Damage Control - ARC (14 page)

"What does broccoli have to do with what?"
the keev asked with exasperating calmness.

"I thought this was supposed to be an
interrogation."

"It is an interrogation." His fierce
reptilian-looking face was expressionless, but Jade thought she saw
a glint in his eyes. Apparently, he found her frustration
entertaining.

She sighed. It was his game and she wasn't
going to win it. "Sorry." she said. "I just don't understand how
knowing whether or not I like broccoli can help you win the
war."

"We have learned many useful facts by knowing
our prisoners well," the interrogator explained. "So it is an
interrogator's job to explore a prisoner's mind."

A confusing mix of admiration and hatred came
over Jade.

"Do you like sushi?" Chegg asked.

"I wish you could tell me how it works," said
Jade. "But then I guess you'd have to kill me." It was meant to be
a joke, but it didn't even make her smile.

"How what works, a Personal Device?"

"No, interrogation. The technology that can
read my mind like that."

The Chuzekk laughed, so loudly and suddenly
that Jade jumped. "If the technology could read minds, then many
things would be very different," he said. He spoke to his Personal
Device (there was that sound 'zo' again) and the pictures started
appearing on the wall again.

The pictures were from what Jade now thought
of as the 'saved folder'―pictures of people whom the Chuzekk
computer had apparently guessed that she knew. For the most part,
it was right. But as the pictures scrolled past, she realized that
some had been added since her last session. Her aunt Becky was
there now, for example, along with Becky's children and
grandchildren.

She wondered how the Chuzekks obtained the
pictures. Maybe they had invaded the State of New Hampshire and
seized the vital records building. Or maybe they had just hacked
the State computer system. Or maybe they had a secret agent there
who looked up specific information.

A picture of her nephew Remmy minimized and
was replaced by one of her cousin Max. A rush of adrenalin shot
through her, and every part of her body wanted to jump out of the
station and make a dash for the door.

“Leli zo!” said Chegg, and put his hand on
her back.

The pictures stopped moving. Max froze on the
wall and Jade could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

“MacKendall Brown,” said Chegg. “Chief
Warrant Officer, US Army. Military Intelligence. Your cousin.
When's the last time you sent or received communication with
him?”

Jade wondered, herself, what the answer to
that question was.

“Have you communicated with him since you met
Zuke Gevv?”

Unfortunately for Max's safety, yes. Jade
sang “Mary Had a Little Lamb” in her imagination, to shut out the
questions.

“Have you communicated with Max since we
captured Los Alamos?”

The Chuzekks captured Los Alamos? Jade hadn't
heard that before.
...little lamb, little lamb, whose fleece was
white as snow.

“Have you communicated with Max since the
Americans killed Ambassador Bekk?”

Who was Ambassador Bekk?
And everywhere
that Mary went, Mary went...

“Have you communicated with Max since your
birthday?”

Definitely it was after her birthday.
...her lamb was sure to go.
Jade tried to shut out Chegg and
his questions and concentrate on the fluffy little lamb, playing in
a grassy field of daisies.

“Since we made contact with China?”

Unfortunately, yes it was after the Chuzekks
made contact with China. After the peaceful landing in Beijing. Why
wasn't the landing in Washington peaceful, too? Clearly, Mary and
her lamb weren't working. She needed to think of a more emotionally
compelling distraction.

“Since we made contact with Russia?”

Yes, it was some time after that awful day.
The landing in Russia had been peaceful, too.

Chegg was probably getting his questions
answered, just as he had when he'd asked her how she liked her
coffee. She really needed to think of a better distraction, but
what could she use? She needed something that affected her
emotions, probably in a positive way…

“Since our first attempt to make contact with
America?”

Attempt to make contact with America? They
hadn't just attempted to make contact, they had made it―and they
had made it with weapon-fire. And yes, she'd chatted with Max since
then. But what did Chegg mean by “our first attempt?” Had they
tried before that and failed? And what was that about killing an
ambassador? “What do you mean, your first attempt to make contact
with America?” she asked aloud.

