Kidnapped (28 page)

*****

When Travis woke up again, he heard Patricia and Malcolm chatting about subjects that made no sense to him. They were talking about pets and food, and for the moment, he was glad they didn't notice he was awake. He was disorientated, and wondered why he was laying down draped in a shirt. In a way it seemed as if no time at all had passed. Malcolm said something about making dinner for them, Patricia was asking if he really cooked, with real ingredients, and the old doctor answered her questions patiently, sounding slightly amused with her enthusiasm.

Travis fought to sit up, to stave off the fog that still wanted to creep into his mind, and said, "You can go with him, Babe, help if you want to. I, uh, I'll come too."

She exclaimed in a voice both happy and relieved, "Lover, you're awake!"

He wanted to groan, but just answered, sounding less than happy, "Yeah, I sure am."

Trying to get his shirt on was much more difficult and painful than he'd expected, and Patricia hurried to help. She asked softly, "Are you sure you should be up and about?"

 Malcolm interjected dryly, "He shouldn't."

Even Travis himself was very sure he should stay where he was, but he didn't want to, so he ran his fingers tenderly over her face and answered quietly, "Don't worry about me. Haven't I told you that before?"

They made their way slowly to the kitchen, and Travis felt guilty. There was too much focus on him when it should be on her. He just felt so weak, and he was grateful when he could sink down in a chair. At the moment, Alliance conditioning was the only thing keeping him from collapsing on the floor.

He watched Patricia ogle all the things she didn't recognize. She caught on quickly though, and was soon giggling as they got dinner started. Travis sat by the table, leaning against it, watching them with a gloomy smile playing on his lips. She seemed to be having such a good time, and he was going to stay and watch over her if it killed him. He wondered if this was what she'd been like back on her own planet, before he blundered into her life and changed it.

The food turned out surprisingly good, and he did his best to have some of it, reasoning that not appreciating it would hurt the feelings of both his wife and their host. It was funny how considerations like these had begun to rule his life while the old him wouldn't have cared at all. He was mostly poking around in it, every bite seeming like much too much, but he was trying.

Malcolm smiled and admitted, "This is nice. The place hasn't had this much life since my wife was killed."

Travis felt Patricia stare at him with, "oh no, don't tell me you did that," written all over her face. He glanced over at her and said seriously, "I did not kill her."

The old doctor looked sad, for a moment lost in memories, but added silently, "It's true, he really didn't."

He wasn't up to this. The pain wanted to take over, and he felt like fainting. On the other hand, he told himself, talking was a good excuse for putting the fork down. "It was a few years ago. Our good doctor here ran an underground clinic in this very house, with a legit business to cover it up. I led the raid."

Many people had died, some surely innocent, and he was surprised to find how things like that, things he hadn't cared at all about earlier, disturbed him now. He continued in a detached voice, "Most of the house was already secured, and I was searching the top floor. I opened this big cabinet, and a woman sat in it. She looked like a fairy. She was small and fragile, with long fair hair. She looked so harmless, so I pretended she wasn't there, closed the door and walked away."

While he moved on through the rooms, the others had gone upstairs and peeked into the very same dresser, found the woman, pulled her out, and shot her in front of her husband. Malcolm had eventually been left there. Veronica thought being stuck alone in the big house, together with the corpses of his spouse, employees, and patients had been a good enough punishment. The man was broken and would rebel no more.

If he'd been there alone, he would probably have killed the doctor and spared his wife. He shook the thought off and said flatly, "It was a long time ago."

The old doctor nodded in agreement. "It was. You got into trouble for that, didn't you?"

Travis shrugged, and was surprised that he could do it now without feeling that his arm would literally fall off. Veronica had known he'd looked in the dresser and seen the woman. She'd known he wouldn't just walk past such a perfect hiding place and he had been duly punished when they got back to Central. She'd had electrodes put on the most sensitive places on his body, reasoning some high-voltage electricity would remind him of the value of being thorough. It had: he killed everyone he encountered for a long time after that. He repeated calmly, "It was a long time ago."

Malcolm changed the subject, and Travis shared the sentiment. They had both lost too much of what mattered to the Alliance, and he could see no reason to keep poking around in the past.

As soon as he relaxed the world turned foggy again, and he almost didn't hear Malcolm asking him a question. "How old are you, Travis?"

Looking around, he saw Patricia tilt her head to the side, looking interested. He  shook his head a little, and answered as honestly as he could, "I don't know."

"I had a son once. He was three when the Alliance took him for training. That's why I started working with the rebels. I never knew what happened to him."

The old doctor coughed a little, looking embarrassed, but pressed on, "If it's the same to you, I'm going to pretend it's you from now on. I would have liked for him to find his freedom."

Malcolm's words made them all fall silent for a few minutes, until Travis eventually gave up on playing with his food. He pushed the plate away and said apologetically, "It's good, I think I like it, but I just can't eat anymore."

Patricia's eyes were wide and worried, and he probably looked about as good as he felt. She put her hand on top of his, smiling encouragingly. "You don't have to. You should go lay down, Sweetie."

He made a face, clearly meaning she was a mother hen, and replied, "I'm fine," to discourage every further discussion of the matter. He wasn't fine, not anywhere near fine, but that was beside the point.

Glancing to the side, he saw Malcolm watching him thoughtfully, but he was too dizzy to figure out what it might mean until the doctor said, "May I ask you something?"

Travis looked down at Patricia's hand on top of his, wondering what had possessed her to hook up with him in the first place instead of trying to flee, and answered calmly, "Yes," wondering what the other man might have in mind that was bad enough for him to ask if he could ask. It would probably be bad enough he wouldn't want to answer.

