Charles watched the young woman as she clasped her hands tightly around the steaming mug of tea he'd offered her to keep them from shaking. He moved around to the opposite side of his desk and sat, watching her closely.
"He can really get to you, can't he?" he asked, attempting to make his voice sound light. She looked up at him finally, her large brown eyes wide and frightened.
"Who is he?" she whispered. Charles had to give her credit. Her voice was controlled, even if the rest of her wasn't.
"He is... Alpha." He looked around to make sure that his sergeant was still safely outside and that the door was firmly shut. "To tell you the truth, Doctor, even I don't really know who he is, and I've been his guard for almost five years."
"Five years? He's – you've – been down here for five years?"
"He's been down here a lot longer than that. And I'll tell you this: this place -- his cell, these quarters – they weren't built in a day. These rooms were honed from solid rock without anyone in the entire central compound ever knowing it had been done. His cell is extensive. Really," he said looking around with a laugh, "this place is the cell. His is practically a mansion."
The Doctor leaned back in her chair. He could tell from her face that she was still trying to assimilate what was happening to her.
"It doesn't make sense," she said finally. "None of it makes sense. Why me? Why this assignment? I'm not at the top of my field, not even close! I work hard, and I do a good job, but I'm no prodigy. There are plenty of doctors older and wiser than I in my medical center alone who would be better qualified, so why did they pick me?" Charles shook his head.
"You don't have any idea?"
"Something he... Alpha... said. He said I resembled someone. That the resemblance was remarkable. And then he said 'Where in the galaxy did she find you?'" The young woman stared at him. "She who? Who was he talking about?"
Charles shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was times like this that he was reminded that he was a man who knew too much. It was always a question of whom you could trust, how much you could reveal without it getting back to those you couldn't trust. The Doctor seemed to sense his reluctance. She leaned forward and set her tea on the desk.
"I can't work like this," she said simply. "I don't know how they expect me to help him with all of this cloak and dagger mumbo jumbo all around me. Hell, I don't even know what's wrong with him!" She looked at Charles intently. "You said you were beginning to be concerned for him?" Charles nodded.
"Well he's always been a bit odd. He's a genius, or so I was told. And he certainly seems to be. He's always tinkering with some bit of something or another or drawing something or reading something. The only things he ever asks for are books or data chips. But lately, lately he hasn't been himself. I never see him working on anything any more except a drawing. A drawing of a room, or a deck on a ship. I'm not sure. He hides it whenever I get to close." Anna frowned.
"Would you say he's becoming obsessive?"
"That's precisely the word for it. Obsessive."
"Well, being locked away like this can't be good for his mental health. I'd be shocked if he didn't have a few obsessions, a few quirks."
"But it's more than quirks, Doctor. I agree with you. A man cut off from the world for as long as he's been is bound to be a bit queer, but now he's started talking to himself, or to be more precise, to other people, as though he's having a conversation with them that no one else can hear." Charles bent and reached into a drawer under his desk and retrieved a file.
"My sergeant out there was the first to notice it when he was taking him his dinner. We thought for a while he might have somehow built himself a communicator, that he really was speaking to someone on the outside. We did a full sweep of the cell. Tore the thing apart." He pushed the file across the desk at her. "Pissed the hell out of him, too. But we didn't find a thing. It's all written down in there." The Doctor opened the file and glanced at the first page.
"Have you heard him?" Charles nodded.
"On several occasions."
"What does he say? Who does he think he's talking to?" Charles sighed. Poor old Alpha. It almost felt like a betrayal to bring this pretty young doctor in. Charles knew that Alpha's pride was about the only thing he had left, and bringing in a doctor would hurt.
"It sounds like he's giving orders sometimes, or discussing strategy. He'll say something like, 'We've got to go after them. They have something we need.' Things like that. Other times, it sounds like he's just chatting with friends."
"Have you ever heard him use names?" Charles nodded again.
"Only once. He was talking about someone who had died, I think. Or someone who was missing. I couldn't be sure."
"What did he say exactly?"
"He said, 'We have to keep searching. We have to know – I have to know if Blake is alive or dead.'" The Doctor looked at him quizzically.
"Blake? Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. Does it mean anything to you?" The Doctor shook her head. She was staring at her hands, probably thinking. Charles said nothing. Let her think.
"Commander," she said finally, "what will happen if I accept this job? Will they put me down here with you? With... him?" Charles was surprised. He heard the implication in her question and was impressed that she'd drawn the conclusion so quickly.
"You mean, once you get in, will they ever let you out?" She looked up at him again with those same frightened brown eyes. "I wish I could tell you. Where Alpha is concerned, they've thrown out the rule book. From the rumors I've heard from other men posted down here, for the crimes Alpha committed, he should have been executed a dozen times over. He gets anything he asks for – anything at all – no questions asked. And from what I've heard tell, the men who waste their lives down here, either disappear completely, or turn up as rich governors on outer worlds somewhere." He shrugged. "I didn't have anything to lose, but everything to gain by accepting this post. You, well I don't know about you." The Doctor leaned forward and glanced around.
"I'm afraid I already know too much," she whispered. "I'm afraid that if I turn them down, I might just disappear like the men you mentioned." A chill went down Charles' back. She was right of course, and it made him feel sick. He didn't say anything.
Suddenly, the intercom on his desk buzzed. He pressed the speaker, and his sergeant announced that the Doctor's escort had arrived to take her back to the surface. They both rose in silence.
"They've told me I'll be given a week to make my assessment and decide..." she said before he opened the door, "So I guess I'll see you again." Charles swung open the heavily reinforced door.
"I look forward to it."
On the top floor of the central compound, Martin Faure was feeling decidedly ill at ease with his orders. He had shuffled the meaningless papers on his desk several times already in a vain attempt to keep his mind occupied as he waited for his next instructions. Still his mind tumbled over and over the things he knew, and the much more numerous things he did not know.
The intercom on his desk buzzed, and he was glad. No matter how terrible a thing is, it can never be worse than the anticipation of it.
"Good evening Madam." He found that no matter how many times he spoke to her, the visage on the communicator screen never ceased to cause his stomach to clench and his teeth to grind.
"Supreme Commander. I trust things went according to plan."
"The Doctor arrived on schedule and I briefed her as you instructed. She had her first visit with the prisoner this afternoon."
"Yes, I know. It went well. Better than I had hoped."
"I'm very pleased to hear that, Madam."
"But I'm afraid that Alpha may have made your job a bit more difficult."
"How so?"
"He alerted the girl's already piqued suspicions. She's not a fool. Really, Faure, you must learn some subtlety. It is the thing that distinguishes rulers from subjects and kings from pawns."
"Yes Madam."
"It is imperative that our little ingénue make the right decision. She is the cornerstone of my plan."
"And if she should decline?" There was a pause, long enough for Faure to realize that his question was a foolish one.
"See that she doesn't Faure."
"Yes, Madam."
