“Telestator operator, how may I help you, sir or ma'am?” A woman's voice, sounding as clear as if someone stood right there with them.
“I'd like to be connected to Western University, thirty-nine, sub c, please. Calling for Doctor Professor Grainger. Please inform him that he will be speaking to Constabulary Detective Westmorland, thank you.”
A small sound that seemed like “urk” came out of the air, but nothing else did. After about a minute a man's voice boomed at them, sounding familiar to Gwen from the other day.
“Good afternoon. Is everything alright? I believe we met, briefly, in regards to Miss Farris and that awful mess. Is... everything alright there?” His voice held trepidation, as if he didn't want to know the answer if it was bad news.
“Good afternoon, Doctor professor. Yes, all is well with Miss Farris, indeed it's her idea that caused me to contact you. Without discussing Constabulary matters on an open line, I can tell you that we would like to speak to a geologist if possible and wondered if you knew any at your university that you could provide introductions to?” This said she waited for a reply.
A soft chuckle came from the air in front of them, Gwen almost certain it actually came from the air itself not one of the spheres, now that she had a chance to listen for a few moments. The sound quality seemed excellent, but the bulky machine took up a lot of space for what was essentially a telephone, or possibly a radio of some kind. Still, she tried to memorize everything Beth had done, just in case it came up. Being able to use the phone seemed potentially important to her. Repeating to herself a single word several times as she did so, Gwen made herself remember everything.
Adapt.
They arranged to meet at the university in an hour, Bethany breaking the communication by simply lifting her hand off the second sphere.
On their way out of the store, the owner rushed from the back, calling out his thanks to them and promising to deal with it within the day, even though they'd given him a week. To Gwen he seemed oddly grateful, considering that she'd probably just cost him a good bit of money.
Bethany smiled at her as they walked away.
“That was a kindness. By rights he should have a half dozen auditors descending on him as we speak to confiscate everything he owns. Not that I care about that end of things personally, since all I'm responsible for is my current case. Still, he got lucky and he knows it. Plus you didn't mention his penchant for men...” She looked at Gwen curiously.
This, Gwen could tell, would be one of those cultural things she needed to learn and probably fast. “Is it... illegal here? Homosexuality I mean? Where I come from, that kind of thing is just, oh, personal choice really. I didn't mention it, because I don't see it as important if that's what he wants to do. Plus, he just thinks about it, so that sounds pretty harmless, all things considered. ” Worried that this could offend the other woman she waited for an explosion or an icy silence to come.
Once again she found herself the recipient of a chuckle instead.
“It's not illegal at all, though some people still frown on it. It makes them uneasy, especially if they secretly harbor such feelings themselves but don't wish to admit it. The man only worried that his wife would find out and sue for divorce. He seems fond of her, even if not sexually attracted all the time. I know that he didn't understand why we ignored that, since it was his larger concern. It's interesting how different our cultures are, isn't it?”
The woman linked arms with her as they walked down the street, finally stopping under another sign. It had a P with an L overlaid in gold letters on a brown background. Gwen looked around, seeing a few people standing nearby as if waiting for something, all of them staying at least six feet away. She started to go on alert as a man in brown stared at her, expecting attack, but instead he smiled and looked away when he noticed her looking at him.
After a few minutes, a machine about the size of a railroad car drove down the street, being pulled by a larger version of the cart that had pulled the car, the lorrie, the day before. The main compartment was a bright red with green trim, the whole thing looked elegant for, what she realized, was public transportation. A public lorrie? That would explain the sign.
The men held back, waiting for all the women to board first. Bethany flashed her medallion, causing the driver to sit straighter and mumble “ma'am” as she strode past. He didn't try to take a fair from Gwen either, a kind of borrowed aura of authority apparently passing to her and, she thought, the woman walking on behind them. The seats, a green leather, weren't soft, exactly, still it was better than walking she thought. Especially in the shoes she'd put on that morning, which worked well enough with Katherine's outfit, but weren't really designed for moving around very much, they pinched her feet a bit and she could tell blisters would form if she tried to go more than a few miles in them.
The trip took most of the hour they had, she realized, not moving over twenty miles per hour at any point and stopping every two or three blocks for people to get on and off. No one exactly hurried to get on either. To request a stop you rang a little bell, she saw each of the brass poles that ran from floor to ceiling down the middle of the wide walkway had one about six feet off the floor.
Finally Bethany stood and rang the bell closest to them, signaling their need like a few others already had.
As they walked to the front of the vehicle to get off, the man that had watched Gwen before suddenly reached out and hit her, he must have aimed for her kidney and missed, hitting her backside instead. A clumsy open palmed blow, that or some kind of dim-mak intended to incapacitate somehow, a nerve strike or maybe just a distraction so that she wouldn't expect the next move? She didn't leave him the chance, just hoping he didn't have too many buddies on the public lorrie for her to handle. Her left hand dropped instantly, grabbing his right, managing to catch his little finger as she walked forward, pulling him from his seat.
