A Break in the Sunlight

11. Tin Soldiers

Today was the day the General was coming.

It had been a week, now, since Jaren had awakened. Ironically, she had spent it mainly dozing in and out of sleep. Occasional bouts of dull pain were quickly eased with clear liquid med-streams and soothing words. She knew they must have her on some kind of sedative, because her thoughts were often cloudy and muddled.

Still, it had quickly become clear that Al Sadique and the GRC did not know who she was. If they had, they would have already sent her back to Arden, or put her in contact with Ellie. At the *very* least they would know her name. But they did not. Fatima, the nurse, had appeared the second day after Jaren had awakened with a clipboard and a list of simple questions. She read them off the pages in a thick exotic accent.

Jaren listened, her head on the soft pillow and her eyes closed in thought. Who would have thought such common questions would have so many hidden dangers? Name? Numeric I.D? Planet of birth? Date of birth? Parents? All simple everyday questions that Jaren could not, dared not, answer.

She had decided that the best thing to do would be to play possum. To see how much they already knew, and what they planned to do with that information. So she shook her head in response to each question asked and answered in a dull, raw voice that she could not remember, she could not remember anything. Eventually Fatima set aside the clipboard and simply squeezed Jaren's hand kindly. It made her feel like a shit.

So they stopped asking, but encouraged her to ask questions, and answered them happily. At first she croaked them out through her sore throat, but gradually they became fluid and normal.

No, this ship wasn't GRC, it was Arcadian Auxiliary Corps, a division that maneuvered as part of the GRC, but answered to its own civilian command structure. Yes, there was a distinction, but it was complex. Sain Al Sadique? He was the ship's captain and owner, a Colonel in the AAC and scion of a high-ranking caste in Arcadia. Arcadia was a New Utopian planet in the Basque sector. They were on their way there now, to meet the General who would question her. He had been to see her twice before, while she had been unconscious.

They told her she had sustained extensive trauma to the side of her face that had cracked her skull and shattered her cheekbone, and another blow to the back of her head that apparently occurred during the explosion, when pieces of debris had buffeted the pod. They said this must account for her memory loss, but hopefully it would be temporary.

Yes, her bioware had been found damaged but mostly intact, and during surgery had been repaired and reseated in her frontal lobe. There was a possibility that scar tissue would render it inoperative, but they would not know until the connections had time to reform and heal. That would take weeks of rest and medication. And it would be two to four months more before she would be able to safely try accessing the equipment. Fatima assured her that her chances were good for recovering full use of the jack, but Jaren could tell that the nurse had doubts. She tried not to think about it.

They had discovered her floating in the Fel'Sabch sector, they told her, in a sea of debris from the ship's explosion. Fel'Sabch was some five solar days from Firedown, as Jaren figured it, but she took care not mention that planet, or any other information that might give her away. Sain Al Sadique himself had spotted her pod in the mess and scanned it, finding one set of faint life signs. There was too much of the ship's hull floating in the vicinity to use a tractor beam. He had insisted on taking a shuttle through the dangerous debris field and bringing her out himself.

He came to see Jaren several times a day, now, watching her with a mixture of protective gentleness and keen interest that made her a little uncomfortable. He sat with her for long periods, answering her questions and sometimes making her laugh with his softly ironic humour. Sometimes she would wake at night to find him asleep in the chair beside her. Perhaps behind that placid exterior, he was burning to ask her more questions, but he did not. No one did. And for that she had been exceedingly grateful. She'd lost her taste for lying.

But today she was going to have to. They had entered Arcadia's system last night, and this morning the General's ship hung outside her viewport like a Sword of Damocles. He was to cross over after breakfast. They said he knew she had had memory loss, but wanted to ask her some questions anyway. What he really wanted, Jaren knew, was to interrogate her.

There was a knock on her door, and at her reply, Al Sadique entered.

"Ah, Najwa. Good morning. You are awake." Najwa was what he had taken to calling her. Jaren had asked him what it meant, but he had only smiled at her and laughed mildly. She had later learned that this was his way of politely avoiding an answer.

"The General has sent you his respects, and asks if you will be prepared to greet him at 09:00. I have taken the liberty of responding that you would be honoured by his presence."

Nine o'clock. Jaren looked at the clock. Less than an hour.

"You told him I don't remember anything?" she asked, her body tense.

"I did." he replied. If he sensed her anxiety, he did not show it. His face was relaxed, but his eyes were unreadable. "He still wants to speak to you."

—–

The meeting was anti-climatic. Most things were, Jaren found, when one feared them so greatly. The General, a large rough-faced man with a strong guttural accent, asked her some routine questions, nodded a lot at Al Sadique and his whey-faced secretary, and finally stood, patted Jaren's hand, and took his leave.

A short while later Al Sadique returned.

"What did he say?" Jaren asked him, as he entered. He seemed different, somehow. More unsure of himself.

"I am to attend a final meeting," he replied. "I expect that they will reach a finding and close the inquiry."

He hesitated, and then continued, looking down at the papers in his hand, not meeting her eye. "I had not told you, but you should know. The doctors retrieved your internal chip... during the operation. I am in possession of your logs."

Jaren's blood ran cold. Her breathing quickened. Oh Christ. Oh fuck. What was in the logs? What had she said? What could betray her?

He continued, still looking above her head, "They were greatly damaged, but recoverable. The originals were sent to me for the investigation. Only I have heard them."

She could only stare at him, mind whirling.

"I have recommended..." his voice seemed to come from far away, "...that the GRC close the inquiry."

He hesitated, looking down at her, somberly. "They have agreed with my conclusion that it was an unfortunate accident. Obviously a malfunction of the bulkhead, which resulted in an explosion that you, as a civilian passenger, were lucky to have survived. Do you concur?"

Jaren's eyes met his, light green on deep brown. She could only nod her head in response to the world of messages there.

"Good," he nodded. "Once the file has been closed, you will be free to go. I would be honoured if you chose to stay on in Arcadia until you are recovered enough to travel, but this is your choice."

He moved to the door and then hesitated, turning his dark head toward her.

"Najwa," he said. "You asked me what it meant. I will tell you, if you like. In my language Najwa means ' mystery'. But also it can mean 'she who keeps secrets'."

He opened the door. "Sleep, now. And you can decide what you will do tomorrow, Jaren Christian, now that you are free."

All rights reserved. Copyright Jae Darcy 2016.