Chapter 2:

Captivity

(K+ for injuries)

Memo dictation start:

I was a fool to trust those treacherous Neopians. My time in captivity had damaged my judgement to the point where I actually believed their words. I am deeply ashamed and… (sound on the record that could be a shudder) …willingly submit my file for disciplinary procedures on my return if the Commander deems it necessary, although I sincerely HOPE this will not affect my promotion prospects.

In short, the claim that I would be released from my imprisonment has proved to be a lie. I should have suspected as much when this… apparatus of some kind was fastened around my neck in the entrance of the jail. It is a stiff fabric cord, attached to a metal disc with some symbols etched into it. Its purpose I have yet to figure out.

Meanwhile, it has become clear that my "liberation" from prison was merely a transfer to a different institution. My captors continue in their efforts to put me at ease, but to me they are merely servants of this inefficient and dishonourable planet, interchangeable and all alike…

"Melanie," the human repeated. "Think you can remember that? And this li'l Cybunny is Rikora Lee. She's just as pleased to meet you as I am."

The Korbat allowed his captors the minor triumph of a small nod. He had no time to keep going over banal introductions.

"Now then," Melanie continued, glancing across at Rikora, "what are we going to call you, huh? You need a name."

"I have no name," he repeated, stiffening his body. "I can tell you only a number."

"Yeah, I know. Saw it on your card. 7611…94… something, right? Well, we can't have that. I'm not yelling that up the stairs. We've got to decide on something to call you."

"Do as you wish," he told them coldly, leaning back on the couch. It was comfortable, and there were no obvious restraints on him. However, he had a strange feeling that if he tried to leave, these two outwardly amiable jailers would come after him.

"Well, look at who's the little ray of sunshine," Rikora sighed, giving him a critical glance. "At least try a little, can't you? We did just rescue you from the Pound. Greatest horror of a Neopet's life, stale omelettes and flat drinking water, all that stuff you read in the Neopian Times!"

"'Kora. Come on." Melanie leant over to ruffle her Neopet's fur, lowering her voice. "Lara called him the new kid, didn't she? He's probably still getting over… you know."

"All right." The Cybunny stretched and yawned. "It'll take us a while to think of something, anyway. Maybe we should ask my guild for ideas?"

The Korbat listened in silence, unsure what was happening. If this was an interrogation technique, it was the most vague and untargeted one he had ever heard, and he had no idea how he should react. The training sessions had included nothing like this. Did they really still think they were dealing with a regular criminal, a thief or a rebel, rather than a prisoner of war? It seemed the only explanation.

He could try to terrorise them into releasing him. Blackmail was acceptable by the terms of his mission. But mentioning his Leader, or the details of his commander and fleet… no, that would be unwise. He took a breath.

"The… individual responsible for me will certainly be trying to trace me soon," he said as levelly as he could, his gaze fixed icily on Rikora. Vague intimidation seemed the best idea at this point. "He will find me, no matter where I am. You would be advised to let me leave this place and meet up with him."

He had expected a reaction from the human and her pet, but not quite the one that he was seeing. As he finished speaking, their eyes met, not in terror or bewilderment but in something completely unforeseen-- recognition.

"I guess you were right, Melanie," Rikora managed to say, clasping her paws uncomfortably in her lap. "He really is still getting over it-- I mean--"

Melanie ran one hand through her hair, suddenly crestfallen. "I knew he was a bit shell-shocked, but I… never thought I'd have to deal with--"

They turned back, as one, to look at the Korbat.

"Denial."

Somehow, the combined force of their voices made him distinctly uneasy. Tapping the companion device surreptitiously under his wing (denial: the act of refusing to comply, the act of claiming an allegation untrue), he did his best to rally. "I don't know what you're talking about."

With another of the shared glances that were quickly coming to frustrate him, Melanie and Rikora crossed the room, sitting down at either side of him on the couch. The human wrapped her arms around him in a sudden grip that made him wish he'd trained harder in the martial arts.

"Sweetie." Her grasp was firm, but she didn't seem to want to hurt him. What was she trying to do? "I know this is hard for you. But Rosiebel at the Pound must have talked to you about this when you first checked in. Your owner... or whatever you called him. He… the chances are he isn't going to come for you, sweetie. That's why you were there."

The Korbat kept his cool expression, but let himself breathe a little more deeply. Now he knew the game. Cooperation. If they could convince him, as gently and sweetly as this, that no-one was ever coming for him… that he had been written off as dead after the shuttle had crashed… then he would lose all hope. All motivation. All reason to resist.

Protesting was no use. If he insisted that his fleet would come to find him, the devious human and her Cybunny would find some way to get the details about the "fleet" out of him… then work even harder to crush his spirit. No, the simplest course of action was…

"Perhaps you may be right," he acknowledged, resting his head on his wing. "It's true that I don't really know what's happening any more."