Spinning, tearing his hand to the side, bending the pinky finger back hard – since bending it back didn't really hurt that much she'd want to use a lot more force than with some other moves – she kicked him in the throat, not hard enough to kill, even with the hard pointy toe of her shoe, just enough to make it hard to breath, or at least that's what she'd been going for. She wasn't used to this body yet, so it was harder to judge force exactly than it would have been at home. The man mewled in pain a bit, so his throat still worked, she guessed.
“Who are you!” She yelled at him suddenly, flipping his hand over so that she could get a wrist lock on him instead of just bending a finger back. Bending his wrist forward, she knew, would hurt a lot more. It got him to roll over onto his back on the lorrie floor.
“Who sent you!” She yelled, stomping the man with her foot in the sternum, hard, several times.
Bethany laughed at her.
Chapter nine
Bethany kept laughing even after they left the transport, she'd go silent for a few seconds, fighting for control, then burst again. Finally, after several blocks of this, Gwen glared at her long enough to get her to stop for good.
The detective straightened her jacket, pulling the hem down and shifting it side to side, as if the laughter had caused it to become disarrayed. While still heavy and durable, the colors on this outfit were brighter – a deep reddish tone – than the dull brown she'd been wearing the first few times they'd met, and still looked professional. Gwen's own outfit looked more like a party dress, or something you'd send a girl to prom in, she realized. She'd picked it because it had been toward the front of the chest of clothes, a strange thing that stood upright and had the things hanging inside, like a tiny wardrobe rather than a suitcase.
“Alright, chuckles, what did I miss there? Why let him go like that? Did he hit me by mistake or something that I didn't notice?” She asked this innocently, really feeling baffled by the whole thing. For some reason this made Bethany laugh more. Even the other people on the bus had hidden smiles from her after the initial event itself.
“Gwen... dear... He wasn't an attacker or sent by anyone... he was a masher! He'd been trying to feel you up, not attack you. Your reaction though, priceless! The look on his face when you started screaming at him, holding him on the ground.” She pulled a kerchief, a practical one of light blue colored cotton, and blotted at her eyes. She managed to stop laughing, but still smiled hugely.
“Now, don't get me wrong, he deserved it for trying to take liberties like that, and I'd be surprised if he gets off without a thrashing from the driver and at least a few of the other men. Still, don't they have men like that where you come from? Ones that get overly friendly with women they don't know?”
It took Gwen a bit, trying to figure out how to explain what her life had been like before, to make this woman, pretty by the standards of any culture, understand what it was like to be reviled, feared, and even hated for how she looked.
It took a few minutes, but finally, far more seriously, Bethany nodded.
“I see, I think. Your previous appearance made you a second, possibly a third, class citizen. Like an untouchable of the Indus culture. An abomination, some would say here. So when this man took liberties, or tried to at least, you didn't have context for it and could only see it as a physical attack. That seems rational, if a little out of step with your current situation.” Taking Gwen's arm she drew her around a corner. Talking while they both walked.
“We're not so different, I think. Being a Westmorland makes me far less popular in some areas than you might imagine. A lot of people see me as something other than human, rather than an orphan raised with powerful conditioning that's otherwise like they are. Everyone seems to assume that if you're a Westmorland you were conditioned for war, even if you hold other positions like I do.”
Ahead of them they saw Doctor Professor Grainger with another man, shorter and younger, thin, but wearing similar clothing and having the same mustache. About half an inch of hair long, stopping exactly at the corner of the mouth. Next to him stood a woman, older, with iron gray hair and wearing clothing of a type that Gwen hadn't seen before, not on a woman at least.
She wore what appeared to be a brightly colored, striped suit in various shades of green. Similar to what the men wore to work at the Constabulary, except for the blouse underneath that had frills on the front, and the colors being more cheerful and looser, allowing the curves of the body to be hidden. The whole thing looked a little mannish, but had to be easier to get into and out of than the dress Gwen was wearing at the moment. If she got a chance, she'd have to find out if that kind of thing would be something she could wear too.
Doctor Professor Grainger walked forward, not touching either woman, not offering to shake hands, but speaking warmly.
“Detective Westmorland, Miss Farris! How wonderful to see you both. I didn't know that you would be coming, Miss Farris, but I'm so glad you did. These people here would both love to speak with you, I think. This gentleman,” he gestured as if worried they might not know which one he meant, “is Doctor Wiseman, geology. And this...” he moved to the woman in the suit, gesturing at her as well. “Is Doctor Debussey. She holds doctorates in both traditional magic and the new field of psychology, one of the first ever granted in that field, which is the study of the mind as not related to magical forces or abilities. She specifically requested to meet you, Miss Westmorland, for what are doubtless obvious reasons. Still, Erin, I think you might also find Miss Farris of great interest. She's the woman I mentioned the other day?” He gave the woman a small half smile, her eyes popping open wide when she realized his meaning.