“I know,” he agreed.
“You can start by telling me how I got here, and wherehereis.”
“Martha has already told you—”
“Don’t even think of feeding me that same line of bullshit that she did! It’s all been a dream, and I’ve just woken up from it, right? I can buy that. But how did I get here to begin with, and when? Last night? So everything that happened in City Hall today didn’t really happen, you didn’t fight Jorran with swords, didn’t get wounded—no, of course you didn’t. There’s no cut on your chest.”
She was staring at his chest triumphantly, thinking she’d just managed to confirm everything she’d just said. “The cut was there, but is now gone,” he was forced to tell her. “Such is the amazing ability of a meditech, which I was Transferred into upon arrival here.”
“Dalden, are you okay—mentally? You don’t really believe that nonsense, do you?”
He smiled at her concern for him. “You were told that all would be revealed to you after our task was completed. The time for answers is now.”
“Then start telling me the truth, because this science fiction crap just doesn’t wash. And you can start with where we are.”
“In my quarters aboard theAndrovia.”
“Aboard as in—on a ship? Quarters without a bed or bathroom? Sure.”
In this case, it was much easier to show her than convince her. He took her hand, pulled her over to the Sanitary wall, and pressed a button there. Walls immediately enclosed them in a small area, a toilet and sink slid out, the circular shower rose up from the floor to fill the corner, and a ledge dropped down with other amenities, including access to the dial-up closet. He took a moment to dial a light blue tunic. It was delivered in less time than it took to don it.
While she was staring incredulously at everything that had been revealed, he pressed the button to send it all back into concealment and dragged her over to the other corner of the room. Pressing the button there slid out new walls, and a section of the floor flipped over, leaving a narrow bed in its place that would adjust in size once someone laid down on it.
These, too, he sent back before he said, “I feel confined here, which is why I do not leave these things out, but send them away until they are needed. I am told it is designed to make these rooms seem bigger than they are.”
“I get it,” she said, finally looking at him again. “This is a movie studio, right? Props, make-believe stuff that isn’t really real.”
He sighed. He had known this would not be easy, but he hadn’t thought it would be impossible.
“You search for any answer but the truth,” he told her.
“Show meproof!” She was getting agitated again. “If this isn’t a studio made to look like a ship, show me what’s outside of it.”
“This room has no windows.”
“Correction.” Martha’s voice came through on the audiovisual ship’s intercom on the wall, proving she was in standby assistance mode. “Knowing how much you hate being reminded of what you’re traveling in, Dalden, the windows were never revealed to you.”
The walls began to move again, in Martha’s control this time, opening up a long bank of windows made of something other than glass that revealed nothing but water and a lone fish swimming past.
“A submarine?” Brittany said in surprise, but then she frowned and added skeptically, “Or a large tank of water. You call this proof?”
Dalden growled in exasperation. Martha chuckled. “Give it up, kiddo. She doesn’t require proof. She already knows what she’s dealing with, she just refuses to accept it, and no amount of words will change that.”
“Because aliens are a myth, perpetrated by the UFO craze!” Brittany shouted for Martha’s benefit, but then she rounded on Dalden and slapped her palm against his chest. “Look at you, you’re flesh and blood, you’ve got all the right parts in the right numbers, even if you are a bit big. There’s nothing alien about you!”
“It pleases me to hear you say so,” he replied. “This name you have for off-worlders is only slightly more tolerable than what I am usually called.”
“He’s referring to the namebarbarian,” Martha supplied. “It’s how the rest of the civilized universe views his world, not because of the way his people look, dress, or even that they still fight with swords. It’s their overall outlook, their primitive laws, their stubborn adherence to tradition that’s outlived its time.”
“You arenothelping, Martha,” Dalden said.
“Just telling it like it is, warrior. Why go through this stonewall disbelief twice? Besides, her idea of an alien is something bizarre-looking that isn’t humanoid—another reason why she’s having trouble grasping reality here. If you looked like the Morrilians with their oversized heads that accommodate their magnificent brains, she’d have no problem pointing at you and saying you’re an alien.”
Brittany wasn’t listening. She was gripping the hair on both sides of her temples and saying to herself, “There has to be a logical explanation for this. There has to be.”
Dalden moved to put his arms around her.“Kerima, your distress pains me. What must I do to ease it?”
She leaned into him, trying to accept the comfort he offered. “Just tell me there’s a really good reason for lying to me.”
