Page 8 of Warrior's Captive
“Please remain and await instructions,” a computerized voice requested politely.
Vivian turned, heart sinking. She’d hoped never to see thekheteragain.
She strode towards Vivian, long limbs slender in her medical skinsuit. Like praying mantis legs. “Vivian, I’m glad I caught you. I was on rounds and missed your discharge. For some reason the paperwork wasn’t routed through me.”
Thekheter’sattempt at a pleasant wide smile looked incongruous as usual. It didn’t reach her staring, unblinking eyes.
“Perhaps we could step to the side, Vivian.”
Why did she keep saying Vivian’s name? Some psychological attempt to create rapport?
“Ms. Huang, please,” Vivian said politely, evading the outstretched arm.
The wide smile faltered. “What?”
“I prefer to be addressed by my family name. Ms. Huang. Forgive me. We don’t know each other well enough for personal names.” Even government officials addressed the lowest tier adult citizens by their last name. Using a first name without permission was a subtle condescension.
“Of . . . course. Ms. Huang. I wanted to talk to you before you discharged, please excuse me for taking up your time. Come with me.”
Thekheterspoke with casual authority, as if she expected Vivian to automatically follow along. It was a neat trick, but Vivian was no child.
“Please excuse me,” Vivian said. “I prefer to remain here. I have a few moments before I must depart.”
The false smile faded. “Ms. Huang, I’m concerned. You’ve taken advice from theBdakhun, who is well intentioned, but as she is a royal she is hardly in touch with the realities of day-to-day life.”
Vivian remained silent, refusing to be drawn into what was probably intended to be a conversational trap.
Thekheter’sbrow drew down. “I’d like you to reconsider your birth options. I have a surgical suite and am prepared to quickly and painlessly remove the fetus and place it immediately into the care of a well situated Yadeshi couple. You could even meet them, if you like.”
Vivian wondered if Ibukay knew the doctor was part of the trafficking circle. There was literally no other reason, once Vivian put all the behavior clues together, why she would be so insistent on taking custody of Vivian and the baby.
“I appreciate the offer,” Vivian said. “Ibukay is expecting me to check in shortly, and if I miss the check in she will send security. I don’t want to waste their time like that when I’m clearly in no danger.”
Vivian spoke slowly, emphasizing key words, hoping the subtext of her meaning was clear without conveying overt threat. Criminal behavior would not go unpunished.
Despite her relative assurance that she was safe in such a public locale, and she had her comm on to signal Ibukay as needed, sweat broke out on her chest as a wave of anxious heat flooded her. She hadn’t processed the memories of her kidnapping, mostly because they were shrouded by whatever drug she’d been given to induce unconsciousness. She wasn’t ready to process them now. Was there any point in adding more trauma to her already tired mind?
But she’d promised herself she would begin to practice bravery, to protect herself and her . . . responsibility. What would a woman with courage now do? She didn’t have tobebrave, she only had to go through the motions. The actions of being brave would yield the same results.
“You look flushed, Vivian. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll order you a nutrient enhanced beverage and you can sit and rest? Security, requesting an escort—”
“No!” Vivian rarely raised her voice, but she did it now. A woman with courage would forcefully advocate for herself, resist. Would bring attention to the situation and hope a bystander would intervene. And be prepared to use force if no one stepped up to help.
She shunted aside a lifetime of training to remain composed, to not draw attention, to bepolitebecause any resistance would give the government an excuse—and instead channeled her anger at having her wishes pushed aside like she was nothing. Like she wasn’t even a person.
Vivian took a step away from thekheter.
“I’m not going with you.” The marks on her skin began to pulse in time with her increasing heartbeat. They warmed, but she focused on her adversary. “I’ve been discharged from medical care, and you have no legal right to detain me.” She didn’t know whether that was true, but she was guessing. “BdakhunIbukay and her Head of Security, Vykhan, have given me strict instructions and I intend to follow them. If you plan to interfere—”
“Vivian, I don’t understand why you’re so hostile. You are clearly experiencing a post traumatic episode.” She furrowed her brow. “I’m only trying to help you.”
She reached out and took Vivian’s wrist—
—and jumped back, exclaiming in shock as she cradled her burned hand. The jolt of energy that flared from Vivian’s marks heated her skin enough she thought it might burn. Could . . . were the markshissing? That low buzz of sound had to be in her head but thekheterstared at the uncoiling, burning tattoos wide-eyed.
“What are they doing?” Vivian asked, keeping her voice calm. Hissing tattoos wasn’t the worst thing she’d been through in the last several months. She eyed thekheterstonily. As long as they weren’t trying to kill her, she could deal with them later.
“That’s not possible,” the Yadeshi woman said. Fury enveloped her expression, and she straightened, the false demeanor of helpful professional fading. “You’re coming with me.”
