Morgan allowed herself a laugh, tossing off the bracelet, pausing to pull out the broken tool she’d used on it. Looking it over for a moment Morgan tucked it into the top part of her cast. It was a good memento, and would leave fewer clues for them to figure out how she got out.
“Well done,” Emily said, slipping the key back into its hiding place. “We’d best be going.”
Gertrude assisted Morgan hop off of the bed, then helped her stay steady as a wave of dizziness hit her.
“Given how pale you are, you’re probably still suffering from blood loss. I suppose they didn’t want to give you a larger transfusion than absolutely necessary. I can’t say that I really blame them for that. Supplies are tight in a place like this.” Despite her words Emily was frowning slightly. “Though not feeding you is another matter.”
Gertrude enveloped Morgan in a hug, forcing a small squeak from Morgan as the larger woman’s arms tightened around her.
“You’re certainly a worrying one to have as a friend,” she said with a broad smile.
They must have looked an odd sight walking through the corridors, Emily in her severe militaristic dress, Gertrude in her casual blouse and skirt, and Morgan, well, Morgan was barefoot with one hand on Gertrude’s arm for support, her cast-clad arm holding the hospital gown closed in the back.
“How are we going to get past whoever is watching the doors?” Morgan asked, unable to hold off asking that rather pressing question.
“Walk out like we own the place. Lady Novan can pull that much off in her sleep. The air car is waiting for us right outside. We’ll be away before they can do more than complain.”
“Besides,” Emily added, “By the time we get there, Doctor Emar should have called much of the security to your room.
There were actually several patients seated near the exit to the building, talking with what Morgan assumed was friends and family. They had robes on over their gowns, and slippers on their feet, but weren’t otherwise noticeably different than she was.
There was still a call from the front desk as they approached the doors.
“Ma’am? You need to sign out before you can leave.”
Gertrude kept on walking with Morgan while Emily turned back to the desk.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how you do things here,” she said, suddenly having a much thicker accent, her vowels elongated and the ends of words slightly cut off.
“They need to be. . .” the man at the desk was saying as Morgan and Gertrude walked out the automated doors, his words cut off.
As promised, there was black air car waiting right there, a couple other vehicles behind it with rather cross looking drivers.
There was a man standing next to the door, dressed like Boris had been, only with an added long black coat, who opened it for the two of them, offering a hand to help Morgan step into the car. Once they were inside the quite roomy vehicle he shrugged his coat off and offered it to Gertrude without a word.
“Thank you,” Morgan said as Gertrude helped her slip it on. He bowed and closed the door, entering the vehicle in the front next to the driver. As soon as his door was closed the vehicle started moving, quickly climbing into the air. Amazing what you could do with antigravity tech with only .89g to deal with. Seeing the sky and sun for the first time since she’d been attacked Morgan realized it was evening again, nearly a full day later.
“We’re not waiting for Emily and Boris?” Morgan asked Gertrude quietly.
“There is another car waiting for them. They can’t do anything to her, and this gets you out of their reach quickest.”
Opening a small hatch in-between the seats Gertrude pulled out a bottle of water and what looked to be some food wrapped in foil. “You should eat.”
Nodding Morgan started eating. After six or seven bites she paused to wonder if it really was that bland, or if she was so hungry and tired that she simply wasn’t noticing the flavor. In either case it wasn’t long before she started eating slower, leaning back farther into the very comfortable chair.
She was asleep before she even thought to ask where they were taking her.
CHAPTER 11
One of the most difficult lessons of adulthood is learning the difference between relying on others and living like a parasite, and leaning on others for mutual benefit. Like so many things there isn’t a fine line dividing them, but a nebula of uncertainty.
- Second Minister Jaron, Nerrul System
MORGAN WAS GETTING REALLY TIRED of waking up in strange places.
The pale purple paint on the walls was the same shade she’d seen at Gertrude’s, so she was probably there, but this was a room she hadn’t seen before.
She was lying on a very large bed, too soft for her tastes but comfortable nonetheless.
Gertrude’s room, perhaps? There was something that looked like a desk along one wall, full of drawers and a large mirror. There were pictures tucked into the border of the mirror, from her somewhat distant vantage on the bed many of them looked to be pictures of Haruhi, so it was likely.
On the desk there was a holodisplay with the time displayed. Six in the morning on the fifth. Well, at least the fourth was over, splendid day that it had been.
Pulling back the covers, Morgan noted she was still in the comical combination of hospital gown and the long coat the car man had lent her. Her arm was a tad itchy under the cast, but it would still be a few days before she could take that off. That was assuming whatever they used here wasn’t more effective than the Quicknit she’d used in the past.
There were two doors on the wall past the foot of the bed. The left one was closed, but Morgan could see a bathroom through the open door to the right, reminding her of some pressing needs. As she hopped off the bed – feeling much steadier on her feet than she had before – she noticed a small pile of clothes on a fabric-padded chest pushed back against the wall between the two doors.