“Perhaps my description was inaccurate,”
Chegg replied in the closest thing to an apology Jade had heard
from him. Too bad the near-apology was wasted on such a trivial
thing as inaccurate phrasing. “Have you communicated with Max since
our first landing in Washington, when the American Armored Division
killed Ambassador Bekk?”

“Your invasion force came down shooting,”
Jade burst out without thinking. “I don't think that was a very
good time to have an ambassador on board.”

She wished she had just shut up. But it was
said: she couldn't retract it. If he was going to punish her, there
was nothing she could do about it now.

But Chegg just laughed. “We came down
shooting?” he said. “Is that what they told you? And in Beijing did
we come down shooting, too? Did we come down shooting in
Moscow?"

Jade inhaled sharply, ready to put his
arrogance in its place. Then she remembered where she was, pulled
her lips in and bit them. Her breath blew out her nose and made her
sound like an impatient horse.

"You're pissed!" the Chuzekk laughed, his
voice full of amusement. She could feel the laughter in his fingers
where they touched her back.

"I need a restroom break," said Jade through
her teeth.

"What is a 'restroom break'?" the keev asked,
his voice and hand still laughing.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Jade
explained, pretty sure he was playing dumb to make her wait. If
this was a game he was playing to demonstrate his power over her,
then it wasn't one she had a chance of winning. "May I go to the
bathroom, please?" she asked in the most respectful voice she could
manage.

"Why do you say 'have' when you mean 'need'?"
he asked, still taking his time. He tapped his Personal Device and
the body outline and bar graph enlarged. "Your lower ab tension is
less than sixty," he observed, " and the size differential is not
sufficient." He slid his hand slowly down so it covered more of the
small of her back, until one fingertip was uncomfortably close to
her tailbone. She tried not to react. "Lumbar test failed. You lie,
or perhaps you confuse emotional signs with physiological ones.
Request denied."

He took a sip of coffee. "Since the Americans
killed Ambassador Bekk," he asked, "did you meet with Max
personally? Did you speak with him face to face?" He paused for a
second or two before continuing, "Did you speak with him by
telephone?" Another short pause. "Did you meet with him in a
chatroom?...Did you communicate with Max by instant message?...Did
you communicate with Max by email?...Did you use an internet voice
call application to communicate with him?...Did you use a social
networking website?...What devices did you use to communicate with
Max since the Americans killed Ambassador Bekk? Did you use your
own desktop computer?...Did you use your own laptop computer?...Did
you use Becky's desktop?...Did you use Becky's laptop?...Did you
use another person's computer?...Did you use a public
computer?...Did you use a smartphone or PDA?...Did you use a
Personal Device?"

Chegg studied his Personal Device for about
thirty seconds, then spoke a commandand the photo of Max
disappeared. "You may have a restroom break now, if you wish," he
said.

Jade stood up, and it made her legs hurt. Her
whole body ached, and she realized she’d been tensing all her
muscles ever since Max’s picture had appeared. When she got to the
toilet, it took a long time to get her body to relax enough to use
it.

When she got back, there was a different
image on the wall. Leathery and light colored, somewhat brown and
somewhat green, an object sat on what appeared to be a post or
pillar.

"An egg?"Jade guessed.

"Yes. My youngest child."

"Congratulations. How long until it
hatches?"

"About half a year."

"So what happens now? Do you have to—I don't
know—tend it?"

"No. All it needs is protection."

"That picture doesn't look like it's taken
underwater," said Jade. "I thought Chuzekk babies couldn't breathe
air."

"They cannot. This pillar is in the middle of
a pool of water. If you look in the middle of the bottom of your
pool, you will see a place for attaching an egg pillar. When the
egg begins to hatch, it will move and fall into the water."

"The fall doesn't hurt it?"

Chegg shook his head. "Not at that age."

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"It will be boy, but right now it is neither.
The sex depends on the food they eat after hatching."

"You're kidding! Are you serious? Are you
just playing with me?"

