Damage Control - ARC (15 page)

After that she didn’t speak for a while. The
last two subjects hadn’t spoken, either, at this stage.

Chegg walked into camera range and informed
the subject which station she would kneel in. She appeared to
confuse the statement with an order, and knelt quickly. She was
small, even for a Human, a paler pink than the previous two
subjects, and the fuzzy patch on her head resembled a water garden
full of orange vegetables ready for harvest. And she moved like a
water woman.

Chegg affixed the facial telemetry device and
it began transmitting.

“You did not sleep last night, nor eat
today,” Chegg complained. That could explain the unusual readings,
then. He began his coffee routine, and Gaizz and his team watched
the new subject’s reactions, enjoyed observing her amazement as she
began to realize the nature of Chuzekk interrogation.

After that, Chegg used the images technique,
and pretty soon, the subject began to talk. Whether she talked or
not didn’t matter for the interrogation, of course, but it seemed
that Humans were usually at their most entertaining when they were
talking.

“May I join you?”

The solitary prisoner looked up from the
cafeteria table where she knelt over a plate of food, looking at
her Personal Device. "Sure, of course.” She fussed over her tray,
even though it already took up less than half the table.

Gyze put down his own tray and knelt across
from her. “I am Gyze.”

“Hi, Gyze, my name is Jade.” She put her
Personal Device back on her hip. “I've seen your rank before,” she
said to him, ripping open three sugar packets at once and pouring
them into her coffee, “but I don't know what it is.”

“Chiroje,” Gyze answered.

“And is that higher or lower than cheej?” she
asked, opening a tiny plastic cream cup.

“Lower,” said Gyze. “A chiroje supports
usually twelve cheejes.”

Her smooth brow furrowed. “So, you give
orders to cheejes, or cheejes give orders to you?” She put in
another cream and stirred.

“I give orders to cheejes.”

“But you said chiroje is lower than
cheej.”

“Yes, chiroje is lower than cheej."

She looked at his stew for a moment. “What
does that red glop taste like?”

"I find it difficult to describe taste to an
alien. You may taste it yourself.”

“If you have the right to give someone
orders,” she lectured, “we'd call that being higher in authority
than they are.” As soon as she tasted the stew, her lips puckered
and her eyes watered. She thrust a whitish lump from her own plate
into her mouth, and her face began to relax.

“You are American, are you not?” Gyze
asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Then it is understandable that your concept
of authority is incorrect. But perhaps you can answer a question
for me."

Her eyes narrowed. "I could try." She stopped
eating and held her breath.

"What is sushi?"

The prisoner's soft little eyebrows went up
and she let out her breath all at once in something close to a
laugh. "I don't know a lot about it, actually. Rice wrapped in
seaweed, I guess, and then they put something on top of that, like
fish."

"Is sushi for adults? Or only for
babies?"

"Adults, definitely."

"Do you Human adults actually eat seaweed?"
These creatures' diets were even stranger than he had imagined.

"Yes. You don't eat seaweed?"

"I did eat it," he said, "but then I grew
legs."

"Grew legs?"

"Perhaps you are not familiar with how we
develop. When we first hatch, we have no legs. Seaweed grows on
Chuze: it is very like Earth's seaweed, and it is the only food of
our hatchlings. But when we metamorphose, we walk and breathe air
and do not eat seaweed."

"Your babies are tadpoles."

"Tad poles," Gyze repeated. "Little
sticks?"

"No, baby frogs. Earth amphibians. Their
babies are cute little green fishy-things, and they eat algae,
which is almost like seaweed."

"You wish to learn about interrogation
technology."

"Who told you that?"

"You," Gyze answered. He removed his Personal
Device and set it to replay a segment of the audiovisual recording
of her last interrogation session. "I wish you could tell me how it
works, but then I guess you'd have to kill me."

Jade's cheeks reddened and she looked
away.

"I am part of your interrogation team," he
explained, not hiding his smile.

"You just heard about sushi today," said
Jade. "That was from me, too, huh?"

"Yes." The answer came out in a hiss, and he
could feel his lip curling into a sneer. He paused to force his
face back into a neutral expression. He had to concentrate to keep
his tones soft and even, as he had learned in language school "My
zeed―my boss―is an interrogator. I support twelve cheejes to help
him interpret the gashh's telemetry during interrogations. My zeed
is on special leave now, so temporarily we work with Chegg's
interrogations instead."

"Gashh, that means 'prisoner', right?" said
Jade. Her words were respectful, but her voice had changed, and she
was glaring at him. He figured she didn't know it.

"Yes," Gyze hissed. "You are a gashh." With
the claw of his left index finger, he traced on his own faltoopp
the figure of the rounded rectangle she wore on hers. "Our uniforms
contain sensors. They detect the amount and location of heat,
moisture, muscle tension and pressure. They also detect heart rate
and breathing. They transmit this data wirelessly. Our technology
cannot read your mind, but it reads your body. We provide stimuli
in a controlled environment, and interpret your body's responses to
those stimuli. This helps us make certain guesses about what you
know, and we try to confirm those guesses independently."

"Let me see if I understand," said Jade.
"When I'm in interrogation, where are you? Are you somewhere
watching?"

