Chapter 14
ZALIS
The improbable occurred.
Constable Pama had apprehended Gemma’s traffickers.
Gemma shared the news over the evening meal, excitement vibrating through her body. “I can’t believe that snotty cop caught them.”
“Excellent. They have suspects in custody. All that is required of you is to return to Tholla for a formal identification,” Zalis said.
Her excitement waned. “I don’t want to go back there. Ever. Can’t I do the ID over the network?”
“Your reluctance is understandable, but you cannot. Tholla law requires that such an identification be done in person as there is a chance of data manipulated over the communication network,” he said, consuming the last morsel on his plate.
Gemma had prepared an Earth egg-based dish called omelets.
It was rich and buttery, with bits of vegetables and meat.
While Zalis appreciated all the food she prepared, he did not want her to feel obligated.
She explained that a decimal error left her with too many eggs and did not want to waste them, which was foolish.
The excess could be recycled. Matter was matter.
With her fork, Gemma pushed around the half-eaten omelet.
“Is the meal not to your liking? I can fetch a hot meal from the cafeteria,” Zalis offered.
“The food’s fine. The eggs are a bit rubbery but it’s nothing sriracha can’t fix.” Despite her words, she moved the plate away.
“The eggs are perfect.” He did enjoy the spicy rooster sauce, which was made of chili peppers and not poultry of any kind. The bottle’s packaging was deceptive. “Tell me why your mood has shifted.”
She huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “I can’t go for the ID, obviously, because of the travel ban, and those goons are going to get away with it. So yeah, I’m a little bummed.”
“You are making several assumptions based on incomplete data.” He nudged the plate back toward her.
She gave him a sour look but did not protest. He had agreed not to treat her as fragile or monitor her food consumption, but she had only eaten a quarter of her meal. It was unacceptable.
“Tholla is enroute to Val Mori.” Zalis pulled up the ship’s schedule on his comm unit. “The Judgment will stop there tomorrow for supplies. This is fortuitous.”
“Tomorrow? I don’t get any time to think about it?”
He could hear the conflicting emotions in her voice, a desire for justice and the urge to never have to revisit her ordeal. Facing her captors would make the wounds fresh again.
“I would give you more time if I could,” he said. “Justice has a poorly managed schedule.”
That earned a huff and a twitch of her lips. “And we can take a shuttle to the planet’s surface and do the thing?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Everyone will know. I know that sounds lame, but I don’t want people looking at me and feeling sorry,” she said. “Or telling me how brave I am. It’s exhausting.”
“Many others will be also taking the opportunity to stock up on provisions and items that do not replicate well. No one will know the true purpose of our trip.”
She scratched behind her ear. “Not to sound too much like a capitalist drone, but will we have time to go shopping?”
“We will make the time.”
This answer seemed to please her. She added another splash of the vivid red-hot sauce and finished her omelet. Good.
Zalis would move the stars to ensure the trip went smoothly. Nothing would upset her.
GEMMA
“Do not be nervous,” Zalis said.
“I’m not nervous,” Gemma replied, which was a complete lie.
Zalis pointedly glanced down at her trembling hands.
“Fine,” she admitted and hid her hands under her thighs. “I’m a little nervous.”
She shouldn’t be. She would be anonymous behind a protective barrier. Those monsters wouldn’t be able to see her, let alone hurt her. If they did manage to escape custody, Zalis was right there. Her bulwark would never let anything happen.
And it wasn’t like she’d accidentally run into the warehouse where she’d been held. That was on Tholla’s moon. After landing, Zalis pointed out its location in the sky. If anything, Tholla held good memories. She was reunited with Emry here and got pins in her ankle.
Still, her hands shook. It made no sense.
From the moment she woke up in that cage, she kept it together.
She was focused, angry, and full of spite.
They might have broken her ankle, but they weren’t going to break her.
Now that it was all over and she was safe, she was falling apart.
Nightmares. Headaches. The uneasy sensation of being watched when she was alone.
And for no discernable reason, she trembled like a leaf in a storm, which was just humiliating.
“You do not have to do the identification,” Zalis said.
“I do.” The people who did this to her needed to know they didn’t break her and they couldn’t frighten her into silence.
After all this was over, she and Zalis were going to wander a farmer’s market, visit all the food stalls, and get ice cream or a frozen fruit equivalent. Both, if possible. Most importantly, she was going to enjoy the feeling of the sun on her face for the first time in more than a month.
All that was in the future. Until then, she had to sit in a busy corridor in a police station, waiting to be called in by Constable Pama.
