Damage Control - ARC

by Mary Jeddore Blakney

  "There are several toilets accessible from the common areas," Laitt said. "Is there a problem with them?"

  The Human put his right palm up to his forehead for a moment, then looked Laitt in the eyes. "I think we're having a translation problem. I'm talking about toilets, and every time, you come back to me with something about toilets. It's two different things."

  Laitt nodded. "My translator does not distinguish between the two words," she agreed. "You should choose a Human translator from among the prisoners who can speak to me in standard Aberikekk. I will return in two segments so that you can explain your need."

  "Raht," Elwood began, and the Personal Device took over: "Correct. I'll do that. I'll see you then, Zeed."

  They shook hands, Human style, and Laitt waited until the door had locked behind Elwood before taking another door into the hallway.

  This issue with toilets is probably just a translation glitch, Laitt thought. But I'll continue to watch it closely. She'd been warned in countless training sessions about odd prisoner requests that turned out to be part of a sabotage or escape plan. Perhaps the Humans were hoping to access the sewage recycling system. More likely, the incessant requests for more toilets were designed to be a distraction.

  But it wasn't the toilet issue that made Laitt's abdomen feel as tense and twisted as it had after that time she'd let her friend convince her to try ice cream. What worried her was the persistent thought—now very close to becoming a conviction—that her prison was no different from any other POW facility. There was nothing special about this one. It was no better than any other prison on any other keev-ship in any other war. In other words, Laitt was a professional failure. Maybe there was still a chance, still some way she could stand out from the crowd. Even this toilet problem could turn out to be her opportunity.

  At the moment, though, she had a more immediate responsibility: the solitary prisoner.

  As if she didn't have enough to worry about with a whole prison full of Aberikekk spies, the keev had considered it necessary to order that this one prisoner have no contact with others of her kind. Laitt wondered if he had considered the fact that she and her staff were now required to fulfill all the prisoner's needs themselves. Probably not. It probably had never even occurred to Chegg that Humans had any needs at all, besides food, air and hygiene facilities (an abundance of hygiene facilities, apparently).

  Chegg was an interrogator, and while interrogators were experts at zenopsychology, they studied a different side of it than Laitt did. Interrogators learned the out-going side of psychology. They knew how to figure out the state of a prisoner's mind by reading what came out of it. Laitt had learned the in-going side. She and her staff were experts at keeping a prisoner's mind from spiraling into insanity by controlling what went into it. And that, Laitt knew, required a lot more work than most people realized.

  At least Chegg stands out from the crowd, Laitt thought as she opened the door to the solitary prisoner's quarters. He may be making a lot of work for me, but at least he's not doing what all the other keevs are doing.

  She found the prisoner kneeling at her desk, leaning closely over a tablet and writing on it with an Aberikekk eating utensil.

  Laitt resisted the temptation, this time, to pet her soft animal head. She had always had a weakness for fuzzy-headed animals, ever since she'd met her first hippotruncatis on a school trip to an air city.

  The Human rose and grasped Laitt's arm. "Zeed."

  "Jade."

  "I, um... Would you like some coffee?"

  "No, thank you," said Laitt, trying as always to imitate the gentle near-monotone of native Aberikekk speech. "Why are you writing with a fork?"

  "I didn't know what else to use. I wanted to use a pen that the ink had run out of, but nobody had one."

  "What is ink?"

  "Ink?" the human replied, the hair where her eyebrows should have been rising in unison with her voice. "It's, um, a colored liquid that comes out of the end of a pen, so you can write on paper. Our paper isn't like your tablets. It only has one layer and it's not as thick. So if you try to scratch it, it will probably just rip. We write by putting ink on the paper."

  "How long does a pen run before it has no ink?"

  "Oh, I don't know. A hundred pages, maybe? Twenty? I've never measured it. And it depends on how small you write, too."

  "I think I know where to find a pen that has run beyond its ink," said Laitt. "I will try to get it today."

  "That would be great, thanks. It's kind of hard to write with a fork."

  Laitt had never provided, directly, for a Human's sexual needs before, and wasn't sure how to proceed. She decided to start by talking. "Is it hard to be without other Humans?"

  Jade bowed her head and seemed to be staring at her feet. "My family doesn't even know if I'm alive or dead."

  "I cannot help you communicate with them," Laitt said as gently as she could manage. "But perhaps I can help fix your other needs."

  "What, like a dry pen?"

  "I will look for a dry pen later today, when I leave you," Laitt said. "Now, since your friends are not here, perhaps I can substitute for them."

  "Oh, that's very nice of you," the Human said, but she didn't smile.

  "What do you enjoy most to do when you are with a friend?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Skiing, going to a baseball game, going to the beach."

  The only part of that, that Laitt understood, was the part about going. She hoped they were activities that could be done in Jade's quarters, or at least in a secure part of the keev-ship. "Which one is your favorite?"

  The Human thought for a moment before answering. "I can't pick," she said at last. "I just like them all. It depends on the time of year."

  "What do you do at this time of year?"

  "Stack firewood, usually."

