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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 the Androvia."
"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 me Proof! " She was getting agitated again. "If this isn't a studio made to look like a ship, show
me what's outside of it."
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"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 name barbarian," 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 are not helping, 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 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]