Think Again

By:  M. J. Cogburn and C. E. Krawiec

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Getting into bed, Quint drew the cool sheets over himself then settled his head on his pillow. Turning out the small bedside lamp, he stared into the darkness a moment then sighed and finally whispered softly, “A rain check isn’t a date, but it’s a start.”  Just listening to himself uttering those words seemed to relax the security guard even more and as he closed his eyes once more, he murmured, “It’s a start.”  A moment or so later, Quint Sylvane was asleep.

PART ONE

After spending two weeks in a cell in correction and enduring listening to others snoring or mumbling in their sleep, even in the depths of his sleep, Quint Sylvane reveled in the silence of his bedroom.  In spite of the few twinges from his healing body as he turned and wiggled during slumber, it was the best night's sleep he'd had in a while.  So when at last the rude little noise of the alarm clock began to pester him, he only argued with himself to linger for a moment or so, before opening his eyes.  He lay still for a minute then stretched carefully before turning on the bedside lamp then just lazed in bed for a while longer.  It was when he caught himself starting to drift off again that Quint sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up and headed for the bathroom.  It was his first day back to his job, and he wasn't taking any chances on being late, even by accident.

After showering and, with some small degree of reluctance, donning one of his form-fitting uniforms, Quint made short work of putting on socks and boots and running a comb through his hair.  He was fastening his watch on his left wrist as he left his quarters and headed for the second level.  He didn't miss the way the man behind the counter at Java Joe's did a mild double take when he pushed through the front door.

"Hey, man," Wally said brightly when Quint at last stepped up to place his order. "What pried you out of bed before the crack of dawn? And for that matter," he winked at the security officer who was a steady customer. "Won't whoever you left sleeping on the other side of the bed get her perky little nose outta joint when she wakes up and finds you gone without so much as a 'good morning, darling,'?"

Quint smiled at Wally then shook his head.  "No, no one will be upset with me," Quint said as he looked down at the cup of coffee in his hand.  "And at the moment, I don't need anyone else in my bed."

Seeing the interesting look that appeared on Wally's face, Quint chuckled, as he said, "So you already have someone on the side?"

"Wally, if you are that interested in my sex life..."

Wally immediately put up his hands and waved off the rest of whatever Quint was going to tell him.  "No, no, Quint.  I don't need to know the sordid, nasty details."

"Good," Quint said with a grin then held up the coffee cup and nodded to him before he headed out the door to go to work.

Having made sure he had extra time to report for work, Quint, coffee cup in hand, stopped in at a small cafe to get a breakfast sandwich of sausage and egg.  A couple of friends spied him at one of the tiny tables and joined him.  For Quint it felt good to feel the familiarness of his daily routine starting to slip into place as he joined his co-workers in their trek to work about fifteen minutes later.  In a small way, as he clocked in, it reminded him for a moment of his first days on the job, but that moment of memory was put aside when he heard the sound of Captain Hank Adlams starting the morning roll call prior to giving out duty assignments.

Hank Adlams tone was as crisp as always but all of the squad waiting before him recognized the steely thread in his voice as he called out, "Sylvane!". He just watched Quinton slide into his seat as he responded as was expected.

"Here, sir," Quint called out, his tone firm yet respectful.

Glancing at the clipboard he held, he looked up, his gaze fixing on Quinton.  "I'm assigning you, Rafferty and Caldwell to Holding Chamber duty."

"Yes, sir," Quint responded then remained silent, though watchful, until Adlams had finished with assignments and dismissed them.  As he headed for the door, he looked around for the other two guards who would be joining him in the Holding Chamber area.

"Hey, Quint," a man's slightly nasal voice called out.

Quint paused, stepping out of the flow of security guards as they headed off for their individual assignments.  Scanning the group, Quint quickly spotted the speaker and smiled broadly at him as Jim Rafferty joined him. "My first day back and what do I get?" he razzed the other man. "Babysitting duty."  He just grinned and laughed when Jim Rafferty gave him a bit of a shove as they reached the bank of elevators, pausing to wait with a number of others for the elevator cars to return.

Grinning at his co-worker, Jim said, "So, Quint, did you get enough R and R while you were gone?"  The rough shove that he got was answer to his question and he chuckled.