"Oh, sweetie." Melanie clutched him tighter, knocking some of the air from his lungs. "It'll be okay. We're here to help you, 'Kora and me. You'll get through this."

A good reaction, despite the restricting arm. He decided to push his luck. "I… would appreciate some time to myself," he hazarded.

"Oh, of course." The human girl loosened her grip. "Hey, 'Kora, will you show him to his room?"

So this was how it would be, he reflected. No doubt this was a deliberate contrast to the cramped cells he'd just left, a further incentive to compliance. He would be allowed to move around the building, as long as he behaved. That, at least, offered some scope for escape.

"Hey, are you all right?" Rikora stepped back onto the landing. "Why are you walking up those stairs? You've got wings, right?"

"Oh! Uh… yes." Curses. Force of habit. "Of course I have wings. I'll be with you in a moment."

Letting the Cybunny push the door open for him, he flapped half-heartedly into the room. It was markedly different to his berth on base; there was something he recognized as a bed, certainly, but it was covered in great swathes of ruffled material serving no obvious purpose. A single window looked out onto a small green area outside. On the bed sat a collection of strange miniature creatures, staring at him with unmoving beady black eyes. He recoiled. "What… what are those things? Are they watching me?"

Rikora looked at him pityingly. "You've really never seen a plushie before? No, of course they're not watching you. They're made of fabric and fluff, silly." She shook her head. "Your owner must've been a real jerk, never letting you see a plushie in your life and then not even telling you what was happening when he disowned you. Well, don't worry. Me and Melanie, we'll find someone much better for you. Promise."

*

Commander Batrien had always told his sub-lieutenant that a good operative, when stranded for any length of time in unfamiliar territory, examined the area for any useful materials. With these words in mind, the Korbat took in his new surroundings.

There were books on the shelves near the bed, and he took a moment to look at one. It was his first encounter with a book in paper, not digital, format, and he flicked through the pages curiously. The subject matter eluded him; it seemed to be entirely devoted to recounting the exploits of a Neopet he had never heard of, with no obvious moral or lesson, much less an explanation of what was supposed to be demonstrated by the long anecdote. With a shake of his head, he set the book down and continued his search.

A wooden stick, wider at one end than the other, sitting next to a spherical object that might have been a grenade, but was more likely to be a simple projectile. Weapons at last! There was a bag propped up next to the end of the bed, and he hurriedly packed the sphere away into it, laying the stick on the windowsill.

A strange green liquid in a plastic bottle. Some kind of potion? He squirted a little onto his wingtip and raised it to his mouth. The vile taste forced him to spit immediately, even though he'd tested hundreds of experimental potions in his time. Was this some kind of trick? No, the Neopians would have no reason to poison him before he had revealed any information, and either poison or truth serum would need to be swallowed. On closer inspection, he saw a faded paper label: HAIR GEL. He knew what hair was, though he himself had never possessed any. Presumably the potion would have had a different effect on him if he did.

That seemed to be the sum total of useful things in the room. He didn't imagine he'd have much use for the creepy, black-eyed "plushies". Putting his large ear against the door, he listened intently. Nobody seemed to be outside.

Raising the stick over his head, he smacked it against the window. The glass shattered, showering fragments across the floor. The gap was big enough for him to clamber out onto the ledge.

So far, so good. But the bag with the stick and sphere was still inside the room. He would have liked to leave it behind, but he was going to need weapons until he found his ship or made it back to safety. Reaching back through the broken window, he tried to pull it towards him.

"Seven-six-eleven? Are you all right?"

On the other side of the room, the human flung the door open. Startled by the sudden noise, the Korbat lost his balance and scrabbled for a foothold on the ledge. He toppled backwards helplessly, catching his wing on one of the jagged pieces of glass as he fell. The pain was hot and sharp, but he barely had a moment to register it before landing on the grass with a thud.

"Oh, my!" The human's voice floated down from above. "What in the world…?"

Head reeling, wing bleeding, he pulled himself desperately across the grass. He had to escape. There would never be such a good chance again. Leaving a trail of blood drops behind him, he dragged himself out of the grass, across the expanse of grey pavement. Voices rang in his ears from somewhere nearby, horrified and confused.

"What's that Korbat doing, Mama?"

"Oh, goodness! Somebody call Dr. Gelert at once!"

"Don't look, darling—"

"Is that blood? He's bleeding on my garden path!"

"Where is his owner? This is an outrage!"

