“So do we,” Director Melbourne said.
The policeman stiffened, just for a moment. Joel rather suspected he understood. No self-respecting policeman could accept an unspoken truce, not on his territory. Either the police were in control or they weren't. There was no middle ground.
“The Stewards will continue to police our community,” Konrad added. “And all further contacts between our people and yours will be discouraged.”
“Good,” Director Melbourne said. “Hopefully, it will calm matters down before it is too late.”
She paused, implicitly dismissing the whole affair. “However, there are a number of other issues,” she added. “Your people require medical assistance. You have a number of long-term problems.”
Konrad leaned forward. “We also need to move out of the spaceport,” he said. “The crush is growing unbearable.”
Joel made a face. Konrad was right. They were cramming more and more people into tents and hotel rooms, while the washing facilities were poor and the toilets unspeakable. The spaceport simply hadn't been designed to host so many unwanted guests, certainly not for very long. Problems were appearing all over the complex. And the aid workers, who had been striving to cope with the problems, had been withdrawn.
“Your people will be allowed to leave for short periods,” Director Melbourne assured him, “once they have passed the second set of blood-screenings. But ...”
Konrad coughed, loudly. “The second set?”
“Yes,” Director Melbourne said. “As I noted, many of you have significant long-term health problems. They will have to be countered.”
Joel thought fast. Konrad looked bemused. They’d considered a number of scenarios, but none of them had included medical issues. It hadn't been a problem on Tarsus. The government might have forced the children into schools, yet it hadn't bothered to provide any kind of medical attention. And besides, the Forsakers had their own doctors.
“It is something that will have to be considered at a later date,” Konrad said, finally. “And I will have to discuss it with my fellow Elders.”
“As you wish,” Director Melbourne said. She didn't seem pleased or displeased. “But no one will be allowed out of the spaceport - or wherever you end up - without passing the blood screenings and, if necessary, agreeing to a course of treatment.”
Joel frowned, thoughtfully. What sort of treatment? Mending a broken bone was one thing, splicing genetic modifications into the human genome was quite another. The different Forsaker sects had never been too clear on where the line was drawn between permissible treatments and forbidden medical procedures. The Elders would probably spend days debating the issue before they requested clarification. And then? Who knew?
“We understand,” Konrad said.
“Very good,” Director Melbourne said.
“We require the immediate return of the aid workers,” Joel stated. “The campsite will eventually collapse into squalor without their work.”
“You could do it yourselves,” the policeman said. It was the first thing he’d said. “Our people will not be cleaning your toilets indefinitely.”
Joel shrugged, keeping his expression under tight control as Director Melbourne shot the policeman a sharp look. She’d definitely wanted to end the crisis as quickly as possible. Joel had prepared a long explanation about how men wouldn't clean toilets and women couldn’t - there were too many strangers about - but it didn't seem to be necessary.
“They will be returning tomorrow morning,” Director Melbourne said, finally. “It is our hope that we can start moving you out soon.”
Konrad nodded. “But to where?”
“That has not yet been decided,” Director Melbourne said.
“Our people are getting impatient,” Joel warned. “Even on Tarsus we were allowed to walk around.”
“We understand,” Director Melbourne said.
She rose. “And thank you for coming.”
“No,” Joel said. “Thank you.”
***
Judith sat in the chair, staring up at the blank ceiling.
In all honesty, she was starting to wonder if she’d been forgotten. No one had brought her food or drink, no one had come to check on her ... she’d lost her personal com, but the steadily darkening sky outside proved that hours had passed since the door had been locked, trapping her. She’d never really understood why prisoners normally preferred to serve on work gangs rather than enter the sole prison on Arthur’s Seat, yet she thought she understood it now. She was trapped, unable to leave or entertain herself. Her world had shrunk to four walls, a desk and a comfortable chair.
Perhaps she hopes I’ll starve to death, Judith thought, sourly. Did the police know where she was? Did anyone? Director Melbourne could easily have told them some cock-and-bull story about sending Judith back to town. And then she’d just have to dispose of the body.
She was half-asleep, her body craving water, when she heard the key turning in the lock. Her eyes felt heavy, but she managed to force herself to sit upright as the door opened and Director Melbourne stepped into the room. The older woman looked tired, dark marks clearly visible under her eyes. Judith would have been more concerned if she hadn't spent the last few hours trapped in a confined space.
“Director,” she said, stiffly.
Director Melbourne studied her for a long moment. Judith looked back, silently weighing up her chances. If she lunged ... but she was in no state for a fight. She was weak, utterly dehydrated ... even if she broke past the older woman, where would she go? The police were probably downstairs, patrolling the building. God alone knew what Director Melbourne had told them.
“Miss Parkston,” Director Melbourne said. “Do you have any idea just how much trouble you caused?”
