Seventy-five: Malt scotch on the rocks

"Jean," a hand on my shoulder made me jump while I was fussing over the finer details of my program. "Jean, stop that. What are you doing?"

"Haven't done anything yet," I looked up while Tim leaned over me to look at my program.

"You did that in the short time we were talking?" he shook his head at me. "The code you're using is old. Almost obsolete… but… man, this is cool."

"Explain, Ensign."

"How do I say this?" Tim asked himself. "She was building a program to break the Bosky networks wide open. It looks somewhat similar to the mystery floating code that helped kill the virus and restore functions a few years back when the internet broke. She must have based this off that idea."

"Send it on to the tecchies. Get them to refine it or whatever. I need you to finish cleaning those up as discussed. Jean, come with me," Tightwad took me by the hand and walked me back toward my room. "I've been told not to let you near a computer without any other computer geeks around to keep an eye on you. I can see why now," she shook her head. "You're full of surprises. I don't see why they didn't recruit you much earlier to help out in one of the centres that could actually use a talent like yours. Instead, they've got you down here. Growing vegetables."

"Being bait," I supplied what she didn't seem to want to say. "Bosky bait. Kiran's coming."

"How do you know?"

"It's a guess. Wish I could have some peace and quiet a bit longer. Kiran knows I'm here," I tapped my bracelet. "He'll be coming for me. Once the Boskies have me, our people will want me back to try and lead Kiran around by the nose again. I'm bait wherever I go."

"Why does Kiran want you? Do you know? I'm just being curious here," Tightwad asked.

"He's a stalker. Been stalking me for years since before the war. Talked to me for the first time on the day on the Invasion. Offered to marry me when they captured me," I shrugged. "No idea what he sees in me. His soldiers actually want me dead and out of the way. That's why I'm here."

"Sometimes," Tightwad looked at me out the corner of her eyes, "you act like a little child and I think that you're not all with it. Other times, I see there's more to you than meets the eye."

"It'd more interesting if they hadn't broken me first," I grumbled, fidgeting with a button that fell off. It didn't matter since it was a decorative button, but now I didn't know what to do with it. The string in my sewing kits had since all been used up.

"Who's they?"

"The war. Everyone," I shrugged. "Don't know."

"Jean," Tightwad told me, when we reached my cubicle room in the toilet block. "You have to stay in your room over the next few days. No, listen to me. Forget the vegetables. Stay in your room for the next few days. This is an order. You'll be given your food and drink like usual. Just stay inside where it's safer. It's going to get noisy and busy out here the next few days and I can't keep looking for where you've disappeared to next."

Pouting, but nodding, I still couldn't help protesting.

"But the vegetables are almost ready."

"We'll have to harvest them early. How about this? I'll get people to harvest them tomorrow morning. No, Jean, you don't need to help. I just want you to stay in your room. Can you do that or do I need to lock you in?"

I shrugged.

"I'm impulsive these days. You'd better lock me in, even if I hate you for it, if you want to keep me out of the way."

Tightwad got another strange look on her face and she looked down, clapping me on my shoulder.

"Good night then, Jean. I'm sorry."

"Me too," I said, about to walk in, but then whirling around and grabbing her arm when a thought hit me. "He'll use your every weakness to his advantage. He knows the Compound really well. He's been watching it since Invasion Day. Watch the trees near the walls. He'll mount a distraction and won't come on time. Kiran is very smart and his teams are very, very good. Be very, very careful. I'll cry if you're killed."

Tightwad gave me another long strange look.

"Your dossier doesn't do you justice," she said at last. "At all. If we both live to see the end of the war, I'll take you out for a drink some time," she said. "What will you have?"

"Sparkling grape juice," I grinned. "No alcohol. Allergies. What will you have?"

"Malt scotch on the rocks," she closed her eyes and made a satisfied sound. "Ah."

I laughed.

"Not a ladylike drink."

"Do I look remotely ladylike to you?" she asked me.

I shrugged.

"You're a lady soldier. Like a lady knight, but without the sword and shield. Defender of the weak. Protector of the small." She laughed and pushed me into my room while I continued calling out made up titles. "Keeper of the purse. Whipper of the lazy. Nagger of the gardener."

The doors were locked not long later and meals were pushed through a flap in the door the next day. It was boring in my room. I did star jumps, running on the spot and push ups. I counted tiles, performed simple mathematical equations and calculated that my room was covered in two hundred and sixty-nine tiles altogether. I manually counted four hundred and thirty-two and a half. I couldn't make the numbers match, but that might be because of some of the smaller decorative tiles and the half tiles around the door. I didn't manage to figure out where my calculations were wrong, because I needed to write it down, but had no pen.

I recited all the poems I could remember and sang all the songs I could think of.

"Compliments of the chef," said whoever delivered my dinner tray that was filled with extra greens. "Tightwad said to tell you not to worry about the plants. We harvested everything we could. You just sit tight."

"Bored," I moaned. "Really, really bored."

A used sudoku book and a pen were shoved under the door when my tray was taken back later.

"Thank you," I called after the nameless deliverer.