?Next!? The woman?s voice rapped out, crisp and just as cold as it had been the seven times previous. This time Johnny looked up from the game of peek-a-boo he was engaged in and stood. An absent ruffle of the tow-headed child?s hair and a friendly grin to the child?s harried mother before he crossed the waiting room to enter the office.
The door shut with a precise mechanical click behind him, and all traces of his easy grin were wiped away into a forbidding scowl. Emerald eyes assessed the woman sitting behind the brushed-steel desk, from the tight pull of dark hair into a small bun through the tired and disapproving look on her face and the razor-sharp creases of her uniform to the vivid flash of a red tattoo peeking out from the edge of her sleeve. One blonde eyebrow lifted at the glimpse of that tattoo, and color flushed into the woman?s pale cheeks. She twitched her sleeves back into place, covering the hint of individuality, and her voice was even sharper as a result of the embarrassment. ?Yes? What can I do for you.?
Johnny noted her tone of voice and the lack of an invitation to sit. Before he answered he scanned the office, found the small chair meant for visitors tucked into a corner ? obviously not meant to be used ? and lifted the chair to drop in front of the over-sized desk. He sat while she reared back with an expression of indignation compounded with wariness for the easy way he had moved the heavy metal seat. Before she could more than open her mouth, he spoke, baritone voice deepened further by unconcealed anger.
?Go? a coupl?a thin?s I need ta brin? up with y?all. A complain? agains? tha? ?Inspector? Jenks fer harassmen?, thef? an? corruption, an? I need ta arrange ta lif? off?a this place with m?wife. She needs a medevac.? As always when he used the phrase ?my wife? in reference to Sarah rather than Sianna, he felt a pang of mingled guilt and longing for his bardess bride. It just added to the scowl on his bearded face; the woman?s face set into deeper lines of disapproval for his appearance and muddled accent.
?First things first, this complaint. I suppose you have evidence of the alleged misdeeds?? Her precise enunciation was laced with contempt for Johnny?s lazy drawl; her bored and condescending tones clearly indicated that she didn?t expect Johnny to have any evidence at all. She had obviously heard many complaints before, and was prepared to dismiss Johnny?s without a second thought.
One silver-meshed hand slammed down on the desk, palm flat and fingers spread wide, while Johnny leaned forward suddenly. The woman flinched back and then straightened with a look of venom for the involuntary reaction. Johnny studied her for a moment and then grinned, the easy open smile that came so naturally. Lifting his hand from the desk revealed a small memory chip, neatly labelled with a date-time code. ?Ya know, I s?pose tha? I do have some?a tha? evidence after all. Recordin?s from th? farm system showin? every visi? Jenks has made ou? there, harassin? Sarah, takin? most?a th? profits from las? month ? everythin?. Shouldn? be any difficulty tellin? wha?s goin? on there. Now abou? tha? medevac, ma?am.?
?I will need your complete name and the name of your spouse to file this complaint as well as to complete the medical evacuation request. I also need to know the nature of the medical emergency.? The woman had obviously chosen to retreat in the face of the memory chip, and now she turned to her computer with her hands poised over the keyboard. Johnny noticed with some amusement that the position showed the red edges of her tattoo again.
?M?name?s Johnothan David Smith an? m?wife is ? ? barely noticeable, the pause before he continued smoothly, ?Sarah Jane Whittaker-Smith. Nature?a th? medical emergency is tha? she?s pregnan?.? Keys rattled just a fraction behind the pace of Johnny?s speech while the woman input the data, then paused.
After an amused, almost tolerant look at Johnny, the woman said, ?Now Mr. Smith, you know that pregnancy hardly qualifies as a medical emergency sufficient to validate a breach of this planet?s embargo.?
Johnny looked at the woman, all traces of a smile gone from his face, and then blinked slowly while he put his hand very deliberately back on the table. Silver film lowered to obscure the emerald of his irises, giving his gaze a disconcertingly blank appearance. After a moment he lifted his hand from the steel desk to show a handprint melted into the surface and to better display the silver mesh visible on his fingertips. His voice was flat with the worry he felt for Sianna and their children ? if this woman thought it was for Sarah, so much the better. ?I?ve go? mods. Partial genetic componen?, ain? no sayin? wha? tha? migh? do ta any kids. Could be nothin?, could be somethin? useful , could be deadly. Jus? don? know an? won? unless we ge? back ta Invotech ta have?em check everythin? ou?.?
The woman swallowed as Johnny blinked again and retracted the silver film. After a moment she pushed back her padded chair, gave another look from the computer screen to Johnny, and then smiled nervously. ?I?m very sorry Mr. Smith, but I need to bring in my supervisor.? With no further explanation, she turned and hurried out through the door in the back wall of the office, in full retreat.
