Whats that? she wanted to know.
This isnt a dream, I told her. Everything else might have been a trip in a fancy VE, but not this . I touched my broken nose, very gently indeed. No matter how preposterous the situation seems, Im certain now that were awake. I wasnt before, but I am now. And given that this is real, were in real trouble. Whatever game we were playing before, the game we have to play now is trying to figure out how to stay alive.
I worked that out for myself, she assured me, drily. Is it Zimmerman they want, do you think? Or Lowenthal?
I havent a clue, I admitted. But this place looks as if its Zimmermans vintage, whatever that implies. Do you have any idea how long weve been here? That is, how long has it been since we stepped aboard Child of Fortune ?
Nobody knows, she told me. Horne reckons it must have been at least twelve days. She says the real question is why weve finally been woken up. Theyre all standing around out there waiting for some kind of contact. Nobody believes that the space battle was real, but nobody can figure out how the ship was taken over, if it was taken over. You were unlucky Handsel probably wishes shed hit Horne while she had the excuse. Then again, Horne probably wishes shed had a chance to disable Handsel. Do you want me to go and listen in, to see what I can pick up?
It seemed like a good idea, although I didnt know why she was asking. Maybe it was politeness, because we were cellmates or because Id been hurt, or maybe she was just the kind of person who needed more reasons than she could provide for herself. Sure, I said. Ill be okay. I just need a few minutes.
She went, leaving me to my own devices.
I kept telling myself, over and over, that I had advantages over my fellow prisoners, and not just because I had lived without IT before. I had previous experience of jail cells, and uncontrollable pain. Unfortunately, I was badly out of practice. Telling myself that the broken nose was no worse than injuries I had suffered before didnt seem to help at all. Telling myself that I still had to go through it whether it was bearable or not didnt help either.
By the time I had been awake for what
seemed like a further hour I had begun to wish that I had never recovered consciousness, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldnt get back to sleep. Lying still with my eyes shut kept the agony to a minimum, but even the minimum didnt seem tolerable.
It seemed as if a subjective eternity had passed when Christine Caine came back into the cell and put a tentative hand on my arm. I opened my eyes and tried to focus on her face, although moving my head brought new tears to my eyes.
The woman on the screen says theyre willing to take a look at you, maybe give you something for the pain, she said.
What woman? I asked, dazedly.
On the screen, she repeated, patiently. Theyve opened communications. Im not sure they wanted to talk to us this soon, but I guess theyre worried about you. If you can get to the far door while the rest of us stay back, theyll let you through and take a look at your nose. So she says.
Christine kept her hand on my arm while I maneuvered myself off the bunk, but she didnt actually help. I managed to stand up without re-starting the bleeding, and stumbled after her as she led the way.
The others just watched. Apart from Mortimer Gray, they didnt seem unduly concerned about my state of health, although Michael Lowenthal looked as if he were about to say something until the presence of the others inhibited him.
It wasnt difficult to figure out what he wanted to say. Find out what you can. Dont tell anyone except me .
Paranoid as I was, I couldnt quite credit Lowenthal with having had enough foresight to have told his minder to break something in order to create exactly this sort of opportunity.
Adam Zimmerman looked at me in a way that seemed to say there but for the grace of God go I . I couldnt remember whether it was the first time we had locked gazes long enough for it to count as communication.
When I was left alone in front of the relevant door I heard a distinct click, and then the handle turned. The door swung inward, but the darkness beyond seemed impenetrable. I hesitated, but it had to be reckoned a useful opportunity.
I walked forward into the gloom, which became absolute as the door slammed shut behind me.
Twenty-Three
Alice
Another hand, no bigger than Christines, gripped my sleeve. This way, said a female voice.
I hadnt seen the woman on the screen, so I couldnt visualize a face to fit the clutching hand. It pulled me half a dozen paces forward, then to the left. I moved clumsily through another doorway, bumping my shoulder as I went.
When the woman had activated the light switch I saw that we were in a room no bigger than a cupboard. In fact, it actually seemed to be a cupboard, albeit a large one.
We were surrounded by storage racks, some of them crammed and some of them empty. The shelves had numbers on, which appeared to have been stenciled on the gray plastic in black paint. As in the cells and the room into which the cells opened, everything seemed unbelievably old. There were more rivet heads visible as well as hexagonal bolt heads. Most, but not all, of the packages stowed on the occupied racks looked much more recent. The ones that didnt seem to constitute fresh stock looked very old indeed, stylistically speaking, but they werent showing much sign of dilapidation or decay.