A Day in the Life of Major Grace Newman before the Zoastra Part Ten
Meanwhile, on Tyrian, Major Grace Nelson and Second Lieutenant Rosemarie Mortlock waited in what looked like a holding cell. They’d just been transported to the planet surface.
Lieutenant Mortlock asked, “Do you think we’re here as slaves?”
“I don’t know. But right now I’m concerned about Southeastern. She’s not here.”
Mortlock nodded. “If I understood right, she was taken to the throne room, the emperor’s room, or something like that.”
Lieutenant Nelson shook her head. “I don’t have your gift of languages, Rosemarie.”
“And I don’t have your gifts of deduction.”
Grace didn’t know what to do. Deduction? Not right now. The room seemed unimportant.
Step one seemed to be having all three of them together. Step two would be plotting an escape plan. They’d walked one thousand, three hundred steps, took a turn left at two hundred steps, and went up a flight of stairs of nine hundred steps. Then they’d turned right after one thousand, two-thirty steps. But even if they retraced how they walked here, they needed transportation off the planet.
The women sat in silence for almost an hour before Second Lieutenant Southeastern walked back to the women’s prison in a fit of giggles. Her face was red and blotchy from the continual laughter.
Major Grace Newman crossed her arms, but didn’t move while the guards brought Southeastern in. She had no idea what happened to Southeastern once she was dragged out of their fancy prison. But, as the senior officer of the women, she had a duty to keep her people in line. “Southeastern, control yourself.”
The young officer laughed even harder, as she explained, “Smaller than my pinky,
ma’ am.”
“Stop,” Newman barked.
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