The door shut with a precise mechanical click behind him, and all traces of his easy grin were wiped away into a forbidding scowl. Emerald eyes assessed the woman sitting behind the brushed-steel desk, from the tight pull of dark hair into a small bun through the tired and disapproving look on her face and the razor-sharp creases of her uniform to the vivid flash of a red tattoo peeking out from the edge of her sleeve. One blonde eyebrow lifted at the glimpse of that tattoo, and color flushed into the woman?s pale cheeks. She twitched her sleeves back into place, covering the hint of individuality, and her voice was even sharper as a result of the embarrassment. ?Yes? What can I do for you.?
Johnny noted her tone of voice and the lack of an invitation to sit. Before he answered he scanned the office, found the small chair meant for visitors tucked into a corner ? obviously not meant to be used ? and lifted the chair to drop in front of the over-sized desk. He sat while she reared back with an expression of indignation compounded with wariness for the easy way he had moved the heavy metal seat. Before she could more than open her mouth, he spoke, baritone voice deepened further by unconcealed anger.
?Go? a coupl?a thin?s I need ta brin? up with y?all. A complain? agains? tha? ?Inspector? Jenks fer harassmen?, thef? an? corruption, an? I need ta arrange ta lif? off?a this place with m?wife. She needs a medevac.? As always when he used the phrase ?my wife? in reference to Sarah rather than Sianna, he felt a pang of mingled guilt and longing for his bardess bride. It just added to the scowl on his bearded face; the woman?s face set into deeper lines of disapproval for his appearance and muddled accent.
?First things first, this complaint. I suppose you have evidence of the alleged misdeeds?? Her precise enunciation was laced with contempt for Johnny?s lazy drawl; her bored and condescending tones clearly indicated that she didn?t expect Johnny to have any evidence at all. She had obviously heard many complaints before, and was prepared to dismiss Johnny?s without a second thought.
One silver-meshed hand slammed down on the desk, palm flat and fingers spread wide, while Johnny leaned forward suddenly. The woman flinched back and then straightened with a look of venom for the involuntary reaction. Johnny studied her for a moment and then grinned, the easy open smile that came so naturally. Lifting his hand from the desk revealed a small memory chip, neatly labelled with a date-time code. ?Ya know, I s?pose tha? I do have some?a tha? evidence after all. Recordin?s from th? farm system showin? every visi? Jenks has made ou? there, harassin? Sarah, takin? most?a th? profits from las? month ? everythin?. Shouldn? be any difficulty tellin? wha?s goin? on there. Now abou? tha? medevac, ma?am.?
?I will need your complete name and the name of your spouse to file this complaint as well as to complete the medical evacuation request. I also need to know the nature of the medical emergency.? The woman had obviously chosen to retreat in the face of the memory chip, and now she turned to her computer with her hands poised over the keyboard. Johnny noticed with some amusement that the position showed the red edges of her tattoo again.
?M?name?s Johnothan David Smith an? m?wife is ? ? barely noticeable, the pause before he continued smoothly, ?Sarah Jane Whittaker-Smith. Nature?a th? medical emergency is tha? she?s pregnan?.? Keys rattled just a fraction behind the pace of Johnny?s speech while the woman input the data, then paused.
After an amused, almost tolerant look at Johnny, the woman said, ?Now Mr. Smith, you know that pregnancy hardly qualifies as a medical emergency sufficient to validate a breach of this planet?s embargo.?
Johnny looked at the woman, all traces of a smile gone from his face, and then blinked slowly while he put his hand very deliberately back on the table. Silver film lowered to obscure the emerald of his irises, giving his gaze a disconcertingly blank appearance. After a moment he lifted his hand from the steel desk to show a handprint melted into the surface and to better display the silver mesh visible on his fingertips. His voice was flat with the worry he felt for Sianna and their children ? if this woman thought it was for Sarah, so much the better. ?I?ve go? mods. Partial genetic componen?, ain? no sayin? wha? tha? migh? do ta any kids. Could be nothin?, could be somethin? useful , could be deadly. Jus? don? know an? won? unless we ge? back ta Invotech ta have?em check everythin? ou?.?
The woman swallowed as Johnny blinked again and retracted the silver film. After a moment she pushed back her padded chair, gave another look from the computer screen to Johnny, and then smiled nervously. ?I?m very sorry Mr. Smith, but I need to bring in my supervisor.? With no further explanation, she turned and hurried out through the door in the back wall of the office, in full retreat.