Chương 21: Ch 14b - Questions

After he has opened the third box and explained its contents, she decides nothing is going to look or smell good and that perhaps the first box is her safest option. She makes, what she hopes is, a satisfied expression as she chews on the dried disc. In fairness, she reflects, it is possibly one of the more palatable things she has tried so far in an unusual peanut butter meets mint meets stale dried mango kind of way. He sits back in his chair, studying her while she eats.

She sits awkwardly in her chair, pretending to find interest in the design printed on the side of a box. When he notices that she has run out of disc to chew he reaches forward for a new box. Wanting to avoid yet another stomach lurching mystery food, she grasps for something to say.

"Argatta said there were others like me." He withdraws his hand slowly as he holds her stare, "We can't talk about that."

"Why not?"

"It's not part of the protocol," he says simply. She frowns, "That makes no sense." His attention returns to the boxes on the table.

"To you, possibly," he concedes, "but it is the protocol nonetheless." He selects a new box. Annoyed at his casual dismissal of her, she pushes back.

"But what if there's a connection between the others and me? Something that explains what's going on." Explains how I can go home, she thinks but does not add. He opens the box.

"There is no connection." He offers the open box to her. Her frown deepens. She ignores the box, "But how do you know?" He sighs.

"Because the answers you gave about where you're from, your background, your knowledge of your world, don't correlate with theirs. Nothing correlates beyond that you all say you don't know what happened."

"I might find a correlation that you've missed," she insists, her voice beginning to rise. He inclines his head as he briefly considers her suggestion.

"Then you can discuss that with Argatta." He waves the open box at her. Inside oily orange squares slide from side to side. She wrinkles her nose.

"But I could learn about them now, maybe come up with some ideas ahead of discussing it with her," she tries.

"It's not part of the protocol," he repeats, shutting her down again.

"I can only talk to Argatta? About them, me, my arrival?" she confirms, hating using their word: arrival. He tosses the box back onto the table and sits back in his chair.

"Only Argatta, that's the protocol," he says testily.

"But you work for Argatta?"

"I do." He laces his fingers together, fixing his indigo stare on her.

"Not," the name gets stuck in her throat, she has to force it out, "Vheece?"

"No," his eyes darken.

"So, you're not part of Trisec?"

"A different unit to Vheece."

"But Wyndeer works for Vheece?"

"Yes." His stare bores into her. She licks her lips and pushes on, "And the others who were on Xiatt, they are Wyndeer's team?"

"Yes." He sits perfectly still as he dispatches his answers without pause, seemingly more interested in her attempts to make sense of the puzzle than to aide her by elaborating.

"But you were in the team on Xiatt?"

"Yes." She frowns and bites her lip, "But you don't work for Wyndeer?"

"No."

"This is like pulling teeth," she mutters under her breath. Confusion dances across his eyebrows, "What about teeth?"

"Uh, no," she fumbles, "Nothing. It's an expression - like pulling teeth." He raises his eyebrows and looks expectantly at her.

"It means when something is difficult to do," she explains.

"Getting answers out of you is hard." She feels a flush sweep up her cheeks. His fingers graze his mouth, smoothing the skin of his lower lip, "If it's more information you want stop asking me closed questions," he says dryly. They stare at each other for a moment then he picks up the box of peanut butter-mango-mint discs, holding it out to her.

"How about we play a game. For every disc you eat, I will answer one question, with details." She looks at the discs; they are about the size of a fifty pence piece.

"Four questions," she counters.

"Two," he says lightly, appearing to enjoy the bargaining.

"Three?"

"Two," he insists. She sighs and reaches for a disc, biting into it as she contemplates her questions. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"The shards," she begins but he cuts her off.

"Not protocol," he says firmly, "Shards must only be discussed with Vheece present. No shards. No Arrival. No Visitors. Try again." She chews slowly. His mouth has returned to a firm line; he isn't going to be pushed on questions he doesn't want to answer. Prior to waking up today her thoughts had centred only on getting away from these people and returning home.

The idea that she must remain with them – live amongst them - until they can collectively understand why and how she has come to be here is only now taking root. The enormity of this mind shift brings with it the threat of her vertigo returning. She presses her toes into the floor. Reminds herself of the solidity of the chair she is sitting in. Searches for something to pin her thoughts on. Her eyes fall on his black uniform.

It is cut perfectly across his muscular body and emphasises the full-length cuffs gleaming on his forearms. She shifts uncomfortably at the Trisec emblem that brands him and everyone around her.

"If Vheece works for Trisec, who does Argatta work for? Is it your government, something called the assembly?" Sitting back in his chair and rubbing a finger across his lower lip he considers the question. The growing silence between them feeds her suspicion that he has no intention of aiding her understanding. With a final chew she readies herself to excuse herself from his cruel game. His hand drops from his lips as he begins to speak, "The Assembly – the General Assembly – is the governing body of Feilan Bloc.

The Assembly's authority is split across three Sub-Assemblies: Social, Trade, and Security. Argatta runs the IAAS. It's a research body within the Social Sub-Assembly. She told you about her research when you met the other day." Cara nods. Argatta's very enthusiastic summary of her research had been unmissable despite her bewildered state.

Draig continues, "Until recently Argatta's institute was considered an inconsequential research body, however recently they have built up substantial developments in the Visitor phenomenon. Argatta lobbied the Social Sub to negotiate a joint programme with Trisec to oversee Visitor activity moving forward. Joint programmes must be reported to the Assembly."