These weren’t just any clothes either, but her clothes, her somewhat faded yellow dress on top. They’d been to her apartment? How had. . . oh, of course, Boris had retrieved her identification. That was all they’d need to get in, since Gertrude knew where it was. Morgan wasn’t quite sure if she found it touching or an invasion of her privacy, but after a moment decided she wasn’t going to worry about it, grabbing the dress and underwear from the pile. There was something else on the pile, causing her to pause before she headed into the bathroom.
It was a somewhat battered uplink unit, noticeably more rugged and durable than the ones commonly seen around Isa. Underneath was something even more unusual, a handwritten note.
“Not to be presumptuous,” – Morgan wasn’t sure what that word meant, but she continued reading – “but I noted you do not own an uplink. This is one of my old units from my active military days, one I only kept because it was less of a hassle to keep than to dispose of it. I’ll hear no objections, I insist on this small act of gratitude, especially since the act doesn’t inconvenience me in the slightest.”
It certainly did look quite used, but slipping it on Morgan found it started up quite easily, confirming her identity before locking in her biometric information and locking to her possession. Morgan was tempted to check it out further, but she had headed towards the bathroom with some urgency, so she let it be for the moment.
Getting cleaned up and dressed took somewhat longer than normal, thanks to the awkward cast getting in the way, but it was still only seven when Morgan left the room, finding herself in the now familiar halls of Gertrude’s home. The house was quiet, with neither Gertrude nor Haruhi visible or audible.
The kitchen looked quite different from Morgan’s previous visit, a feat accomplished by the simple fact it was clean. Since it was also empty, Morgan moved on and headed towards the front of the house.
Through the small windows in the front door Morgan could see the back of someone, a man, dressed enough like Boris and the man at the car that she assumed he was another employee of Emily’s. The only obvious explanation
for him standing there was he was guarding the building, but that didn’t make much sense either.
She finally found Gertrude, asleep on the very couch Morgan had spent a night on. Morgan didn’t disturb her, instead wending her way back to the dining room and walking out to the patio. The tables and chairs from the breakfast gathering had been cleared away, and the patio was much more open. There were a few chairs scattered about, but long low ones designed for stretching out your legs. Morgan plopped down on one of the padded ones. She was still quite tired, so she dozed fitfully to the sounds of nearby birds chirping.
***
It might have been the sound of voices that woke her back up, or perhaps it was the smell of bacon. Either way she awoke to find the remaining table on the patio had been set with breakfast, three chairs set around it. Gertrude was putting down a plate of bacon next to the eggs and fruit.
It was, of course, nowhere near as large an affair as the last breakfast the space had seen, but Morgan’s stomach growled appreciatively nonetheless.
“Ah, good, you’re awake again. Just in time to eat,” Gertrude said cheerily. “I have to say, that dress looks good. I almost didn’t recognize you without a pair of coveralls on.”
Morgan shrugged after she stood up.
“I have to have coveralls for school. Can’t really afford to have two sets of clothes. Besides, I’m used to them. It’s what I wore back home.”
“Yes, I imagine mining encourages clothing that covers as much of the body as possible,” Emily said from behind Morgan. Turning Morgan saw her exiting the dining room door, carrying a pitcher of juice. “There is much to talk about, but let us eat first.”
The meal was good if. . . awkward. Morgan didn’t know what to say to the other women, and they seemed content to eat in silence. Morgan finished first despite having eaten more than her companions, her hunger outweighing the need to savor the food.
Morgan waited until they finished before starting in on her manifold questions.
“How did you find me? For that matter how did you even know to look?”
“It wasn’t that hard, never mind what we said to the doctor,” Gertrude started, “Once we knew you’d been attacked, the hospitals were the obvious places to look. It would have been quicker if they hadn’t assumed your ID was a fake.”
“As for how we knew to look,” Emily continued, “That was honestly partially a matter of luck. After our. . . disagreement the other morning I wished to speak with you again, to try and explain better what I was trying to say, as well as apologize for upsetting you. From Gertrude, I learned that you work at the school, and are there often studying. I am normally up quite early, so I went to see if I could talk with you, or at least arrange a time to speak when you weren’t working. Your supervisor told me you had not come to work that day, and that such was unheard of for you. He gave me the name of your other employer, who obviously had also not heard from you. From there I got your address from Gertrude and called on you there.”
“And I wasn’t there either.” Morgan supplied, wondering slightly if Emily was always this long-winded.
“Quite. I drew some unwanted attention myself in your neighborhood, which was fortunate in the end as it gave me people to inquire with. They were quite easy to bribe, which is how I learned of a girl matching your description – or rather, matching the description of your clothes at any rate – being attacked and carted off to the hospital.”
“We tried calling around first,” Gertrude interjected, “but we ran into problems because we didn’t know anything more to tell them than your name was Morgan.”
“I called on some friends at this point to look up some information on you to help us, including your refugee records. The rest you know.”
“Not quite the rest, what is going to happen with me and the hospital? The police? I don’t even know if I still have a job at this point.”