Judith blinked in surprise. “I caused?”
“This is a very delicate situation,” Director Melbourne said. “You shouldn't have talked to that girl. Or anyone ...”
“Oh,” Judith said. She was too tired and thirsty to argue. “I need something to drink.”
“You are not to talk to any Forsakers, outside the bare necessities,” Director Melbourne added. Her voice was very cold. “And you are not to talk about your experiences.”
Judith forced herself to stand. “They beat that poor girl,” she said, despite her dry mouth. It was harder to speak than she’d realised. “They grabbed me and attempted to kidnap me ... who knows what they would have done to me? And you’re saying I’m the bad girl?”
“This is a very delicate situation,” Director Melbourne said, again. “Cultural misunderstandings could have the most unpleasant effects.”
“Cultural misunderstandings,” Judith repeated.
“Correct,” Director Melbourne said. “Young girls are not expected to talk to Outsiders.”
Judith stared at her, unsure she’d heard correctly. “Director?”
“I am aware that many people will find it hard to accept,” Director Melbourne continued, smoothly. “But right now, we cannot afford an explosion.”
She met Judith’s eyes. “You are not to repeat your mistake. Do you understand me?”
“I understand,” Judith said. She might understand, but she wasn't going to agree. “Can I get something to drink now?”
“You may,” Director Melbourne said, grandly.
She paused. “I’ve taken the liberty of approving you for two days leave,” she added. “I advise you to relax, forget everything and then return to duty.”
Judith swallowed, hard. Two days leave? Was that all her life was worth?
She doesn't want me near the others, Judith thought, numbly. She had no doubt that rumours were already spreading. But the truth would be far worse. She wants to give them a chance to forget about it before I return.
“A taxi is already waiting for you,” Director Melbourne added. “You’ll be back in the city in thirty minutes.”
“I need to get something to drink,” Judith said. “And eat ...”
“There’s a vending machine downstairs,” Director Melbourne told her. “And one other thing?”
Judith lifted her eyebrows, suddenly feeling very unsteady. “What?”
“This is a very delicate situation,” Director Melbourne warned. It was the third time she’d said that, Judith was sure. Or was it the fourth? It wasn't easy to think straight. “It would be strongly advisable for you to do nothing that might throw fuel on the fire.”
It was a threat, Judith thought, as Director Melbourne escorted her down the stairs. But it was a curiously weak threat. Her father had never spoken to her like that. Nor had any of her teachers. They’d always told her what not to do, rather than dancing around the issue. There was something weak about Director Melbourne’s words, as if she wanted to threaten Judith, but didn't quite dare.
Sort it out later, Judith told herself, as she purchased a bottle of water and a ration bar from the vending machine. When you’re in a better frame of mind.
“I’ll see you in two days,” Director Melbourne said, once they were outside the building. A taxi was already there, as the director had promised. “Have a nice rest.”
Judith bit her tongue to keep from saying something sharp, something that would probably get her in real trouble. Director Melbourne had claimed emergency powers, after all. And yet ... she hadn't threatened Judith openly, leaving no room for interpretation. It suggested ... what?
“Thank you,” she said, instead. “I’ll try.”
She climbed into the taxi, gave the driver her address and leaned back in the chair as the vehicle rumbled to life. She'd get back to her apartment, meet Gayle - her girlfriend hadn't seen her for a week - and then ...
Take legal advice, she thought. A light flickered overhead as yet another shuttle came in to land. And then decide what to do next.
***
Mike was tired, utterly exhausted, by the time his shift finally came to an end. Saving the girl was one thing, but patrolling the outer edge of the spaceport as darkness fell was quite another. There were groups of young men roaming the other side of the wire, hooting and hollering every time they saw a policeman. Mike had a suspicion - and he knew most of the other officers shared it - that there would be a breakout as soon as the entire spaceport was cloaked in shadow. The police didn't have night-vision gear, let alone enough spotlights to make a difference. And cutting the wire wouldn't be hard at all.
They won’t need tools to get through, he thought. He didn't know if the Forsakers had any tools, but it hardly mattered. There’s enough of them to push down the fence if they try.
He briefed the reinforcements quickly, then hurried back towards the makeshift barracks. It was irritating to have to sleep in a barracks - he hadn't done that since basic training - but there was no choice. His superiors wanted to have extra manpower close by, just in case the shit hit the fan. Mike rather suspected that nothing short of the entire planetary police force would make a difference - if that - but there was no point in questioning the decision. It had probably been political ...
A man - no, two men - were waiting outside the makeshift barracks. Mike recognised one of them as Lieutenant Owen Wilson, Captain Stewart’s second; the other, wearing an unmarked uniform, was unfamiliar. He had the faint air of smugness that came from working behind a desk, although almost every officer in the police force was expected to spend at least two days per week on the streets. Mike couldn't help feeling that his presence didn't bode well.
