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Authors: Tam Linsey

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Is this you?

The girl might not have many words yet, but if she was already thinking of herself in terms of a convert, she might be ready for the gift of conversion.

Rhomy nodded, a fierce grin on her face, and held out her hand. Tula handed her a sweet. She

d have to spend some time with Rhomy, once she

d seen to the family.

After leaving protein canisters with the children, she continued past the row of empty cages to the cell with the family. The smell of urine emanated from the cage, undoubtedly from the unswaddled baby. She

d have to get a cleanup crew in here. Why had no one thought to offer diapers? So many techs considered the prisoners animals.

Both adults rose, the woman to the front with her hand out asking for the canister, the man back in the center of the small area. Seeing him up close instead of on a monitor reinforced how big he was, head and shoulders taller than most cannibals, who tended to be small and wiry.

Tula handed a container to the woman and said in Haldanian,

Food.

The woman ignored her and scuttled to a far corner to set down the baby before drinking greedily. According to the techs, the man had been giving his protein drinks to the woman. Tula looked him in the eye and held up the canister.

You must be hungry.

This time she spoke Cannibal.

He stood with arms akimbo, blanket draped over one shoulder and under the other arm to hide his body, his pale blue eyes creased into worried lines. She took a small step back at the sight of his eyes. It was like looking in a mirror. Blue eyes were rare among Haldanians, and all but non-existent among the cannibals. Mo loved her unique coloring, and for the first time she thought she understood why.
Exotic
. She watched the stranger

s chest rise and fall in tensely measured breaths.


I

m not going to hurt you. You need to eat.

She held the canister through the bars.

The man didn

t move.

She put the protein drink back on the tray and lifted his notebook from the surface.

You like pictures?

He started forward and then froze. She set the tray and the notebook on the floor outside the cage and unrolled a child

s gamma pad from the pocket of her lab coat. The device lit up when she tapped the screen. With slow, exaggerated movements, she dragged a finger over the broad surface, leaving a long curved mark. The whole time she moved, she watched the man

s face. His attention flickered between her face and her hands. Again, slowly, she lifted her finger and made circles for eyes and another larger one for a nose.


Would you like to try?

She brushed her palm over the screen and the lines cleared,
then
she lowered the sheet to the floor inside the cell.

The female cannibal had not been interested in the activity until Tula set the gamma pad inside the cage. Now the woman dashed forward and snatched the item from the floor. Both Tula and the man watched as the woman turned it over in her hands, sniffed it, put a corner in her mouth to bite it. Luckily the nuvoplast was resistant to abuse.

With a disgusted look at Tula the woman threw the gamma pad to the floor and approached the bars with her eye on the man

s full canister.


No, this is his.

Tula picked up the canister and pointed to the man.

The woman spoke for the first time.

Hungry.

New prisoners felt like they were constantly hungry. The manufactured protein drinks were standard Haldanian fare - amino acids, vitamins, and minerals providing complete nutrition to a person who could create carbohydrates out of sunlight. Outsiders required many times the intake of calories, and Tula was endlessly fighting the restrictions the Conversion Department imposed on potential converts. Their theory was if the prisoner became hungry enough, they would convert. Tula maintained that a well-fed prisoner was a happy convert. The sweets she provided the prisoners came out of her own pocket money.

The Conversion Department

s bottom line was if someone took too long to convert, they were not worth feeding.


What is your name?

she asked the woman.


Awnia. Give me.


Awnia. My name is Tula.

She watched the woman

s face to see how the introduction registered.

Focus still on the canister, the woman repeated,

Hungry.

On the bed, the baby started to fuss. As if remembering the child was hers, the woman backed up, lifted the infant.

Tula turned to the man and pointed to her chest.

Tula.

His face flushed as his gaze wandered to her chest and then darted to the ceiling.


What is your name?

She couldn

t understand his excessive tension.
Perhaps because he feared for the woman and child?
Sticking the protein canister between the bars, Tula allowed the woman to approach and snatch it from her, but it made no difference in the man

s stance.

She pointed to the gamma pad on the floor of the cell.

Draw.

