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Her memories of everything prior to her arrest were a blur, as though the tangled recollection of a dream. There were times when it seemed that it seemed her former life had all been a dream and that only the pain of her present condition was real.
"I think therefore, I am," Susan Antonelli whispered, a smile of amusement crossed her lips briefly. Susan had never imagined that the teachings of centuries, and in some cases millennia's, old philosophers would ever help her come to terms with a bad situation. Of course, she had also never imagined that she would ever be arrested and spend three weeks imprisoned on the Mothership either. Mentally reconstructing lectures from her various classes to pass the long hours and days helped pass the time. She had often told her roommate Delia that philosophy was a useless class, now she realized that she had simply failed to understand it, or maybe she had just never invested the time in trying to understand it as she did now, or perhaps she needed her world view tipped over in order to comprehend someone else's.
Perhaps it was a good thing she'd have to repeat the class, as by her calculations it had been three weeks since the election and there was no way she could make everything up even if they let her out within the next five minutes. Three weeks, assuming the Volunteers were not deliberately playing with or altering their since of time, was too many missed lectures, assignments, and exams to make up.
Susan gave herself another swift mental kick for leaving her watch on her desk, then laid down to consider the ceiling again. She had already compared it to the water, the glittery blue cover of a notebook she had once had, blue seaweed, and certain panels of leaded stained glass from the windows of her family's church among other things. She closed her eyes and whispered a quick prayer before trying to sleep. Sleep also helped pass the time.
She was jolted awake after an indeterminate period of time by someone shaking her. She forced her eyes open and stared blearily at one of the other prisoners, a man she belatedly recognized as a doctor named Mike Salinger.
"Volunteers have been culling prisoners from the other cells. They'll be here soon." He said in a voice so low it seemed the rustle of his clothing as he moved to alert the man lying next to her was louder.
Susan glanced down the corridor and could see the now familiar forms of Volunteers hovering by a cell several meters away. She felt a chill spread through her body as she watched them pull four people out and herd them down the hallway toward the ID portal used to transport prisoners. As the hum of the portal subsided, she scooted over to a corner and wrapped her arms around her knees, hiding her face, anything to avoid attracting attention. No one knew exactly what happened to those who were taken away, but from the expressions of malicious glee on the faces of the Volunteers it was not something anyone wished to discover first hand.
Yesterday, or maybe the day before that, Dr. Salinger told her of a prisoner in his previous cell who had been returned after being culled. The young man's black hair was plastered to his head with perspiration and his skin seemed leeched of all color. He had collapsed to the floor like a wet towel when the Volunteers pushed him into the cell. Salinger had gently rolled the man onto his back with the help of a woman prisoner, the man was barely conscious and could not stop himself from shaking. His pupils were dilated and there were bruises like macabre bracelets encircling his wrists.
Susan shivered involuntarily. Salinger had been unwilling to go into further detail or say anything of what the young man had said had been done to him. He had only mentioned the man when she had asked if Salinger knew anything about her roommate Delia Jenner. From the way Delia had reacted to her arrest and the attitude of the Volunteers, Susan had a shrewd notion that her friend would also be picked up during the crackdown.
"I couldn't get anything out of him for days," Salinger said, shaking his head and rubbing his growing brown beard absently. "He told me his name was Ryan, and he kept mentioning someone called Delia. I have no way to be sure his Delia and your friend are one and the same," the doctor shrugged wearily.
"Delia is not a common name," Susan noted.
"No, it isn't." Salinger concurred in a distant tone.
Susan now wondered if Delia had also been culled and if that was how she met Ryan, and if she herself was about to learn what happened to those taken away during the now daily ritual.
She heard the measured approach of the Volunteers as they neared the cell and stole a glance. Five Volunteers, none of whom she had seen before, and a man with dark hair wearing a very expensive suit that she knew she had seen on the news, though his name escaped her. She found herself pulled onto her feet by two Volunteers and shoved out into the corridor, slamming into Salinger and another prisoner.
"Come on," the Volunteers ordered, half dragging the bewildered and frightened trio to the portal.
They were pushed onto the platform as the implant pulled out a gold pocket watch and checked it. He nodded to the Volunteer and everything vanished in a whirl of light and energy.
Susan did not realize that she had closed her eyes until she was pulled off the platform and unceremoniously shoved into another cell, identical to the one she had just left, with the others. A faint hum told her the virtual glass barrier had been engaged.
Beyond the virtual glass was a room that made Susan, Salinger, and the other man, Patrick, stare in abject horror. It was unmistakably a lab.
Salinger looked away first.
"Don't ask me what that equipment is for." He whispered in a strangled voice. "You don't want to know and I don't want to tell you. If I told you I'd have to think about it, and my sanity is wearing very thin right now."
"We won't ask." Patrick said softly. "Right?" He looked at Susan.
"Ignorance is bliss." Susan agreed.
"I believe that you are mistaken, Ms. Antonelli." A voice said from behind them. The trio slowly turned around to see the implant observing them. "Fear of the unknown is often worse that the reality, so allow me to enlighten you."
"Why bother and who exactly are you?" Patrick asked in a tone laced with a defiance that his posture denied.
"My name is Ronald Sandoval, I am Zo'or's protector, attach?and the man who holds your fates in the palm of my hand. There is no need for you become worked up over your surroundings. I have plans for all three of you, and losing Dr. Salinger to the nervous breakdown or heart attach he seems on the brink of is not amongst them."
"What sort of 'plans'?" Susan asked.
"Very simple. I need three people who are confirmed Resistance sympathizers, and by your arrest you have been confirmed as Resistance sympathizers, to participate in a little project for me. You will be released upon its completion."
"What kind of project?" Patrick demanded, his gaze darting fearfully to the faces of his fellow prisoners.
"I know that none of you are actually members of the Resistance." He began, holding up a hand to silence them as he continued to speak. "However, your activities are enough to consider you sympathetic to their cause, a consideration that will be heightened by your present circumstances."
"What if we don't go along with whatever it is you want us to do?" Patrick asked. Susan noticed that he was sweating and though he was obviously trying to control it, trembling.
Sandoval smiled down at him. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a global and turned it so they could see the images on its small screen. "Mr. Reilly's brother and sister-in-law, don't worry we know she is expecting and are taking good care of both her and the baby, its a girl by the way. Dr. Salinger's eldest son, and Ms. Antonelli's roommate. All of whom might come find themselves in unfortunate situations should you fail to cooperate, and cooperate fully."