CHAPTER TWELVE: Can A Phoenix Have Scars?
PART THREE…Confessional …"Vash the Stampede?"
The interrogating officer shook his head. "I'm tired of hearing those ridiculous stories. As a plant you surely don't buy into that nonsense; plants have high intelligence quotients."
Vanessa didn't laugh. She sat pressed against the wall on the floor, across from the two men. The room was comfortable and she had been well fed. However, there was no furniture or décor to this cell of hers, and though it had a view of the stars and a soft, cushioned floor, it was completely devoid of objects.
"I don't mean to be rude, miss. But we're having difficulty putting all of this information togeth-"
"He existed, and he destroyed that portion of the fifth moon from Gunsmoke's surface, and all of that massive damage and millions of deaths were, in fact, his fault. He was a plant," she snapped, exhausted and offended. Her glasses hardly hid the deep grooves in her cheeks, below her eyes. She had slept but a few hours since 'admitting' herself, unable to rest for fear that someone may assault her. Death she had expected, at least partially. But this uneasily friendly act was frightening. Without warning, she'd suddenly found herself faint for fear of rape again. They hadn't laid a hand upon her since that colonel had led her to her first holding cell. But paranoia like that dies slowly. "He was a plant and he killed millions, and he died when he used all of his power and his hair turned black. He died, and I knew him, and he showed me that I could form a weapon, too. But mine was partially removed, like I said, and when he formed his arm a little at my core, in my back, I could make the weapon."
"And your ears and back and teeth are deformed from the bulb," he recited from memory. "I hope you understand this questioning. We're put in an awkward situation here, because, as you know, we're still five weeks from touchdown, and-"
"Even if I claim I can't destroy anything, you can't chance doing a thing with me, for fear I'd lied and will blow up everything, right?" Vanessa sighed. She wasn't sure what she expected anymore. A change maybe. An end to the fear. She wanted to shout to the mountaintops (whatever those look like) that she was a plant. Forget kinship and prejudice and equality, she just wanted it out in the open. There really wasn't a thing to gain, except an excuse to stop grinding her teeth in her sleep in anticipation of being found out.
"Aren't you going to eat your lunch?" he asked politely.
She shrugged, expressionless.
The man looked genuinely concerned. "All of our passengers are important to us. You are especially important, as someone of rare and special talent."
This elicited a tiny grin upon her face. "A bold comment."
"And why not?" he replied warmly. "A plant of your wisdom is above human trickery, am I correct?"
"No." A dry, cracked laugh flew towards the ceiling as her head tipped back against the wall. She caught her breath after a moment and muttered, "If it was true, I wouldn't be here." The comedy left her as she scanned the man again. The metal decorations and attachments were gone from his uniform. Any and everything that could be used as a weapon or suicide device was kept from her. They thought she was insane. Or, at the very least, a bit unstable. They wanted her alive.
"We can show you the results to your exams if you'd like."
She shook her head. "No surprises, I'm sure."
He smiled slightly. "I suppose not."
"You haven't looked for my friends, have you?" she accused in a whisper.
"No," he replied, too quickly.
This was a bad sign. Vanessa's chest tightened uncomfortably. "They don't know anything. And if they..." Her voice cracked, and she coughed before continuing. "The man I was with…he…We were pregnant. It didn't survive. Probably because of the species problem. But if he…it was bestiality. Technically. That's…Please don't let anyone know. Please just let them think I'm gone. They can forget about me this way."
"I doubt we'd need to contact them," he replied, not very reassuring in words but gentle in tone. "We just want you to be comfortable. We'd like to help you."
"Help me do what?"
"We're not sure yet. Neither are you, I suppose, since you won't give us any requests about yourself." He smiled again, in that way a therapist does to a patient he'd roll his eyes and joke about later on. "But please eat. It's not poisoned, I can assure. Now, would you like to talk some more, or would you like to be alone?"
"Alone with a canvas and paints. But I already know what that's not going to happen," she answered before he could explain. "Since that's not a possibility, stay and tell me what's been excluded from the history texts. What happens to a plant on Earth?" she demanded more than asked.
He nodded soberly. "I'll be sure to get you whatever information I can as soon as possible. But it's rather a mystery to us as well. There are plenty of laws on file regarding your species, but it's been at least three hundred years since a case has come up in the media. So, well, regarding your question specifically, I don't know what would happen if you attempted to enter Earth society. But we have time to consider that. Get some rest, and I'll ask them to bring you another warm meal. Something nicer, perhaps?"
The two men left her to her thoughts. She stared down at her fingernails for a while. After an hour or two she opened the tray and picked at the food, mainly just drinking some juice to ease her throat. It was too hard to force food down a sore throat, especially when that throat was tight with curses and wails she wouldn't loose. Vanessa curled onto her side on the pillow-soft floor and pulled the hem of her dress to study the threads a bit. Her eyes tired and she closed them, picking her nose a little in the meantime. Eventually she relaxed and fell into a tossing slumber.
Colonel Turlington wondered if any of the other superiors in the observation room had noted that little tidbit. She'd spoken of a plant she knew on that desert planet. One who'd used his destructive capacity so much without being stopped. He'd used that evil power until he died. Until his hair turned black, and he died.
The colonel was a learned man when it came to the mystical science of the plants, but he had never heard of a plant dying from blackened hair. Before they could come to that, they would've been stopped…