“Constable,” Wilson said. “If you’ll please come with us ...?”
It wasn't a request, Mike knew. Cursing under his breath - he was too tired to do anything, but sleep - he followed the two men around the barracks and into an office that had probably once belonged to a warehouse manager. It was utterly bland, the only sign of individuality a faded pornographic calendar from two years ago. Mike suspected, as Wilson nodded for him to sit down, that the office had been abandoned years ago. Someone had given it a good clean, but there was still plenty of dust in the air.
“Constable,” Wilson said, grimly. He sounded deeply worried. Mike knew that was a bad sign. Wilson was generally respected throughout the police force. “This is Commander Edwin Coombs, Police Complaints Authority.”
Mike blinked, feeling a chill running down his spine. Every decent officer feared the PCA, even though most of its investigators were former policemen. He couldn't recall ever meeting one of their officers, but he’d heard horror stories ... the police were supposed to believe a man was innocent until proven guilty, yet all the rumours insisted that the PCA believed that suspects were guilty until proven innocent.
“Constable Whitehead,” Coombs said. He had a smug, self-satisfied voice to match his appearance. “It is my duty to inform you that a number of complaints have been made, concerning your recent conduct. While you are not under arrest, I must inform you that you will be required to conduct yourself in a certain manner until the charges against you are either proven or dismissed. In particular ...”
Mike barely heard the rest of the speech. His head was spinning. A PCA investigation would look very bad on his file, even if all charges were dismissed. The promotions board would wonder why the charges had been raised in the first place. He might be cleared, only to have the whole affair still casting a shadow over his life.
“You do not have the right to remain silent,” Coombs concluded. “Failure to answer any of our questions will be held against you.”
He paused. “Do you understand me?”
Mike hastily replayed the conversation in his head. “I understand,” he said. What charges had been brought and why? He hadn't done anything that deserved investigation. Or had he missed something in the rush to prepare the spaceport? “May I call my wife?”
“You can call her when we’re back in town,” Coombs said. He rose. “Do not attempt to speak to anyone until we reach the station. It will be held against you.”
He strode out the door. Mike glanced at Wilson - the older man looked ashamed - and then turned to follow Coombs. Mike hadn't looked up PCA procedures since basic training, but he thought he had a right to be informed of the charges against him. And yet, that might not be true when the PCA was involved. Policemen knew all the tricks for evading questions ...
Damn it, he thought, numbly. He passed a pair of policemen, but he didn't even dare nod in response to their greetings. What happened?
Chapter Eighteen
Often, all too often, they were rounded up and transported to other worlds, then simply dumped there. No provisions were made for their care and feeding, let alone teaching them how to survive. If they weren't fed by the locals, they often starved.
- Professor Leo Caesius. Ethnic Streaming and the End of Empire.
“That was a very good morning,” Gayle said, as she stepped back into the room carrying a large tray. “I’m very glad you’re back.”
Judith smiled. Gayle - naked Gayle - was as far as it was possible to get from the horrors of the refugee camp. She couldn't help feeling as though she’d stepped into another world. And yet, her body refused to forget what had happened ... had it really been only yesterday? Her mind refused to quite believe it.
“Me too,” she said, softly. She sat upright, allowing the cover to fall down to expose her breasts. “Did you miss me?”
“It hasn't been the same,” Gayle said. She passed Judith the tray, then sat on the bed and leaned forward for a kiss. “Why do you think I made you breakfast?”
She sobered as she took one of the plates for herself. “Prices are going up,” she added, quietly. “I was lucky to get the eggs.”
Judith frowned. Scrambled eggs with toast and fragments of charred bacon ... it was a very simple breakfast. She’d eaten more, back when she’d been on the farm, but she’d also worked her ass off every day. And yet, prices were going up? The planet was practically drowning in eggs.
She took a bite, puzzled. “Why?”
“People are suddenly buying more food,” Gayle said, grimly.
“Half the shops in the district were cleaned out by the time I went shopping. Demand just skyrocketed.”
She met Judith’s eyes. “And your father called,” she added. “He said ... Judith? What’s wrong?”
Judith could barely move. Just for a second, she’d thought she’d seen Hannah’s features on top of Gayle’s. The two girls didn't look that different, but Hannah was thin and drawn while Gayle was in very good health. Her creamy skin was unmarked. Judith remembered the bruise on Hannah’s face and shuddered, helplessly. Her fingers shook so badly she almost dropped the tray.
“Judith,” Gayle said. She sounded alarmed. “What’s happening?”
“There was a girl,” Judith said. It was so hard to think clearly all of a sudden. Gayle’s voice sounded as though she was very far away. “She was ... she was being abused.”
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