“The hospital has been dealt with. The details don’t matter,” Emily stated.
Morgan rather disagreed on that point, but those inquiries would have to wait.
“And I got your bosses’ info from Lady Novan. I told them you’d been hurt and that you’d get in touch with them as soon as you were well enough,” Gertrude added.
“The police might be able to track down the men who attacked you. Less likely things have happened, after all, but either way they won’t continue to bother you about your age.”
“Thank you,” Morgan said after taking a moment just to take it all in, “I don’t know what to say.”
“‘Thank you’ is the customary response,” Emily said. “Boris took the opportunity to gather your things from your apartment. Even if you do not take Gertrude up on her offer of renting here, it really isn’t safe for you there anymore. If you want, I can help you find other arrangements.”
“He emptied my apartment?”
“It. . . did not take him long.”
“Which brings us to something a little more fun,” Gertrude added with a smile, patting Morgan’s hand where it rested on the table.
“I’m not following.”
“The mugging and your attack have finally enabled me to convince Gertrude that she needs to have the means for self-defense. For Haruhi’s sake, if nothing else. As it happens, I know a fine man a few cities over who sells such tools. It won’t be much more expensive for us to buy two from him than one. That his store is nearby one of the best clothiers on the planet is a happy coincidence.”
“I don’t have money for this,” Morgan protested. “I’m grateful for your offer, Gertrude, and it will save me money. That doesn’t mean I have any right now.”
Gertrude sighed.
“We know that. We’re offering to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“We know that too,” Emily said, matter-of-factly, “You were doing an admirable job of pulling yourself up by the proverbial bootstraps. If you hadn’t of gotten involved with the men robbing Gertrude I’ve no doubt you’d be at work right now, or studying, or doing whatever else you needed to do. We’re not offering because we think you can’t make it on your own, we’re offering because no one should have to make it on their own.”
Morgan was unsure how to answer this. It was so hard to trust anyone, and yet. . . and yet she had to trust someone. She’d trusted her parents, implicitly, because they were her parents. She’d put her future in the hands in the crew of the Pale Moonlight because there was no alternative, but she hadn’t trusted them. How could she? She didn’t know them, and they didn’t know her. She hadn’t really even trusted her one and only friend Jane. She’d liked her, true, quite a lot, but trust? No, not if Morgan was being honest with herself.
She would never see Jane again. Or her parents, for that matter. How lonely would she end up if she never trusted anyone?
“Honey, you need to let people in. What do you think it is like, working on a freighter? Your life is in the hands of every single person there, and their lives are in yours.”
Morgan slumped forward against the table, resting her head in her hands.
“I don’t think I know how to trust,” she said at last, without looking up. “
“We can help with that too,” Gertrude said, soothingly, standing up and putting her arms around Morgan. “Step one is even fun. You get to experience your first bona fide shopping trip!”
***
Morgan couldn’t say, afterwards, what she had expected clothes shopping to be like. Whatever she had expected, she had been utterly wrong.
In her admittedly short life, Morgan had only been shopping for clothing once. Once she was admitted to the school she had asked the recruiter about appropriate clothing for the work and where she could get it. She then went there and after holding a couple sizes up to herself to see what would fit bought as many as she could afford. It had taken her longer to get to the store than to buy what she came out with.
The stores Gertrude and Emily took her to – and she lost count of how many the
re were – were probably large enough to fit the entire population of Pari Passu in, assuming they were friendly.
But beyond the size of the stores it was the variety of clothes that was staggering. The other woman at times seemed to be speaking a different language than Morgan was familiar with. A-line, sheath, wrap – the names just kept coming and Morgan couldn’t make sense of any of it. What made a dress a ‘sun’ dress anyway? The first one they showed her was yellow, so at first she thought it might mean sun-colored, but the second one had been purple, so clearly she was mistaken. It was just as well that they were focusing on dresses rather than blouses and pants, at Morgan’s insistence, or they would have been at it forever.
Eventually Gertrude realized the terminology was getting them nowhere and started just asking what Morgan did and did not like as a means of narrowing it down.
Ankle length? No, too liable to trip.
Upper thigh length? Not simply no, but emphatically no. Morgan had to keep resisting the urge to tug it down every time her fingertips brushed up against her legs where they extended past the hem of the skirt.
Loose skirt or tight? Loose.
A dress over a blouse? No, too hot. Plus, why not just buy a blouse and a skirt in that case?
On and on it went. In the end they declared that Morgan had a preference for just above the knee length loose skirted dresses, either sundress or wrap style. Morgan was glad they felt better having defined her ‘taste.’
Even when they had at last settled on Morgan’s preferences there was still the matter of color, fabric, and then of course the trying on.
Gertrude certainly seemed to be enjoying herself, and Morgan had caught Emily cracking a smile a time or two. Stars above, the whole process was wearying.
This one was too tight in the shoulders, that one too tight in the waist, a third not cut to accommodate someone with as much arm muscle as Morgan.
The Long Black (The Black Chronicles Book 1) Page 15