The man

s blue eyes shifted to look at the gamma pad, and then as if making a decision, he pointed to his notebook.

She considered giving him the pages. But it was against policy. Pointing to the gamma pad again, she repeated,

Draw.

Panting, he bent and picked up the gamma pad. Nimble fingers darted over the screen and then he turned the nuvoplast to show her. On the surface was a three-dimensionally rendered cell with a propped-open door.

Lass mich raus.

The language opened something within her.
A fissure that ruptured and then sealed almost as quickly.
Heart racing, she swallowed, throat tight. She wanted to run away, and she wasn

t sure why. The desperation of his words struck a chord in her she couldn

t ignore. She looked at the picture again.

Let you out?


Aus. Frei.

He pointed to the locked door.


Free.

She spoke under her breath. There was no doubt now that he was the creator of the drawings in the paper notebook.
I need to get him a better gamma pad.


Bitte. Lassen sie mich frei.


You are safe in here. Safe.

He approached the bars and rattled off several sentences she couldn

t understand.

At a loss, Tula looked at the woman, who was wiping the last of the protein residue from the canister with her fingers.

Awnia. What is he saying?

Throwing the container to the bed, Awnia put the baby to her breast and leaned back to nurse.


Awnia.

The woman focused a sleepy glare at her.

Don

t know.


You don

t know what he

s saying?

Awnia shrugged and closed her eyes.

Tula looked between the man and the woman with child. Meeting the prisoner

s blue-eyed visage once more, she said,

You don

t belong here at all, do you?

Levi sat on the edge of the bed and looked across the room to where Awnia slumped against the bars of a different cage. Her screaming had eased into dull hiccoughs, but he was sure they would begin again as soon as she recovered her strength.

After the Blattvolk woman had tried to talk to him, more of the plant people had come and moved Awnia to another cell. And they took away her baby. He could only guess at the atrocities they were performing on the child, and he wondered if there had been something he could

ve done to keep mother and child together.

Short of violence, he didn

t think so. Whatever happened, he had to accept God

s will. But he would never willingly accept the Mark of the Beast.

He paced the cage, stomach knotted with hunger,
head light
with fatigue. How long had he been here? The lights perpetually burned, and the cylinders arrived with what he assumed was a certain regularity

once a day? More? Another untouched canister sat inside his cell. He drank the water from the small fountain in his cell, but after four feedings, he wondered how long he

d gone without food.

In lean years in the village, everyone went on rations.
Sometimes the children who were ill, who required more calories than the village could provide, passed away as emaciated skeletons.
He thought of Josef. Would his son live long enough to endure a lean year again?

Urgency gripped him. If he had any chance at escape, he would need his strength. So far, Awnia and the children down the row did not seem altered by the drink, and Levi wondered if he dared taste it.

No, the thought was temptation by the devil. There was no escape. No physical escape. Should he keep himself alive just so the Blattvolk could perform their unholy rituals upon him? He must strive to die pure.

Standing, he turned away from the temptation of the canister before lowering to his knees at the edge of the bed. He knew he should pray. His only hope lay in God

s salvation. But the words would not come to his lips.

God was punishing him.

A soft voice behind him brought him out of his reverie. He looked over his shoulder to see the green lady who had tried to talk to him before. Her long, filmy coat did nothing to hide her nakedness underneath, and the jade curve of her breasts seemed to cast a spell on his eyes.

It took all of his effort to look away.


Tula,

she said, and pointed to herself.

She pointed to him and he knew she wanted a name. He didn

t want to give any part of himself to these people. He pointed to Awnia and made rocking motions with his arms.

Where is her baby?

He hadn

t lowered his voice, and Awnia looked up. At the sight of Tula, the screaming began again, the outright frantic panic of losing her child.

Tula turned and spoke to the woman in low, gentle tones. She offered her a lump of something, but Awnia batted it away, words tumbling from her mouth over and over.

Baby

baby, baby

baby.

That word seemed universal, for Levi understood.

Another Blattvolk, a male draped in jewelry, came into the room, and the two green people argued before he swung an arm toward the woman prisoner. A strange device in his hand must

ve held a tranquilizer, because Awnia dropped to the floor of her cell.

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