“Can we talk about what you’re wearing? That’s a lot of buttons,” she said.
That morning, instead of dressing in his normal gray-on-dark-gray uniform, he wore a form-fitting sleeveless white shirt with equally form -fitting tan trousers.
Over that, he had an indigo jacket with brass buttons.
Somehow the jacket had both a cowl and a capelet over one shoulder and she had no clue how any of that worked.
On the jacket front, he wore one of his dragonfly drones as a broach.
His knee-high boots were leather and with matching brass buttons on the outside that did nothing.
She knew this because she watched him use the invisible zipper when he dressed.
Zalis looked like he was on his way to pilot an airship. All he needed was a pair of goggles and a top hat with some gears glued decorating the band. It was whimsical. She liked it.
“I do not wish to discuss the matter,” he replied, sitting stiffly.
“I like the fit, but you don’t look comfortable.”
He plucked at the cowl and smoothed the fabric draped over his shoulder. “My mother gave this to me and asked that I wear it the next time I was on Sangrin.”
“I don’t know your mother, but she probably meant that you should wear it the next time you visit her.”
His eyes widened, as if that had never occurred to him. “Yes, that was likely her intention. Does your ankle pain you?”
“Nice misdirection. It’s fine.” A visit to the doctor that morning replaced the boot with a slim-fitting sleeve that kept her ankle rigid but was thin enough to wear slip-on shoes.
Hardly fashionable but better than a clunky boot.
She was also promoted from crutches to a cane, which she could use for long distances rather than the chair.
As helpful as the chair had been, it was awkward to maneuver in the cabin.
And it was worse in a crowd. At best, she was ignored.
Being ignored was fine. It was the people talking to her like a child that made her want to scream.
The cane was a definite upgrade. No more bumping into doorframes and furniture, and if someone started talking to her like she was an idiot, she’d whack them with the cane.
Oops. So clumsy. Sorry.
Her head, though, that was a different matter. She kept massaging behind her ear, hoping to ease some of the tightness there. The blinding headaches had stopped at least.
The constable finally arrived, looking more worn and haggard than Gemma remembered. She did not question Zalis’ presence, just tipped her chin up in his direction and led Gemma into a gallery. There was a barrier separating her from the lineup.
“They cannot see you,” Pama said. “Take your time and carefully look at the suspects. If it will help you with the identification, they can recite a brief sentence. If you recognize anyone, say their number.”
Gemma barely listened. She recognized two of the goons right away. “Number four and seven.”
“Take your time. Look again. Be certain.”
“One hundred percent certain,” Gemma said. “They were the ones who brought us food and water. The one with the funky eye liked to spill water everywhere and laugh. The other one was okay. He mostly ignored us. But you didn’t get the boss.”
“The boss?” Constable Pama rapped on the screen.
“Yeah, the one with the weasel face. He was in charge,” Gemma said, watching the gallery empty of suspects.
Pama furrowed her brows and looked to Zalis, as if he could offer illumination. She said, “An Earth animal descriptor is unhelpful.”
Gemma did her best to describe the pinched face and the smug look of someone who avoided consequences.
To her credit, the constable wrote down the description. “We have enough evidence to convict these two on smuggling. We do not need a third.”
“But it’s an organization. Taking out the lowest members doesn’t change much,” Gemma protested.
The constable gave her a tired look. “Sentient being trafficking will require a trial and you would have to testify. These two will likely be offered five years in prison if they plea to smuggling.”
“Five years? That’s nothing. I want a trial. I’ll testify,” Gemma said, glancing at Zalis as if he could help.
“I am unfamiliar with the intricacies of Sangrin law,” he said, which was no help.
Gemma tightened her grip on the cane, tempted to start whacking it around. “I came all this way just for you to tell me never mind. You couldn’t have mentioned all of this when you called me. You didn’t need me at all.”
“I needed you to know the traffickers have been apprehended.” Pama shared a look with Zalis, whatever that was about.
She continued, sounding sympathetic, “It is frustrating. With your identification, there is enough evidence to convict but the court system is slow and overburdened. I wanted you to be aware of all possible outcomes.”
“Oh, it is beyond frustrating.” A trial if the prosecutor or attorney general or whatever they had here wasn’t too busy. A plea deal if they were.
“It is justice,” the constable said. Then added, “A form of justice.”
Gemma tapped her cane against the floor. This whole situation was unsatisfying, but it was better than nothing. Her last encounter with Constable Pama definitely left her with woefully low expectations. She said, “Since that’s the best I’m going to get, I’ll have to live with it.”