The Plan
11 May 2016Terra Sheer
This is the part where I'd like to tell you I've got some master plan; that it's all just a matter of time and patience before all the details click into place.The truth is, rather, that this is where I screw up. When the whole world is bigger than you, stronger than you, and the only advantage you have is your wits, you grow to trust that. You hone those talents to a fine edge, and you rely on them ... sometimes to the point of hubris. You come to overestimate your own abilities, and those are the mistakes that cost you.
As I go to the door to meet Lizard again, I think I've got it well in hand. I've played the psyche game often enough. I'm good at it, and Lizard is a bleeding idiot. All I've got to do is get him talking, and he doesn't stand a chance. But he doesn't talk. He doesn't even slow down. He just drives that shock stick straight between the bars and into my chest.
I could lie and say it hurt. But it's more like someone flipped a switch, and my memory of the next few seconds goes dark. I remember tumbling. When I come to, my head hurts, so I suppose I must have hit it on something. But the biggest thing is, at first, I think I've been struck blind, because there's something enormous blocking out the light from the main room.
It's Tiny, up against the cage door, shaking the daylights out of it. Lizard is a few paces away, brandishing his shock stick but staying conspicuously out of reach.
"Back off!" he screeches. "Don't make me make you! Back off, you circus freak! Hey, Sam! Sam, get in here! I think our little man just grew a pair!" Rising desperation makes his voice shrill. "Hey Sam!"
I pull myself out of a fetal tuck, flail to stop my tumble. Tiny lets out an animal howl and thrashes against the door. He's going to tear it off its hinges any minute.
Meatbrick trundles in, looking sleepy. Scar is right behind him. The three square off on the opposite side of the room for a moment. Then Scar pushes past his crewmen, crosses to a radio receiver on the near wall. He picks it up, thumbs its transmit switch and brings it to his mouth. Then he stops. Looks at Tiny. And Tiny freezes, still as stone.
"You don't really want to do this," Scar says simply, matter of fact -- like all the words he might have said were all said long ago.
Tiny lets go of the door; jerks away like it's made of snakes.
"One call," Scar goes on. "All I've got to do is make one call, and they'll send your Little Doll to you in boxes. Are we clear?"
Well, I guess I was right about them holding someone over him. Damn. I was hoping he was lying for sympathy. This complicates matters.
Scar puts the receiver back on its hook. He pushes off across the room toward the cell door. Tiny moves back, almost reflexively. They hold each other's gazes for a long while, wordless threats passing in the charged silence. Then Scar looks at me.
"We'll be meeting up with a collector ship soon. They'll be taking you to Harma, for auction. If you stop causing me trouble, I'll put in a good word for you. But if not...."
He glances back at Lizard. Lizard smirks.
"Gloves off," Scar says.
It's probably a bad idea to taunt him. But I just can't help myself. "Aren't you still worried about mussing up the merchandise?"
"It'll heal," he says on the way out. The others follow him, Lizard chuckling under his breath.
Quiet settles, but for the heavy sound of Tiny's breathing and my own pounding heartbeat. The ship creaks around us. It's strange, how much noise there can be in the quiet.
"Hey." I huddle in the corner by the cot, braced against the spinning in my head. "Tiny. You okay?"
There are tears in his eyes. His jaw works, his fists pump, but he doesn't say anything.
"He's bluffing," I say. "If she's out system, there's no way he can get a signal to her captors quickly. They'd have to hire a courier. We could intercept--"
"Won't do any good," he says. "They're everywhere."
"No, they're not. I've been everywhere. There aren't that many of them. They've just got you brainwashed."
I bite my lip; taste blood. I must have bit it harder when he hit me with the shock stick.
"Look, Tiny. You could break out of here in a heartbeat. You could overwhelm any one of them, maybe two at a time. Why haven't you tried?"
"What would I do next?" he asks. "I can't fly."
"Yeah? Well ... I can."
He meets my eyes. Maybe there's a trace of hope there. It's hard to tell amidst all the dead emptiness of a broken man. He's afraid. Deeply. Profoundly. But there's still some small will to hope. At least, I try to convince myself of that as I sit there staring him down.
"Look," I lie. "I've got a plan. All I need for you to do is make a move when the opportunity presents itself. You can do that for me, can't you? For her?"
He looks away. His jaw clenches.
"We'll find your Little Doll," I say. "I promise." I'm digging a hole I have no idea whether I'll be able to climb out of, heaping in one promise after another that I'm not sure I can keep. But it's better than surrendering.
Tiny nods -- a nearly imperceptible tilt of the head. But it's a start.
"Okay." I nod, too. "Okay. We're in this together, then. So this is what I'm going to need you to do...."
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