"So, what are you planning to do this evening, Quint?"

Stepping into the elevator car that arrived just at that moment, Quint answered, "Let me get through this shift, then I'll let you know."  The exchange to that comment was about par for them, and none of them pressed Quint any further.  At one time or another, every person on the security staff had seen the inside of the correctional facility "up close and personally".  Added to that unspoken fact was that the two men pulling duty with him on this shift had gotten glimpses of their fellow guard during his two weeks of punishment.  They knew all too well that come the end of their work day that there was a good chance that any bravado Quinton might put on during the day, might dissolve.  The man was only a couple of days out of correction; even the hardiest man or woman, yielded to common sense and did rush "getting back to normal'.

When the elevator doors opened on Level Thirteen the casual light banter was dismissed as the three guards were instantly assaulted by screams emanating from at least two of the Holding Chambers. Exiting the elevator, Quint and his fellow guards marched down the main hall and past the hallway that led to Central Control. At the end of the hall, Rafferty turned left, while Quint and Caldwell went right.  Only three of them had been dispatched, which meant that only three of the four chambers were in use.

At the first chamber Quint as instructed by Lothos through his implants, continued past it to go to the guard standing at attention before the next chamber situated roughly two hundred feet past the first one.  The exchange of posts was accomplished and Quinton assumed his proper stance before the door of Holding Chamber Number Four.  For a few seconds the screams coming from within the chamber caused a shiver to run up his back, but he shook it off and mentally tuned it out.

"Later," was all the relieved guard said to Quint before turning and heading back to the security center to clock out and take his much needed and earned rest.  Coming off guard duty at the chambers was always somber. Watching the man retreating down the hall, Quint knew that his own expression would likely resemble the other man's when the next shift came to replace him. Actually, he wondered if it would be worse for him, having been on the receiving side of such focus from a TM so recently.  As far as he was concerned at that moment, in his mind, there wasn't all that great a difference between a TM and an MPT.

Quinton was set in his stance when he heard the door beside him open and MPT Jonathan Pheaton came out of the session he was in and met the man's gaze.

"Officer Sylvane, you are to go inside and just stand guard over the woman inside.  If she begins to talk to you, I want to know it.  I'll return in thirty minutes."

Quinton blinked at the technician before he heard the order from Lothos to do as ordered.  Quint bowed his head then moved within the Holding Chamber.  What he saw when he entered shocked him more than he cared to admit.

As the door of the holding chamber slid shut behind him, Quint got a clear view of the 'guest' and as always happened, his stomach tightened for a moment. He shook that off mentally and stepped to one side of the door and resumed his at attention posture, his hands behind his back, his gaze fixing on the woman heavily restrained in the chair in the middle of the room. The purple bruising on her face, along with the small marks on her strapped down arms told Quint that the middle-aged woman hadn't long been arrived in the chamber.  A glance at her legs, exposed when her skirt had been pushed up to her hips, and seeing relatively few marks there told him that unless this one started giving up information pretty quickly, she would have nightmares about this for the rest of her life... provided that she even survived the event.  It was common knowledge that many times a corpse was returned to its proper time when Lothos had -or not- gained whatever it was he wanted from the guest.

"P... please... please, help me," the woman whispered between bloody lips. "Why... why am I here? What is it you want from me?"

Quinton knew his role in the game that was played when people landed in the Holding Chamber.  He was more than aware of what Lothos wanted from him and even more aware of what the woman in the chair wanted from him as well.  This was the only thing that Quint didn't like about the "babysitting" job outside the Holding Chamber.

For a moment, he just looked at her then licked his lips lightly. "I can't help you.  You have to help yourself."

"How?" the woman whispered yet again as tears came to her eyes.

'Oh, why did it have to be a woman?' he wondered as he swallowed as her tears seemed to touch a small part of him.  "You have to tell them what you know, or..." he let the sentence trail off.

"Or... what?" the dark-haired woman's voice quivered as she spoke the frightening question. Out of a moment of dizziness she had recovered to find herself in what had, for her, become every nightmare she'd ever had, combined.  She gazed toward the young guard, her slightly near-sighted eyes blurring with tears; the puffiness under her left eye, from the first time the other man had punched her, didn't help her vision. "I don't understand," she pleaded, twisting her arms as much as she could in the straps that bound them to the chair arms. "What does he... do you want?"