"You don't feel well, and you don't want to eat anymore, but if she asked you to, would you?"

It seemed a strange question, and Travis answered flatly, "Of course."

Patricia spoke at the same time, "Of course he wouldn't. That would be... silly."

Malcolm held up his hand to her, gesturing for her to be patient, and asked, "If she asked you kill me, or to attack a central Alliance planet or why not the Redeemer, or to take your own life, would you?"

Travis didn't see where this was going. The answer to all these questions was self-evident. "Yes."

Beside him, Patricia pulled a hand over her forehead, trying not to groan, and Malcolm made a face somewhere between a grin and a grimace. His voice was warm and kind when he spoke again, "My dear girl, I just want you to know you should always be careful with what you ask of him. You're luckily a responsible and good person, but keep in mind he'll do
anything
you ask of him. Anything."

Patricia looked bewildered, and said, "But..."

Malcolm tried to elaborate. "The Alliance's programming is still there. He just obeys you now, instead."

She tried to speak again. "But..." Travis met her eyes, and she said, "Oh my God, Travis, you can't..."

He frowned, unable to understand why something that seemed so obvious to him made her react like that, and he decided to apologize, "It's just the way it is. I'm sorry."

Malcolm chuckled, "Don't be, it's not your fault, she just wasn't prepared for it."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When Travis woke the next morning he felt disoriented, then everything came rushing back to him. They were in the old doctor's guest room. He was still alive, so maybe it hadn't been a trap after all. Patricia was awake too, leaning on an elbow and looking at him, and he tried to arrange his face into a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. She asked, "How are you, Sweetie?"

He answered the same thing he always did, "I'm okay, Babe. Don't worry."

She narrowed her eyes, and when she asked, "You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" he cursed Malcolm silently.

"I feel terrible, but much better than yesterday."

The truth was rewarded with her caressing his chest, and the feeling of her warm hand against him brought a real smile to his lips. Then, she reached over to touch his new hand, and the sensation was astounding. His old implant had worked very well in most aspects, but it wouldn't have been able to send something like the gentle stroke of her fingers back to his brain. This was the first time he experienced anything like it. Back in the days when he'd had a hand, there hadn't been anyone to touch it.

She saw him smile in the corner of her eye, smiled back, and asked, "What?"

He answered earnestly, "I can feel that. It's nice. Do it again."

Giggling, Patricia leaned over him to kiss it, and he said softly, "Baby doll, that's amazing."

He wanted to make love with her so badly, but moving ever so little sent a blazing pain through his entire side, so he had to settle for pulling her close with his real arm and holding her tight. He was exhausted; he had dozed off for a few hours from pure fatigue, but even then, his dreams had been haunted by pain. Having his wife so near helped, and he closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of having her there.

 "You do look a little alike."

He opened one eye and glanced at her. He didn't have to ask what she was talking about, but he didn't agree, and he answered, a little amused, "No, we don't."

She smiled too, "I'm not saying he really is your father, that would be too much of a coincidence, but it was really sweet of him to say that yesterday."

Travis felt like he should say something, but nothing came to mind that wasn't whining about pain, so he settled for, "You're sweet."

They soon veered over to other subjects, and eventually ended up talking about the Alliance, and their friends on the Redeemer. It was inevitable. It was the one thing always present everywhere around them. Patricia said almost dreamily, "Would you believe Veronica tried to tell me the Alliance is the good guy? That the Rebels are destroying all mankind?"

Travis thought dryly it was exactly what he'd expect Veronica to say. Patricia snuggled closer and continued, "She said the things they do to people, like they did to you, is just because no one would stand up and fight for the Galaxy willingly. I wonder what it was like in the beginning."

He didn't answer, he was waiting for her to continue, and she did. "She told me the galaxy is under a constant threat, and the stations William has been taking out power satellites and guard stations along the border. Do you think it could be true?"

Throughout his long service, he had never heard anything about that, and pure physics made it seem almost impossible, but she must have spent quite some time thinking about this, and he wanted to think it through, too, before he answered. "It doesn't seem likely. You know how you find navigation difficult because the planets are always moving?"

He felt her nod; her hair tickled him and made him smile. "Well, the stars move too, and the entire galaxy is rotating slowly, and the galaxies themselves move, farther and farther away from each other. To build something to guard the border... I suppose it could be done, but people would have to be building constantly, because everything is moving constantly."

"I guess you're right, but that's all over great periods of time, right? I wonder how long it takes the galaxy to spin a full turn."

That, he did know. "About 225 million of your planet's years."

When put like that, maybe it was possible. Patricia seemed lost in thoughts, and he gave her a little squeeze to regain her attention. "Do you want to go look?"

It wouldn't be easily done, but as usual, her will was his law, and if she wanted to, he'd find a way to make it happen. He hoped she'd say no, and after thinking about it, she mumbled, "Naaah, seems like too much work."

A few minutes later, Malcolm knocked on the door and called out that breakfast was ready, and Travis had to struggle to get out of bed. There was something wrong with her buttoning his shirt. It felt like it should be coming off instead of going on, but he reluctantly had to accept he was still too weak to do anything about it.

*****

They ended up staying with Malcolm for another couple of days, and all three were a little sad when the time came to part. Travis realized his wife had grown fond of the old man, and surprised both the others with asking the doctor to come with them. He did have an ulterior motive: pregnant women shouldn't be in space and a doctor might come in handy, but their friend declined. He had lived almost all his life in that house, on that station, and claimed he would die there too, eventually, surrounded by his memories.