolishly, she had thought they would be allowed to leave once their true reason had been revealed, and no threat had been intended. Now she realised how naïve she had been.

  The loop of panic began again.

  Please just let us get out of here alive.

  But her thoughts were pushed to one side as Delilah continued.

  ‘Friends, comrades and uninvited guests we have a dilemma on our hands. Here in this city, our enforced home, we have struggled to survive; while those who have banished us here have thrived and grown stronger. We have lost our freedom. Some have lost their dignity and ultimately their lives.’ Here she indicated the worn seats that remained unoccupied. ‘Our only future is one of meagre hand outs and bleak solitude. Until now we saw no escape. We had nothing to bargain with. But if we take this opportunity that has arisen –through no action of ours– can we remain honourable to our oath?’ Here she indicated the plaque on the wall and raised her voice to proclaim its message. ‘NOBLE AND BRAVE IN LIFE AND IN TRUTH.’

  ‘Noble And Brave,’ echoed the crowd, ‘In Life And in Truth.’

  ‘Nabilat, Nabilat, Nabilat,’ they chanted.

  Delilah raised her arm and there was silence.

  ‘Nabilats,’ she called. ‘Let the session begin!’

  ‘Session.’ Jocasta heard herself speak as if listening to someone else. ‘Seems more like a trial to me.’

  No-one responded.

  One by one they were each led to one of the four lecterns. First Will was pulled roughly to his feet by a burly Nabilat whose dispassionate face betrayed no emotion. Will tried to wrench his arm free, but was held fast, and steered resolutely towards the furthest lectern.

  Ed was next, his head bowed, masking his lilac-purple eyes. Jocasta could tell by his demeanour, as she suspected everyone else could, that he felt demoralised and perhaps, like her, frightened.

  As the Nabilat turned away from Ed, Jocasta rose from her chair and met his gaze defiantly. She strode towards one of the empty lecterns; her head held high, as she tried to ignore the mounting panic that was welling from her stomach and felt as if it were creeping up her throat. No attempt was made to stop her, so she carried on till she reached the lectern’s platform and took the small step up.

  She clutched the edges of the podium, her small show of defiance having robbed her of any strength she had left. She felt weak and shivery, even as she leant on the lectern her hands were shaking and deathly cold.

  David, left till last, obediently took the few steps forward to his allotted space and carefully readjusted his glasses.

  The murmur of voices gradually hushed as Delilah once again began to speak.

  It was difficult at first to fully understand what she was implying, as Jocasta had no idea of the procedures involved. The syllables of her voice had a melodic rise and fall that was unfamiliar to Jocasta, and for a moment she found herself listening to the sound of Delilah’s words rather than their meaning. But then with startling clarity she realised what was being proposed. She and David were to be sent back with a message that Ed and Will were to remain hostage.

  The Nabilats had discovered that Ed was the son of Weisz the Elite officer who had originally banished them to this doomed city. Will was being heralded as a hero for delivering Ed to them. Delilah called for a show of hands for all those who agreed with her proposal. It was almost unanimous.

  Murf and another man were instructed to take Ed away. Head bowed in acceptance he neither looked to his left or right but followed Murf submissively, accompanied by the sound of Nabilats stamping their feet and a few shouts of approval. Joc
asta felt mesmerised, as apparently so did David and Will, as neither of them moved or uttered a sound.

  Jocasta’s heart set up in a rapid staccato, like a panicked bird flailing its wings useless against the bars of its cage. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing shallow; she felt as though her whole world was just slipping out of reach; falling away from under her and there was no way to stop it.

  She gripped the edges of the lectern so hard that she could feel the unrelenting metal biting into her flesh; the knuckles of her hands, already slightly blue with cold, were bone white, and a pounding, crying, swarming of fear and desperation filled her head like a buzzing.

  What could she do? What could she do?

  She could refuse. Make them keep her here instead of Ed or Will. But what would that accomplish?

  She didn’t want to admit it, but there was a small part of her that felt shame in the fact that she was the one being sent back to the Elite.

  What could she do?

  Finally, she found her voice and, despite the nervous tremor, reached down into the recesses of her lungs and shouted as loud as she could.

  ‘No, you can’t! It isn’t right…’ Her voice trailed off as Ed turned to look at her, his purple eyes not filled with the look of bewilderment or fear that she had anticipated, but something far worse, it was a wounded look, as though it had been her fault. As though she had betrayed him.

  Then with a horrible sense of dismay, she understood that of course, she had. She’d been the one who had led him here, introduced Will; allowed him to come.

  New thoughts rushed unbidden into her mind. Was she responsible? Did Will have an ulterior motive? Had they found out something through the interrogation? Was there more to Will’s story than he was letting on?