(Twelve)
"He's asleep," Bruce whispered quietly and stepped away from the door. He went back to his spot on Valentin's bed and picked up his cards. The Clansmen, too, were playing a card game to pass the time. Well, two of them were. Joseph was working.
"How's it coming?" Valentin asked him.
Joseph was kneeling on the floor beside the General. He had his hands on the base of the iron bed leg where it was fastened to the floor. He was grunting softly and sweat dripped from his forehead to the floor. "Slowly, Master. This will take some time."
"Faster, then."
"My Lord. My power isn't that great, you know that. I was never good enough for the alpha team."
Joseph was the son of a pilot and mildly telekinetic. Emphasis on mild. He couldn't fly. He couldn't make Ristle or protective shields. What he could do was move objects with his mind if he concentrated hard enough. Most of the time he did it to amuse his friends while drinking. He would spin beer mugs or move their chairs so they'd fall onto their drunken ass while he busted up laughing. Now he was using his meager power to loosen the bolts that held the beds to the floor. The idea being that if they could remove enough bed legs without getting caught, they could be used as weapons if they had the opportunity to escape.
Joseph felt a sharp lance of pain stab through his brain. He grunted again, but the bolt came free. He leaned against the bed, exhausted. "I can do it, but it won't be today. This is taking too long."
Seth came up on the viewing screen suddenly. "Hey, guys."
Joseph almost dropped the bolt in surprise and swore silently. He should be getting used to this by now. Seth made a habit of checking in on them. He would pop up at irregular intervals hoping to catch them if they were up to something. So far, Seth had no idea what Joseph was doing. Joseph stood awkwardly and smoothed out his laces as if he'd only been tying up his boots. He sat down on the next bed and said nothing, that was Valentin's job.
"Freak," Valentin snarled to the young pilot on the screen. His voice was much more nasal and gravelly after Logan's latest adjustment to his face.
Seth was nonplused at the insult, he was here to work. "You guys want anything? I can have Henry bring you something from the galley." The Clansmen would no longer be allowed to eat in the galley, Logan's orders. It just wasn't worth the risk of another fight.
"We're fine, thanks. Maybe in an hour," Bruce suggested helpfully, just wanting the kid gone.
"All right. I'll check back," Seth said and clicked off.
Joseph rubbed his eyes. "That was too close."
"Get back to work," Valentin ordered gruffly.
"Yes, my Lord."
Joseph returned to the floor. He lay his hands on the next bolt. He closed his eyes. Half an hour later...another lance of pain, another loose bolt in his grip. Only ten more to go, four to each leg, two free already. A drop of blood fell from his nose. He ignored it and kept at it. Yeah, tomorrow definitely. Then he could work on the light strip that was the security screen to the door. Piece of cake.
To be continued in Breaking Point.