  "You enjoy this?"

  Jade laughed, just a little. "No, but I have a friend who loves it. So we stack hers, and then we stack mine. It's not so bad doing it together, and it goes faster."

  This task was proving more difficult than Laitt had anticipated. She tried a new angle. "What do you like to do with your husband?"

  "Oh, I'm not married. You're married, right?"

  "Yes, our anti-fertilization failed."

  "Anti-fertilization," Jade repeated. "Oh, you must mean birth control. Do you have a child?"

  "Yes. I told you I am married."

  "Married means you have a husband—or a wife, maybe. It doesn't mean you have a child."

  "How can I have a husband unless I have an egg first?"

  "In my culture, we usually get married first and then have children."

  "I understand. This is because you incubate your eggs inside your bodies."

  "I don't think that has anything to do with it. We just get married, and then we decide if we want to have children."

  "I don't understand. How is it possible to be married if there is no child?"

  "Because it's two different things. Marriage is when you love each other and make the commitment to live your life together. Having a child is, well, having a child."

  "I think that we have nothing like a Human marriage," Laitt said. "For us, when there is an egg, the father and mother live together to raise the child. That is all."

  "Are you saying that on your planet, nobody gets married?"

  "No, many people get married. Almost everyone get marrieds when the wife lays an egg."

  "Oh, so you lay an egg, and then you move in together, and then you get married?"

  "I don't know what is get married for your people. For my people, to have an egg and raise it together is to get married."

  "What about love, though?" Jade asked.

  "Love is very important. I think that on all the planets, always love is very important."

  Laitt had run out of time to help Jade with her sexual needs, for now. She had her appointment with Colonel Elwood Rocco, and would have to help Jade later.

  The colonel entered the conferenc
e room with a young man in a tan uniform.

  He didn't waste any time. "We have plenty of toilets," he said. "We are requesting chairs."

  "What is the difference between toilets and chairs?" Laitt asked.

  "A toilet deals with bodily waste in a sanitary manner," the young man translated, "whereas a chair is just a piece of furniture for shitting in." The translator seemed to have a slight speech impediment, or possibly a regional accent.

  "I hear you saying one message two times," Laitt explained. "I do not understand the difference between a thing for bodily waste and a thing for shitting."

  Elwood's lips twitched, and the translator laughed outright. "Not shitting. Sitting."

  "Sitting," Laitt repeated, "is different from shitting?"

  This time they both laughed. Elwood spoke and the young man translated, "Yes, very different. Shitting refers to the elimination of waste. That's what toilets are for. Sitting is a position of relaxation. It is done with the clothes on and does not involve bodily waste in any way."

  "Sitting is the same as reclining, perhaps," Laitt said. "You want more couches."

  "The couches are a total other issue," Elwood replied through his translator. "We are asking for chairs."

  "Perhaps you can help me know what is a chair by making a picture on your paper."

  "Certainly." Elwood drew a series of sketches illustrating a mock toilet with no hole and no sewage connection, complete with a figure in the position of defecation.

  Laitt growled and made no effort to soften her tone. Her words were simple, but she spoke them with all the force of her native tongue: "I refuse your request!"

  Both Humans froze in unison and stared at her, their bodies rigid. After a moment, the colonel said, "Yes, ma'am."

  "You are dismissed," Laitt said quietly.

  The prisoners hurried to the door and left the room.

  At the beginning of her next shift, Laitt went back to Jade's quarters to try again. The prisoner was sleeping, so she left the dry pen on the desk and lay down beside her.

  “Techi zo!” said Laitt in Chuzekk, and the room lit up.

  “Laitt?” Jade hid her eyes from the light and protested by assuming an offensive position.

  Maybe that was what the Humans in the prison were up to. It's a protest, Laitt thought. They want to be so offensive we'll send them back home. But why would Elwood think I would cooperate?

  The hair on one side of Jade's head had somehow grown to three times its normal size.

  “Yes," Laitt said. "Do you like the Chuzekk bed?”

  “Yeah,” she answered, then a moment later changed her answer to the more understandable “Yes. Very comfortable. You sink down in and it surrounds you, but it still supports your back.”

  “The top layer is soft and the next layer is harder,” Leitt agreed.

  Jade removed her hands from her eyes and looked down at Leitt. “How long have you been here?”

  “A short time,” Leitt replied. “I have not yet studied how Earth measures time. Did I insult you?”

  “Insult me? No.”

  “Then you should not insult me,” said Leitt. “You may lie down.”

  Jade lay down again.

  Leitt touched Jade’s hair. “Do you like me?” she asked, looking her in the eyes.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Perhaps you are not familiar with Chuzekk women.”

  “I’m…not really familiar with Chuzekks at all,” said Jade, “men or women.”

  “Did you meet any Chuzekk woman, except me?”

  “Yes,” Jade replied, “I’ve met Koll.”

  “Koll?” Leitt repeated. “But Koll is an air woman.”

  “What is an air woman?” asked Jade.

  “Air women are different,” she answered. “Air women live in the air.”

