Brought Down

37. Justice

Julian

"You know who I am," I say. "You better not hurt me."

The two faces covered with white medical masks exchange glances, then look down again. Lying restrained on the medical bed, I can't get a proper view of whatever it is they are doing. My head is fixed so that I can only see the ceiling and the upper parts of their heads. There's clinking of metal, as if they are moving some instruments around. People with concealed faces and medical instruments in Burnface's lab are never good news.

"What did he tell you to do? Come on, talk to me." I fail to keep pleading notes out of my voice, but they ignore me anyway.

Then comes a muffled sound from far away, and the bed shakes briefly. The two doctors—I assume that's what they are—exchange perplexed looks.

"What was that?" says one of them.

More sounds come, muffled and unclear. Yet I know what they are. The realization fills me with fear and excitement. It's started. They are actually doing it. They are taking over the ship.

Then comes a swishing sound, and a thud, as the door opens and closes. The two faces disappear from my field of vision. They speak quietly to whoever has just entered.

"Continue," says a voice. "Everything's under control."

My heart sinks. Burnface. I made it so clear that getting him had to be their first priority, and yet here he is, in the same room with me.

They must be after him. I only need to buy some time.

His face appears next to my bed. He has a headset on and seems to be listening to whoever is speaking to him through it.

"Look," I begin, but he raises his hand preventively.

"The armory," he says into the headset. "If you let them take it you better not make it out alive." He pauses again. "The passage ready? Let me know." He turns the switch and smiles at me. "Julian, my dear! I'm so pleased to see you. Isn't it just like the good old times—you, me, and, well, a couple of friends?" He nods at the two doctors whose presence I can only guess. "While my emergency shuttle is being prepared, how about we have some fun?" He slips off one of his gloves and runs his burnt, disfigured finger over my cheek. "Or don't you find me attractive anymore?"

"I still...do." I make an effort not to flinch away from his touch. "I...actually missed you. You may find it hard to believe, but --"

"Indeed," he says in a dreamy tone. "Indeed, I find it hard to believe."

His finger pauses on my lips.

"Suck it," he says.

I blink in disbelief. Is he really willing to waste his time on this? If he is, I'm in. Every minute he spends with me increases the chances that Garrett will come to my rescue. My lips part invitingly, but his fingers only circle around them, then leave my face, and he laughs quietly.

"You are so..." He tilts his head to one side, examining me. "So...pathetic."

He reaches underneath the bed. I hear a click and the upper part of the bed begins to move, raising gradually until I'm in a half sitting position.

"Your ship is under attack," I say. "Don't you need to do something about it?"

He shrugs. "You don't expect me to do the actual fighting, do you? Your rebels did surprise me, I must admit. They spread about the place like rats. But I prefer for others to handle the situation according to my orders, which I can as well give while safely on my way to the station." He crosses his arms on his chest and looks at me apologetically. "As for you, I will have to leave you in the care of these two gentlemen."

"He's abandoning you!" I shout at the two doctors who stand in confusion by the table with instruments. "He's leaving you to be killed by rebels, while he escapes!"

"Hush, sweetie. My dear friends here know they will board the second shuttle, with the rest of the scientific personnel, twenty minutes from now. It will take them half that time to be done with you. The procedure is fairly simple."

Chills run up my spine. "You said...you told Garrett you wouldn't --"

"That Garrett again." He frowns. "What is it between you two? Anyway, I only said I wouldn't kill you or ruin your face. But the real problem about you has always been your personality, not your face. And that we will fix."

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

"That's right." He steps closer. "You see, we've made some progress in our experiments. We came pretty close to making a person nice and compliant without turning him into an idiot." His fingers return to my face and draw an invisible criss-cross on my forehead. "How did you like your father? There was no need to overthrow him in the end. Just convince him to visit my laboratory, and half an hour later, he came out a new man. Slightly different, perhaps, but not enough to raise suspicions."

My jaw drops. I remember my father's face on the screen. So familiar, and yet not quite the same.

"When did that happen?"

"A week ago. Since then, I'm actually in charge of—well, everything?" He spreads his hands. "Officially, it's still your father, but he obeys me like a puppet he was always meant to be." He taps me lightly on the forehead. "And now is your turn to become what you were always meant to be—a pretty, obedient, brainless doll."

Calm. Stay calm. Buy time. Yet my panic is threatening to overflow my reason.

"But... why? They are taking over the ships. Without the ships to deliver the supplies, the space stations will crumble. It's over!"

"It's not over until I say it is," he says sharply. "As long as I hold the space stations, we will not capitulate." He pauses, pressing one of his headphones to his ear. "It looks like your friend Garrett and his gang are attempting to take over the control center. I better leave now. Gentlemen, proceed."

Control center? The words chill me to the bone. They mean Garret is too far from me—let alone too busy—to prevent what's about to happen.

Burnface turns away, and the two men in white robes approach me. One of them rolls a gleaming table with shiny, scary looking instruments. I stare, transfixed, at the sharp things about to cut through my scull and turn me into...what? The impassive, emotionless face of Garrett's father comes to mind. Or my own father's blank gaze as he was saying his lines off the screen. Sad puppets. Is there still a part of them that understands what has been done to them?

"No! Listen to me!"

The two figures loom over me. The upper part of the bed starts sliding down to its horizontal state.

"No!" I yell. "Don't do it! You're not gaining anything by doing this! Please!" I struggle against my restraints, but they hold firm, just as they held who knows how many victims before me. I try to turn my head to see him, but I only get a glimpse of his back. "Please! There's no need to do this!" Unbidden tears fill my eyes. I was always afraid to lose my face, but the prospect of losing my mind, my personality, is immeasurable more horrible. "Why are you doing this? It's for nothing!"

He pauses by the door with his back to me. "It's for justice," he says calmly. "You've ruined everything, and now it's only fair that I ruin you. Good bye, Julian."

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