Humped

So, no big surprise, the Feds got there first. Which, y'know, I ain't all that fussed 'bout, considerin' if Seana'd got there first, she woulda handed over just 'bout everything short 'f the keys to the city to get me back. 'f it'd been a matter of just shootin' my dad in the face, I woulda had no quarrel 'bout it, but Seana had too much honor, and even as much as she prol'ly wanted to kill my Pa, she wouldn'ta assassinated him. Leastways, I don't reckon she woulda.

Ironically, Pa'd sent that cortex message to the Feds to add a bit of urgency, sorta to light a fire under my friends' asses and give 'em incentive to be a bit more generous 'bout their offers, as it were, and it sorta turned right 'round and bit him on the ass. They marched their purple bellies right on in and demanded I be handed over into Alliance custody. When Pa asked 'bout his reward, he was answered with laughter and told, "Your reward is us not arresting you for extortion. Don't look so glum, Mr. MacLaren, you should feel very proud to have aided the Alliance in the capture of a dangerous fugitive."

That was the part that made me sit up a bit straighter. Me? Dangerous?! Okay, well, yeah, I am a bit. But still, gorram, the 'lliance didn't have no way of knowin' that. Alexandra MacLaren supposedly shot a man, her ex-fiance, in the back eleven years ago, didn't even gorram kill him, then dropped off the face of all existence but for her wanted poster. What in the world made the Feds think she was a dangerous person was way beyond my comprehension, but I had this sneakin' suspicion I'd be findin' out sooner or later, and more'n likely sooner.

So, they took me. Clapped me in irons and everything. Bothered me, they look on my sister's face, like she somehow knew they was haulin' me off for a crime I didn't commit. I didn't say anything to anyone, but I tried to give my Ma a look that'd let her know, let her see how much I loved her.

And then, I was bein' shoved in the shuttle and rushed back into town, to the local Fed station. It was sorta uneventful. Nobody said a word, they maintained radio silence the whole way, and it was all me admirin' the scenery out the window 'steada cursin' myself for bein' a gorram fool.

Soon as we got there, they tossed me in an interrogation room all by my lonesome and let me cool my heels for a few hours. Maybe wanted to see what I'd do. No doubt they had some gorram psychologist sittin' there on the other side of that glass analyzin' every gorram little thing I did. So I sat there and started composin' haikus in my head, thinkin' of Seana and how to best calm myself down. And when I got one I liked, I doodled it all across the table with the pencil that was sittin' there all by its lonesome.

Freedom is a bird
Or maybe a butterfly
Flaps wings to exist

Let 'em analyze that.

Still nothin'. So I sat there and I thought 'bout everything't'd been goin' on lately, 'bout all my friends, 'bout Belize, 'bout Td, 'bout Duncan, 'bout Sabrina and Seana, Alison, Nack and Laur and Lorie, Opine... Just everyone. I started daydreamin' 'bout situations which never took place, if only to give myself a glazed, sub-human look. Again, let 'em analyze that.

After... Well, I couldn't rightly say how long it was, cuz I had no way of knowin', but it had to've been more'n several hours... they sent somebody in. Creepy man, oily. I mean, not on the surface, but... there was somethin' 'bout him, like his aura had this coatin' of pollution. Made me want to scrub every inch of my body even bein' near him. Said his name was Perkins. Didn't say if there was a Mr. to it, or what his job was. Looked like a gorram paper pusher to me, carefully groomed and clothed, glasses, palid complexion, like he'd just oozed out into the light'a day from under some big rock. Started askin' me questions.

Where have you been the past eleven years?
What have you been doing?
What ships have you been on?
What planets have you been on?
What were you doing back at your father's house last night?
Have you been using the alias 'Imrhien Fargis'?

Shit.

"Immer-what?" He'd pronounced it phonetically, not realizin' it was a Gaelic word. Immer-hine, he'd said. So I tried to play dumb and give him a confused frown. "Who in their right mind'd choose a name like that?" I asked him. "Sounds like the wrong end of a cow or somethin'." I was tryin' to cover up the grimace that always seemed to pop up whenever anyone called me that.

"See, Miss MacLaren," he answered, his voice slimy, "We've been interested in Miss Fargis for some time now, and as far as we can tell, she appeared about the same time you disappeared. Also, there is a striking similarity in how the two of you look." Triple shit with shit on top. This was not good.

I scrambled. "So there's some woman with an ugly name who looks like me. You asked my Ma if I was a twin? Or checked to see if I got any cousins? Reckon I do, but I don't recognize that Immer-whatsit name at all." I put as much disdain in my voice as I could, which, considerin' it's me, was a lot. "What'd she do, kill a Fed?"

The man, Perkins, looked at me for a moment, almost like i was an interestin' bug, then smiled. Weren't no happy smile, or a grimace, neither. More like that or a grinnin' cat who's got a strugglin' mouse under his paw. "Sure, she's an outlaw. The Alliance would like nothing more than to lock her up for the rest of her life. Fortunately for her, our, uh, R&D department has an interest in her that could prove more useful than keeping her behind bars."

Looked like x0x0 hadn't wrecked that transmission after all. Leastways, not the original. Or maybe not 'fore they got it out there. Or maybe she'd missed someone't knew somethin'. Or could be the Lieutenant, or Captain, or whatever the hell he is these days'd 'fessed up to what'd happened 'tween us his own self. Wouldn't put it past him. Bastard.

Oh, right. I was supposed to be lookin' confused and dubious. Right. I was humped. 'Specially if they had any samples of my DNA from back when they grabbed me from Blackburne and put that thing in my head. There'd be no question then. Reckon he had the same thought.

"We will be needing to take a blood sample, Miss MacLaren." He said it with an almost sneer, like he knew I was lyin'. "That way, there won't be any doubt, one way or the other." And he came at me, just like that, a syringe suddenly in his hand. Weren't no point in fightin' him, really. I could either submit to him and not get the shit kicked outta me, or I could fight him and end up on the bottom of a dogpile of Feds't had no qualms 'bout bein' rough with prisoners. I'd have to thank Td someday for teachin' me how to submit.... Y'know, if I ever saw him again.

Calm was the only thing that'd keep me from screamin'. So, I took a deep breath and searched for serenity, and he drew my blood. He almost looked disquieted as he did it. Reckon he was expectin' me to fight him, and maybe my not strugglin' gave him a doubt 'bout whether Alexandra MacLaren and Imrhien Fargis were the same person.

When he was done, he packed up and walked out with a simple, "We'll get the analysis results in a few hours, Miss MacLaren. Until then, enjoy your stay. Either way, you'll be with us for a while."

They left me in the room for probably another hour, though it coulda been ten minutes for all I know. I was so lost in my own thoughts't I wasn't payin' no attention. Barely registered it when a couple armed guards came by to escort me to my holdin' cell.

What'd they want with me? And what were they gonna do to me? And more importantly, how the hell was I gonna get the hell outta this?

I laid on my cot, curled up in a ball of angst and asked myself all these questions and others 'til nothin' made sense no more, just waitin' for 'em to come back for me. I was so humped.