The world had become dizzy and blurred. Though he kept trying to pull himself further along the street, he knew in his heart that he wasn't going to make it. Turning his head in the vague direction of the Neopians, he spat out a few defiant words. "You will never force me to cooperate. You stupid, blindly obedient, suboptimal creatures! Pathetic slaves of flimsy faeries! Be ashamed of your… your own…" He swallowed hard as his vision began to swim. "Your…"

"Out of the way! Let us through! That's our Korbat!"

There was a sound of running feet and paws, coming nearer and nearer. Something lifted him off the ground, and a soft, fluffy face pressed itself against him. "Oh, Fyora… are you okay? Is he okay, Melanie?"

"I don't know." There was something strange about the human's voice. He had expected triumph at recapturing her prisoner, but that wasn't quite it. He was sure he could figure out what it was if he could only… think straight…

"Shhh. It's okay." Rikora's paw touched him. "Don't try to move. I'll go get the doctor."

He tried to focus, but it was too much for him. The world turned from fuzzy, faint colour to black, and there was finally peace and quiet.

*

"…head injury and severe damage to one wing. He'll have trouble flying for some weeks, sadly, though I can give you medication to stop the wing from hurting. Keep him in a safe environment where he can't cause himself any further complications."

The Korbat opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. His wing felt like it was on fire, and he was horribly dizzy. He seemed to be back in the berth he'd seen earlier, lying in the superfluously ruffled bed.

"Keep him?" A strident voice cut through the calm. "Did I hear the doctor right? You're going to keep that disruptive creature?"

"Well, for a while, Mrs. Harner." The human's voice was quieter, and less confrontational. "Like all the others."

All the others? So despite her apparent incompetence, he was not her first prisoner. Yet he hadn't seen any others in the building. For a while. What had happened to the others? What would happen to him, for that matter, once it became clear she would get nothing out of him?

"That Korbat," the loud voice went on, "got blood on my little Quiggle's shoes, and called her all manner of horrid names. Quite honestly, Melanie, I don't know where you get those hopeless cases. You should take him back where you found him, and bring home a cute little Aisha or a charming Shoyru. A well-mannered girl with a name that's actually attractive, like your Rikora Lee. It would make your life so much easier."

"And what about his life?" Melanie sounded angry at the unseen speaker, angrier than the Korbat had heard her yet. "Who's going to take a number-name yellow Korbat with a bad attitude? Well?"

"I just think you'd be best advised to reconsider. I've lived in this neighbourhood longer than you have, Melanie, and I'd like to think we all play a part in taking care of it. But I know for a fact that all you're doing by keeping that pet is fostering malice around here." The voice moved further into the distance. "Good afternoon."

"Melanie, I think I saw him twitch." A pink and white blur at his side moved, and turned out to be Rikora. "You don't think he heard any of that, do you…?"

He'd had trouble recognising many of the human's emotions, but this one was easy; he could tell for a fact that she was still seething as she spoke. "I certainly hope not. The nerve of some people! With him lying right here, too!"

The Korbat tried to remain silent and still, but the ache in his wing made him wince for a moment. Realising it was no good pretending to be asleep, he made the best of the situation and feigned gradually waking up. Rikora's anxious face came into slightly better focus as he forced his eyelids to open all the way.

"I think he is waking up." Melanie took a deep breath. "Well, let's not let people upset us. She's given me a really good idea for solving one problem, anyway."

"Oh?" Rikora twitched an ear. "What's that?"

"What did Mrs. Harner say we'd be doing if we kept the Korbat?" Melanie asked. Close up, he could see a smile playing across her face.

"She said we'd be fostering malice in the—" Rikora stopped. "Oh!"

"What d'you think?" Melanie's smile turned into a full-on grin. "Given his attitude and all?"

"I think it's perfect." Rikora leant down. "Hey there, guy who scared us. Nice to see you've decided to join us in the waking world again."

The statement meant nothing to the Korbat, and so he remained silent.

"We've got news," the Neopet went on. "We think we've decided what to call you. While you're with us, anyway." She smiled. "You're… Malice."

Under the pretence of adjusting his pillow, he gave the companion device the briefest of taps. Malice: the quality of threatening evil, pleasure in the misfortune of another.

"So what do you say?" Melanie laid a hand on his head, making him cringe with momentary pain. Obviously, refusing to accept the new label was not an option. "How do you feel about answering to that?"

"Malice." He hesitated. "It will do."

"Super." Melanie turned away from the bed. "Now, I'm going to make you some dinner. Today must have been a very strange day for you. Promise you won't smash any more of my windows with baseball bats?"

It seems I have finally been recognised for the enemy that I am. While I have no desire to be publicly paraded as an adversary, there is a certain amount of relief in knowing that my allegiances are not too invisible for the Neopians to notice. As long as I am forced to stay here and recuperate, I may as well try to gather some intelligence about the very confusing situation I find myself in.

Over and out.