"Yes," he answered, allowing himself another
smile. "Our work area has three white walls at eighteen-degree
angles." He touched the edge of Jade's tray, on the long side
nearest him. "On one wall we project the images you see on the wall
in front of you during the interrogation: whatever you see, we see
on this wall." He moved his finger to the corner of the tray. "On
the second wall we project the interrogation: we can see Chegg and
you." He moved his finger to the end of the tray. "On the third
wall we project the telemetry from your uniform." He moved her
plate to his own tray. She was just reaching for a piece of sausage
and her fork nearly connected with his hand instead.

"Careful!" she warned, "I almost stabbed your
hand."

Gyze laughed. "With that?" He grabbed her
fork out of her hand and gave his own hand several jabs with it. "I
am not Human," he spat, and gave the fork back to her.

She stared at him with wide eyes.

He placed her juice glass near the corner of
the tray, an equal distance from the end and the side. "My station
is behind those of the cheejes I support," he explained, indicating
with a sweep of his fingers the area between the glass and the
corner.

"Why eighteen degrees?" Jade asked.

"That is a square corner―a right
angle―modified by the third wall equally."

"That would be forty-five degrees, then."

Gyze growled. "I will teach you like a child,
then. There are one hundred forty-four degrees in a circle. There
are―"

"Three hundred sixty," Jade interrupted.

"Three hundred sixty?" he repeated, openly
smiling at the ridiculous Human system. "Humans use three hundred
sixty degrees for a circle?"

"Yes. And Chuzekks use a hundred forty-four,
I guess."

"Yes, of course. I should not be surprised
that your geometry is inconsistent with your numbering system."

"Look, you don't need to insult me, okay? I'm
not the one who decided how many degrees should be in a circle. I
didn't make up Fahrenheit or inches, either, in case you're
wondering. And I'm not a spy. I'm just a mom who needs to get back
to her family. My little girl's only seven!"

T
he keev-ship's
kitchen was a clattery place and a smelly one. Plates of food from
around the world traveled on well-lubricated conveyor assemblies,
punctuated by other plates containing strange-looking concoctions
that could only be the stuff the Humans ate. The equipment seemed
to be all metal, shiny silvertone or dull black, to reflect the
heat or to absorb it, depending on the function of the part in
question.

Gyze heard someone call his name, and saw his
cousin standing in front of a deep counter arranged with vessels
full of curiosities.

“Kaill,” Gyze responded in greeting.

“What did you do today?” asked Kaill. He was
arranging the alien substances in layers in a wide, flat vessel
made of matte black metal.

“I watched another Human put on a show for
us. This one’s name is Jodasadbarsolobyu.”

Kaill’s eyebrows rose. “What part of that is
the personal name and what part is the family name?” he asked.

“It is all the personal name. His family name
is Gudig. Jodasadbarsolobyu Gudig.”

Kaill shook his head. “Do they all have such
long, difficult names?”

“No. Human names seem to vary significantly,
but this is the longest name I have seen yet for a Human. Some
Humans have easy names. I have seen Bill, Todd and Chadd.”

Neither cousin spoke for a moment as Gyze
stared at the strange layers Kaill was putting into the vessel. No
matter how many meals he had with Jade, he was sure he would never
grow accustomed to Human food.

“This is better than chowder,” Kaill
shrugged. “Chowder stinks.”

“What is this?” Gyze asked, indicating a tray
of pasty-looking white strips.

“That,” Kaill explained, “is made of grain
that has been ground to a powder, mixed with water to form a paste,
shaped and dried, then rehydrated in boiling water.”

Both men smiled.

“Does it taste good?”

“It is tasteless,” Kaill shrugged again. “I
cannot guess at its purpose.” He grabbed a little shovel that stood
in a vessel of white goo and used it to spread the gloppy stuff as
the next layer of his creation. “This is the worst part. It is a
mixture of bird eggs and the rancid glandular secretions of a
mammal.”

“And what is this?” asked Gyze, pointing to a
vessel containing a soupy red substance.

“That’s a delicious vegetable preparation,
diluted with water until it has very little flavor.”

“I’m going to Earth,” said Gyze. “Do you want to
go with me?”

Kaill laughed. “Let's go tonight. We'll sample
the finest Human restaurants.”

"I'm going to visit a little girl," said
Gyze.

His cousin stopped moving with a jiggly strip of
rehydrated grain dangling from each hand. "I hope you are
joking."

"I'm serious. I have important business on the
planet."

"You are a telemetry interpretation support
chiroje. What business could you have on Earth?"

"This business is not part of my job."

"You want to risk your life for personal
pleasure?"

"It is not for pleasure. It is for a young child
separated from her mother. She needs my help."

Kaill shook his head. "You are sick, Gyze. You
should be on medical leave."

The alien planet resembled an artificial
garden, a fantasy, a play place for children. Gyze stepped out of
his pod onto the moist, dark-brown earth that sprouted a succulent
soft green vegetable resembling Human hair. He strode up the stone
path and over the little step and stood on the wooden platform that
formed the front of the house.

He tapped on the thin metal doorframe with
the backs of his claws. The door itself was made of a sort of mesh:
it was nearly transparent. Another, more solid door fit into the
same doorway, but it stood open.