Double Helix 03_ Red Sector - Diane Carey [20]
“Not soon. They’re in turmoil here. The Federation is leaving.” “Yeah, I’ve heard that rumor…”
This was getting him no where. He couldn’t see the other guy, and if he asked too many questions, that guy would be justified in asking questions also and Stiles would feel obliged to answer. Then again, why not? “Who are you? What’s your name?” “Zevon.” “Just ‘Zevon’ ?” “Yes. Who are you?” “Eric Stiles.” “Human?” “Uh-huh.” “Starfleet, then.” “How do you know that?”
“The only humans on this planet are either Starfleet personnel or Federation diplomatic corps workers. The Poijana would never put diplomatic staff in prison.”
“Ah… they’ll harass the ..military but not the civilians. There’s brainy.”
“The military understands that capture is part of the job. The Pojjan know that.”
Stiles shuffled to his cot and sat stiffly down, then sank back against the wall. “Are you saying that if I weren’t Starfleet, they wouldn’t put me wherever we are7”
“That’s correct. They wouldn’t have captured you at all. The Federation would be hostile if civilians were made political pawns. Starfleet is fairer game.” “Oh, that’s great …. “
Lying back as he was, Stiles gazed at his uniform, at the black field of shirt and pants, the ribbed waistband, and the poppy-red shoulder band under his chin. It looked strange with the combadge missing. They’d taken it. So they knew it wasn’t just jewelry.
“But wait a minute,” he began. “I was guarding a coach full of civilians and the Pojjana tried to shoot us down Why would they do that? Isn’t that making them political pawns?”
“The Pojjana could have claimed the coach crashed. If they gained possession of the civilians alive, they probably would have put them back in the embassy and claimed some delay or other.” “Buying time?”
“Most likely. The Pojjana are clumsy with politics. They do things without knowing why.” “Just hedging their bets?”
“Perhaps. The lingering of a thousand civilians is easier to justify than the disappearance of one soldier.”
Stiles flexed his legs and winced at the stiffness. “What you’re saying is that I’m small potatoes.”
“I would suspect so,” Zevon confirmed quietly. “If that means what I infer.” “Yeah.. ? mmm… ow…”
From the other cell, the man called Zevon quietly asked, “Are you injured?”
“My ship crashed. I got knocked around. I thought my shoulder was broken, but it’s not. Mission was simple… if headquarters… if they’d just cued me in to the situation, none of this would’ve happened. They should’ve briefed me. I’m just an ensign. I’m not supposed to know everything. Somebody should’ve known this would happen… so they can have it. They don’t come and get me? Fine. I’ll stay here I don’t need Starfleet if they don’t need me.” Staring at the floor files between the frame of his bent knees, he sighed. “I have a date tomorrow night …. “
Prison. Prisoner of war? But there was no war. why was he a prisoner? Did a cold war have prisoners? How long?
Ambassador Spock hadn’t told him how long this might last. Now Stiles understood-the ambassador had just not known. He had deliberately evaded answering. The answer was bad. More than six months?
How long would it be before his hair got long enough to braid? How much longer before he actually started braiding it, just for something to do?
Staring ahead at the next few minutes, with an aching shoulder and a throbbing head, somehow the concept of months eluded him. Right now even the concept of lunch was eluding him. How long before he got hungry? Would they feed him? Was deprivation part of the torture regime? How much did this Zevon really know about Pojjan habits? If Zevon himself was Pojjan, he might not really know how they’d treat a human prisoner. I’m on my own.
“I wouldn’t be here if I’d had a better team;’ he complained. “Travis was the only one with any off-station experience. It’s not my fault what happened.” “You were in command of a landing party?” “It wasn’t my fault!