Microsoft Word - Katriena Knights - Starchild.html by Liz

Author:Liz
Language: eng
Format: epub

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The first thing Trieka noticed when she woke was that she couldn't see. The second thing

she noticed was that she was folded in half, so she couldn't move her legs without hitting

herself in the chin with a knee. Her wrists were tied behind her back. She felt hard metal

walls on all four sides. Apparently, she'd been stuffed in a locker.

Quelling a surge of panic, she closed her eyes to shut out the darkness. She quoted

Shakespeare and King James scripture to herself until the panic faded.

You can handle this, Cavendish. You've done it before.

In training, she'd spent twenty-four hours alone in an emergency evacuation capsule on

three separate occasions. On one, the capsule had been completely dark, and there'd been

no communication from anyone outside. The exercise was meant to simulate an

emergency escape in-flight, and the breakdown of the escape vehicle's internal systems.

They'd been encouraged to recite poetry or sing to themselves. Trieka had memorized

huge sections of Hamlet and Macbeth, just because she liked them, and twenty or so psalms because of the positive content.

Trouble was, she doubted her current captors would hold to the twenty-four hour time

limit. Plus she'd had sanitary facilities in the simulated escape pod.

A sound outside her cramped prison jarred her out of her thoughts. She opened her mouth

to shout, then closed it. Might it be to her advantage to let them think she was still

unconscious? After a moment's thought, she opened her mouth again and shouted, "Hey!"

The worst they could do was take her out and torture her, and even then she'd at least get

some fresh air.

Light speared into the small, dark space around her. Trieka recoiled, squeezing her eyes

shut.

"You awake, Cavendish?" a voice asked from outside.

Carefully, she eased one eye partially open. She could see four narrow strips of bright

light, just above eye level. She'd been right, then--it was a locker.

"No, I'm talking in my sleep," she replied, her voice remarkably calm and amiable. "What the hell's going on?"

"We want to know where the disk is."

"What disk?"

Something slammed into the locker door. She flinched at the almost painful echo. "You

know what disk. The one Fairfax gave you."

"Fairfax? You mean that skinny, big-nosed, conceited, overbearing, rich idiot? He never

gave me anything but a strong urge to pop him in the face."

There was a pause, and the light blinked out. "We'll be back later. Hit the door twice if you want to talk before then."

"With what? My head?"

There was no answer. She leaned back against the back of the locker and closed her eyes.

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