"But Vheece doesn't want a joint programme?" she asks. He tilts his head. A surprised look crosses his face. Again, she senses that his interest is not in the conversation but in studying her.

"That's your third question." He points a casual finger at the box. She sits forward, disliking his lack of empathy for her need to make sense of their world.

"No," she objects firmly, "It's my second. Before I was- I was just clarifying my first question." His eyes shine. A rainbow oil sheen passes over the indigo. He sits forward, mirroring her.

"Fine," he concedes, adding in a leading tone, "Do you want to rephrase your second question?" She rolls her eyes and is about to stubbornly repeat her question when she understands his hint.

"Why don't Vheece and Argatta get along?" He gives a subtle nod, a brief smile tugging at his lips. She bristles at his patronising look, unexpectedly enjoying the small fire of indignation it ignites.

"Power isn't evenly distributed across the three Subs," he begins.

"Most governance decisions lie with the Security Sub under the veto reasoning of Bloc security. Over time the Security Sub Assembly has absorbed greater responsibilities from the other Subs. While there are many bodies in the Security Sub, most of its activity is delivered through Trisec – the largest military body – which extends its security influence at all levels of Feilan life." He pauses as if to check she is following.

She attempts to give him a look of learned contemplation, concealing her fight to keep a hold of his thread.

"A joint programme across Subs is unusual. A joint programme with Trisec is extremely rare. Most are used to Trisec autonomy. Some dislike sharing their work, even within Trisec and certainly not externally." He sits back in his chair, watching her absorb the information.

"But Vheece is-" He stops her with a shake of his head.

"I think that is the limit of what I can divulge on our politics." Her indignation flares again. She hates sitting here under his scrutiny, but she has no where else to go. Infuriating as he is no one else has been willing to let her ask questions let alone answer some of them. With nothing else to look at and wanting to avoid his stare, she finds herself again drawn to the emblems on his chest. Curiosity gets the better of her.

"The emblems you wear," she points a finger.

"The top one is Trisec. Is the bottom one Argatta's research institute?"

"Not quite," he says lightly. He rests his finger on the top emblem, "Black and grey for the Security Sub." His finger circles the grey background and black outlines.

"Three triangles for Feilan Bloc. Three lines underneath for Trisec." His finger slides down his broad chest to the second emblem, "White and tan for Social Sub. Three triangles for Feilan Bloc. Two circles for Science and Research."

"And what about the colour stripes?" Her finger traces his white stripe vertically through the air.

"People seem to get called the colour they are wearing." Or not wearing, she frowns, trying to remember what colours were exchanged in the bunk house where everyone was in plain black.

"That is your fourth question, and you've only eaten one disc. You owe me more if you want me to keep answering," he says, gesturing at the box. She huffs out a sigh but takes three discs, "I'm banking some questions," she says, showing him the discs before taking a bite from one of them. Amusement sparkles in his eyes again. He rests a finger on the long white stripe that runs down the right side of his jacket.

"White is worn by members of the Social Sub, usually across the whole outfit." His finger slides across the stripe, "Pink denotes a rank." She leans forward and squints. She hadn't appreciated that his stripe contained two colours. The pink is so pale that under the harsh lights it fades into the white.

"Because I am representing the Social Sub, the white is displayed as a second stripe. Trisec members wear a uniform base of black. Members of the Security Sub outside of military bodies wear pale grey. Hierarchy in our society is denoted by a colour rank, the display of which is especially prevalent within the Security Sub and less so in the other two Sub-Assemblies. Trisec formal uniforms have a long stripe down the right side to denote rank. The rank ladder starts on Blue and tops out at Aqua."

She tries to think if she has seen any clothes of colours other than black. Argatta had been wearing white for Social Sub. The couple who had refused to help her had been wearing brown.

"On Xiatt I was given brown clothes."

"Yes," he says, "brown for Trade Sub." She looks down at the clothes Gask has given her. Plain charcoal grey, not black.

"What is this grey?" she asks, her fingers caressing the thin fabric of her jumper. She braces herself, expecting his reply to be prisoner.

"Trisec Cadet," he replies. His answer hangs in the air between them as they sit in silence. Cara trying to decide if being dressed as an army cadet is more ominous than as a prisoner. Draig studying her face. He cocks his head to one side and flicks a fingernail against his left cuff.

"Our time is almost up," he says, glancing towards the main doors.

"Is there anything else you want to ask me?" An echo of Vheece screaming at her to pick up the shard rings in her head. Was Draig's heated discussion with Gask because he didn't approve of what Vheece had done or simply because he and Argatta had missed out on witnessing her interacting with the shard? Does she dare ask? Draig's face is impassive as he waits for her to respond.

"Do you know how long it will be until I'm transferred to Argatta?" she asks, dismayed to hear the weakness in her voice. His face reveals nothing, "It's being worked out." Standing abruptly, he motions towards her room.

"You can stay and greet Wyndeer or return to your room. Decide quickly."

"Wh-" her question fades into confusion as she looks from the door to his frowning face and back again.

"Decide now," he snaps.

"I-" she rises quickly, his sudden urgency having caught her completely off guard.

"I – my room?" Like a deer in headlights, she stands frozen under his gaze. The tiny flick of his head snaps her into action. He puffs out his chest and turns to face the main doors as she scurries to the safety of her room. As the lock on her door clicks shut Wyndeer arrives bellowing Draig's name.