Authors: Maureen O. Betita
All during the recorded struggles to contain her, she’d said nothing. Forty eight hours later, and Sam had failed in getting her to talk. Drum found no physiological reason for her silence. The doctor’s gentle manner won some trust from her, and she’d taken the clothing from him, dropping the back closing gown the
Ballard
crew had given her and slipping into the fresh outfit with no show of modesty.
Sam considered how fast Drum had spun to look away as she’d changed. No sense of manners kept Sam from studying her body. The past photos of the author showed a woman approaching obesity. Not this present incarnation. She was curvy, but not to an extreme. At one point, she’d glanced at the one way mirror, eyelids narrowing. He suspected she’d known someone was watching, but didn’t care. He’d observed, poised to intercede if she tried to take advantage of Drum being a gentleman. She didn’t. She’d allowed Drum to run a full series of tests, watching the medical expert closely. She’d only shied away when he plucked a few hairs from her head. Perfectly understandable.
When Drum took her back to the cell and sat next to her with a computer notebook, she’d listened to him intently. Sam almost refused Drum’s request to see if she’d cooperate with a series of questionnaires. Right now, he thanked God his friend had convinced him.
“She knows what I’m doing. She’s watching and she understands every question. She seems pleased that she’s passing the tests. I don’t think there is anything wrong with her brain. She may not speak English but reads it and knows it. Did you see her grin when Shep cracked a joke about all that hair and the MRI machine?”
He’d nodded. Lord knows, she’d basically ignored his interrogation. Other than to shrug her shoulders and sigh a great deal when he spoke about the missing crewmen.
He watched again as she examined the notebook, and then showed she understood what Drum wanted. The doctor left her with the device, a Marine on watch. And then she sped through test after test. The entire expanded Briggs and Meyer test took her four minutes, the standard IQ tests, twice that. The tests on moral compass made her grimace and she skipped a great many of the questions, rolling her eyes from time to time. At the end of three hours she set the device down, yawned then folded her arms on the table, set her head atop them and went to sleep.
The testing had surprised everyone.
He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and considered the episode. Once she’d settled into the notepad, Drum left and joined him in the observation room.
The doctor stood at his side, his mouth slightly agape. Her answers were analyzed as quickly as she entered them. Drum quit attempting to follow along on his linked notepad after thirty minutes. The screen blinked and the computer readings appeared when she’d finished.
Clearing his throat, Dr. Drum, read the results and shook his head. Then rubbed at his eyes and blinked. In all the time that Sam had known the man, he’d never seen him so rattled. “Well, her answers match what we know of the author. Her moral readings follow the liberal arts background. Her knowledge of modern history is non-existent. She has little religious opinion, neither an atheist or a believer. Ambivalent, I’d say.” He’d let the notebook drop to his side. “I’m going to need time to understand this.”
“She answered so quickly, did she even read the questions?”
“Yes, her answers show an understanding of what was asked.”
“Could she have been coached on the standard tests?” It boggled the mind to consider that, but she’d seldom paused, her hands flying over the screen.
“Certainly, but the computer sets them in random order, no one could memorize a set of answers and spit them out that fast. Trust me, Monty. She answered from her first inclination.”
“Then why skip so many?”
“Because she simply didn’t like any of the answers. The option is left on the moral compass section, which are most of what she skipped. That test would be new to her, if she is the author.” Drum chuckled. “Quite a quandary. At least now we know, she can read and write.”
“She didn’t write anything.”
“Yes, she did.” He pointed to the final entry. “Under name she used the stylist to write
Ria
.”
“The initials of the author, Drum. Doesn’t mean anything.”
“But it does. She wrote without hesitation, after several hours. It was an automatic response. She considers Ria to be her name, period.” Drum slapped him on the back. “I’ll look this over tonight. Try not to stay here all night. Get home and get some sleep.”
“Yes, sir.” Sam spoke flatly.
“As if I could order you to do anything.” Drum chuckled and left the room. Sam stood and studied her sleeping form, then ordered her roused and taken to her cell.
Nine hours later, he was back to watching her, the monitors showing stills of her face from every conceivable angle. She sat, her face and most of her body hidden by the curtain of hair. A sudden thought occurred to him and he searched the data base for the MRI picture Drum had shown him before leaving. Could that be her hair? He shifted to a live view of the scan and noted that she did lie on the long strands. He magnified the picture and compared it with the scan. It shouldn’t pick up that mane, and hadn’t in its entirety, but those seven lines directly matched that mass of wavy strands. She had something hidden!
He turned from the monitors and headed for the elevator. Just then, the discordant ringing of the building’s alarm went off.
*****
Ria glanced up as the bell began to ring. She held her hands to her ears, wincing. She doubted it sounded so loud to the rest, but she lived in a very quiet world and the clanging bell echoed inside her head, making her wince. She glanced up the corner of the cell. No doubt a camera watched her and recorded every move she made.
Damn, her body sagged with exhaustion, and her mind. They never stopped asking her questions. She didn’t know where the sailors were. She suspected, but she didn’t
know
. The tall man, with the striking blue eyes, seemed so worried about them. She sensed a patient and hiding anger behind those eyes. Hell, she hadn’t snuck up while they napped in the sun, overpowered them, and forced them to board her raft! No doubt, he blamed her for their disappearance.