  “Live in the air?” said Jade.

  “Yes.”

  “Is that bad, living in the air?”

  “No, it’s not bad. My husband is an air man.”

  “I have a cousin who was an airman,” said Jade. “How does she stay up there?”

  “I do not understand the question,” said Leitt.

  “How does Koll stay up in the air?”

  This was an odd question. “She uses her legs, I think.”

  “She can fly with her legs?” Jade asked.

  “No,” Leitt answered. “She cannot fly. She stands with her legs, as you and I do.”

  “Stands on what?”

  “She stands on the ground, or on the floor.”

  “Didn’t you say she lives in the air?”

  “Yes,” said Leitt, and then she smiled. “I think I know why you do not understand. Koll does not live high in the air where ships fly. She lives in the air as you live in the air. I live in the water.”

  “Really, you live in the water?” Jade said. “Your house, your town, are under water?”

  “No,” Leitt replied. “They are not under the water, they are in it. We cannot live in the dirt. We require oxygen.”

  Jade groaned. “Right, of course,” she said. “What’s it like, living in the water?”

  Leitt considered a moment. “Water people paint ourselves.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Leitt replied. "Why do you make holes in your ears?"

  Jade laughed. "Okay, I get it. I think it's time for coffee." She pushed herself up on one arm.

  Clearly, subtlety wasn't working, and this visit was turning out to be as fruitless as the last one. Laitt shifted her position so that her body hovered over the small human one and ran the backs of her fingers from its hip to its ribcage.

  Jade screamed, dove from the bed and stood glaring at Laitt and shaking.

  Laitt walked to the door and let herself out.

  12

  the second session

  Heart pounding, Jade reached for the keev's right bicep. The Chuzekk arm grasp was supposed to be a firm hold on the upper arm, but her hand was so small compared to his arm that all she could manage was a sort of pinch.

  Her own arm in his hand reminded Jade of a spoon handle. It would have been so easy for him to accidentally snap her humerus, but she knew he wouldn't. He was too calculating, too exact, to make a sloppy mistake like that. If he hurt her, it would be on purpose and without mercy.

  She shivered. “Keev,” she said.

  “Jade,” he replied, looking her in the eye without smiling, and let go. He turned to the coffee bar and poured a cup. “Coffee?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.” He had his back to her and it gave her an odd sense of paradox: out of context, the scene would have appeared casual, even tranquil. There was nothing in his manner right now to indicate that they were enemies and she was a prisoner on his ship. She wondered idly what he would have done if she hadn't been so respectful. She wasn't about to find out.

  He poured her coffee and put in three big spoonfuls of sugar and some cream, just like last time, and stirred it. Then he walked to the desk and put his own mug down in front of the station he had used last time―third from the left-hand end. Then he placed her mug in front of the second station. “You will kneel here.”

  She did, and immediately felt an almost overwhelming sense of being trapped. He hadn't specified whether or not she was still under orders to stay in the station, but she wasn't going to risk his claws by standing up. Of course she could ask him if the order was still in effect, but that would be essentially no different from asking for permission to stand.

  And probably he was going to touch her again. She hated that cold hand on her back. Maybe he did do it, as he had explained, just so he could keep his job skills sharp. But to her it felt like an unspoken reminder of her vulnerability and lack of privacy―of his ability to read her body's responses at will and use them against her, and maybe even against her country.

  Chegg placed the disk on her cheek.

  "Why the coffee?" asked Jade, tired of fighting.

  For several seconds the keev j
ust knelt and seemed to be studying her face. Then he said, "I don't understand the question."

  "Why do you give me coffee? Why do you make it the way I like it? Why does it matter to you how I like my coffee, anyway?"

  The Chuzekk shrugged. "I like coffee, and I like it better if I share it. I make it the way you like it because to do otherwise would be impolite."

  "Impolite," Jade repeated. She shook her head and sipped her coffee.

  "Do you want more children?" he asked quietly.

  "Pardon?"

  "Do you want more children?"

  "That's kind of a personal question, isn't it?"

  "No."

  "What do you mean, 'No'?"

  "I disagree with your assessment that the question is not personal."

  "I didn't—oh, nevermind."

  "I have observed that Humans often say the opposite of what they mean. Do you like broccoli?"

  "Broccoli?" she repeated, surprised, and it came out much louder than she'd meant it to. "What does broccoli have to do with it?"

  "What does broccoli have to do with what?" the keev asked with exasperating calmness.

  "I thought this was supposed to be an interrogation."

  "It is an interrogation." His fierce reptilian-looking face was expressionless, but Jade thought she saw a glint in his eyes. Apparently, he found her frustration entertaining.

  She sighed. It was his game and she wasn't going to win it. "Sorry." she said. "I just don't understand how knowing whether or not I like broccoli can help you win the war."

  "We have learned many useful facts by knowing our prisoners well," the interrogator explained. "So it is an interrogator's job to explore a prisoner's mind."

  A confusing mix of admiration and hatred came over Jade.

  "Do you like sushi?" Chegg asked.