"I am serious. Certain seaweed produces males
and certain seaweed produces females."

"Wow. We have creatures like that on Earth.
The workers feed the babies according to what kind of adult they're
going to need: worker, drone or queen. Is it your first?"

"It is my eighth." Chegg tapped his Personal
Device and the egg disappeared. A video played on the wall
instead.

“It’s the same egg,” Chegg explained. “You
see it hatching.”

In the photo, the egg had been dry and
sitting on a post. This time, it was underwater, and so was the
camera.

They watched as its leathery brownish skin
was slowly torn open from the inside, and the tiny creature
gradually freed itself. Jade had always imagined that Chuzekk
nymphs looked like tadpoles, but Chegg’s child looked more like a
young salamander, or water dog. It had a prominent, sharp-looking
egg tooth and huge eyes.

“He’s so cute!” Jade squealed.

“Yes,” Chegg agreed, smiling.

The hatchling swam quickly to a corner of the
pool and began to eat. Chegg and a female Chuzekk appeared, touched
it reverently on the body, fins and face, and continued to caress
and speak to it as it ate hungrily, apparently ignoring them.

“Your wife,” said Jade.

“Yes. This is the bonding time. A Chuzekk
forms a strong bond with the first people it meets after hatching.
It is very important that both parents are present.”

When the video ended, Chegg placed a Personal
Device on the desk in front of Jade. It wasn't his own―his own was
still projecting her uniform-telemetry. “This is for you,” he
said.

“Thank you,” she replied, figuring it was
prudent to mind her manners. She picked it up and opened it. She
would have thought it was too big to fit nicely in her palm, but it
did. It had a tiny screen and a keypad. But instead of keys it had
little round holes, only as big as the point of a dull pencil. So
maybe she'd have to type with her dry pen.

He put something else in front of her. It was
whitish, spiky and oddly-shaped. Not sure if it was sharp, she
examined it without touching it. Still, she was clueless.

Chegg laughed. “They are prosthetic claws,
for typing.”

She picked them up and saw that they were
made of plastic and all molded as one piece, like artificial
fingernails, only shaped differently. When pulled apart, they would
fit over her fingers like thimbles.

Chegg tapped the keypad of his own Personal
Device. “Your guards are here,” he said. “You should eat now and
sleep soon. You may leave the station.”

T
he creature was
short, scrawny and fuzzy in patches. Where it wasn’t fuzzy, it was
pink and smooth like someone who had been burned nearly to death
and was waiting for the hide to grow back. And as if that weren’t
entertaining enough, the creature was actually trying to intimidate
a Chuzekk keev.

Gyze Quejj couldn’t see his team’s faces,
since he was behind them and they were all facing the creature’s
projection on the corner wall. But he imagined that most of them
were smiling, as he was. It was one of this job’s advantages:
watching Humans could be very entertaining.

“I’m telling you,” the creature was saying.
“If you don’t believe me, check it for yourself. I have a black
belt. Liu’s. Liu’s karate studio, in Belleview. That’s L-I-U. Just
walk in there and ask anyone. They all know me. Jonathan
Bartholomew Gooding, black belt. Size don’t matter, if you got
skills. Or claws, either.”

The keev smiled. “Perhaps someone here will
be willing to help you practice.”

Gyze was enjoying this session, but mostly he
was looking forward to the next one. They would get a brand new
subject for the next session. Interpreting the telemetry of a
member of an alien species was always a challenge, and when the
alien was a complete stranger, the challenge only intensified. And
every new Human seemed to entertain him and his colleagues with a
new cuteness, a new silliness.

When the new subject first came in, he
couldn’t see it. One of the cheejes in front of him tapped a few
keys on his Personal Device and the new subject’s uniform-telemetry
appeared. It was female and fit, probably a soldier. Her intense
fear was typical at this stage. Some of the other readings were
not. They would need to analyze those later: there was no time
now.

The Human greeted her interrogator with the
arm grasp and the statement of submission. She had learned that,
then, and was willing to use it. Whether or not she understood its
meaning was another question.