She couldn’t tell Agent Montgomery what she didn’t know. And she didn’t dare speak. Once she opened her mouth, it would all spill forth and then they’d lock her away forever, convinced she’d gone insane. So, she kept silent.
At least that doctor trusted her to cooperate, without the constant battering. Fascinating to see how far notebook computing had come. That tablet had been no thicker than a standard magazine. It forwarded to the next page, or set of questions she supposed, without prompting. Some of those problems made her uncomfortable. Like a pebble dropped into her calm pool. Even now she found herself contemplating why they would want to know such invasive things or ask questions without better options.
One in particular filled her with an emotion she knew was rage, but she couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt it.
You’re on a lifeboat and three children cry out for help from a sinking raft. There is no room on your lifeboat unless an old man who is unconscious is thrown overboard. What do you do?
She’d looked for the option of getting out in place of the children and it wasn’t offered. What sort of people were these?
The bell shut off and she sighed in relief. A moment later, she heard the locking mechanism to her cell click and the door flew open. Agent Montgomery shouted something to the guard and reached behind himself. He pulled forth something she did recognize. Handcuffs.
With a shriek, she shot to her feet and tried to back away from him, smacking into a wall. He followed, reaching for her right hand. She thrust her hands behind her back, tangling them in her hair and struggled with him. It proved useless, he overpowered her and strong-armed her to the floor, snagged her wrist and clicked one cuff closed. To her shock, the other closed around his left wrist. He hauled her up and thrust her at the door.
“No one is breaking you out of here! Might have worked aboard the
Ballard
, but not here!” He growled as the lights went out. “Not so silent anymore?” She felt him shove past her, then jerk her forward by the link on her wrist.
She stumbled and a moment later fell forward, pulled off balance. Reaching out she tried to figure out what she’d tripped on and found Agent Montgomery, sprawled on the floor. She felt around his body, searching for the key. But her hand slipped on something warm and wet. Lifting her hand she sniffed. Blood. He’d been hurt.
She left off looking for the key and ran her free hand up his body. She found a deep laceration at the side of his head. It had already soaked the short cropped hair. She tried to remember what to do with a head wound. If she tried to staunch the blood with fabric, would it act as a wick and increase blood loss or help the clotting process?
She couldn’t remember!
So damned many things she couldn’t remember.
A sound from the doorway made her turn a head. A soft glow approached. She could see the body of her guard, blocking the doorway. It was carefully eased to one side. She looked and relief filled her. “T’talin! Help me, he’s hurt!” The familiar form of the present leader of the Aleena towered above her. He was strong, he could help her with Agent Montgomery.
“Ria, we must leave quickly.”
“I know, but he’s bleeding. Help him.”
“His people will tend to him.” T'talin slipped into the room and tried to help her stand. Despite the alien strength, the deadweight of the unconscious man made it impossible. She glanced at the body and saw the blood pool spreading. Without hesitation she lied.
“I can’t come without him. He chained me to him and I don’t know how to free myself. He’ll die before they can tend to him, and I’ll be found with his body. They’ll lock me away so deep you’ll never find me.” She didn’t know where the lie came from, but she didn’t correct herself. Some part of her needed this man to live.
T’talin leaned down and hefted him up. “Come. We’ll see to him.”
She grabbed the slim pillow off the cot, ripped its cover free and quickly wrapped it around Agent Montgomery’s head before allowing him to lead the way from the complex.
Another Alien Encounter
Forever A Pirate
A Caribbean Spell, book one
Red Sean’s Revenge, book two
The French Gambit, book three
Magic’s Hostage, book four
The Hard Choices, book five
The Spanish Challenge, book six
The Blood Tears, book seven
A Desperate Course, book eight
Summoned Home, book nine
The Lurking Menace, book ten
Ruby, book eleven
Something More Than This, book twelve
The Hunter’s Trail, book thirteen
The Haunting, book fourteen
Upon the Bridge, book fifteen
The Magician’s Pearl, book sixteen
The Nightmare Nest, book seventeen
The Night God, book eighteen
Soul Struggles, book nineteen
Miranda’s Trial, book twenty
The Taste of Blood, book twenty-one
Lee’s Gift, book twenty-two
The Rebel Plot, book twenty-three
And seven to come
Other Books by Maureen O. Betita
The Kraken’s Caribbean Series
The Kraken’s Mirror, book one
The Chameleon Goggles, book two
The Pirate Circus, book three
The Kraken’s Promise, book four
Short Stories
Rumsgiving ~ A Holiday for Emily
Silvestri’s Unintended Consequences
The Founding of the Port
A Troubling Courtship
Keitran’s Ascension
Alien Encounters
Essentially Human
The Alien Library
The Embrace Protocol
No Place Like Holmes
Born in Flight
Maureen lives along the lovely Monterey Bay and finds great inspiration in being so near the Pacific Ocean. She shares her home with Stephen, her high school sweetheart, married for over 30 years; a cat named Isabeau and a dog named Bonnie. She travels miles and miles to attend pirate festivals, renaissance fairs, scifi/fantasy conventions, steampunk cons and writing conferences.
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