It had been one of the areas of his training that had been somewhat difficult to come to grips with, namely, the severity of the methods the MPTs used on guests in the Holding Chambers. It was harder still where women were concerned.  However, after one somewhat squeamish reaction early in his training for this duty, Quinton, to his horror, had found himself strapped into a chair in a holding cell, listening to his instructor tell the MPT on duty that day to, "Teach him." Now, as he returned the scared woman's gaze without a hint of emotion in his eyes, Quinton recalled his own screams to the instructor, two other trainees and even to Lothos.  He heard again the fear and pain (that had become agony) as he pleaded to be told what was wanted of him.  Somehow, someway, the answer had filtered down through the jagged layers of pain and when he began babbling out what it was he'd learned, after only a couple of minutes, Lothos had ordered him released.

Now, though that little part of him that had been touched for a moment by the guest's fear and battered appearance, the sob in her voice, Quinton cut off that influence and met the teary gray eyes pinned on him. "Tell them what you know," he repeated bluntly, keeping his voice level and emotionless.

"But I don't know anything!" the woman half sobbed, half screamed at him.

Quinton hardened his heart and his mind. "You must know something, otherwise you wouldn't have been brought here."  He paused a second then added, "When he gets back..." He didn't flinch at the way her face blanched, her eyes widening as fear grew inside her. "Start talking.  Who knows," he paused to lick his lips lightly.  "You may discover that you know what he wants to know after all."

The woman shivered in the chair as she looked around the room.  Turning her eyes back to the handsome guard, she swallowed then asked, "What... what is this place?"

Quinton raised his eyebrow at the question and just met her gaze, not saying a word to her.  He knew what he could say and what he couldn't say.  He wasn't about to get placed in incarceration again after just coming out of it because of her.

"Please, you... you can't let him..."

The door to the chamber opened at that moment cutting off whatever she was going to say as her eyes widened at the man who had beaten her earlier step back into the room.

MPT Jonathan Pheaton entered and met Quinton Sylvane's gaze.  Raising his eyebrow at Quinton and prompted, "And?"

Quinton came to attention.  "Nothing sir.  She asked where she was and why she was here.  She received the standard answers for those questions, sir."  Quinton had always known that the MPT would come back early.  "Is there anything else that you need of me, sir?"

Jonathan Pheaton assessed the guard's expression as well as his reply then shifted his gaze to the terrified woman, her fear-widened eyes fixed on him.  He gave her his full attention for a moment then turned back to Quinton Sylvane.  "Return to your post, mister," the MPT ordered then turned and approached the 'guest' once more.

Quinton didn't need telling twice, another lesson-hammered home during that one eye-opening lesson he'd had in such a chamber as a trainee.  "Yes, sir," were the only words he uttered as he exited the chamber, the door sliding shut behind him.  Taking two steps to the right, he resumed the required stance and once again turned off his hearing to the sounds that seemed to have resumed as fast as the door had shut behind him.

The only way he knew how long the session in the chamber went on, was when another guard, Tony Shelby, showed up to relieve him for his allowed forty-five minute dinner break.  Neither man said much beyond Tony saying, "Break time."  Quinton just nodded and left the area, the only thought on his mind being which of two places to go get something to eat.  At the elevator Quint looked around when he heard footsteps approaching; it was Stuart.  Pressing the button, the two guards waited without comment for the elevator. Even the ride up to the second level was basically silent.  Except for the guards of longest tenure and therefore truly hardened to the screaming, most guards on chamber duty didn't do a lot of kidding or joking during a shift.

The elevator doors finally opened on the second floor and Quint followed Stuart out. Almost as one, both men heaved a small sigh of relief. It was Stuart who spoke first. "Where you gonna eat?"

Quinton lifted his shoulders in response.  "Can't have a lot of things.  Tongue's still sore.  Probably the cafeteria.  You go on, Stuart.  Go eat what you want and I'll meet you back at the elevators in thirty.  OK?"

Seeing the man nod, Quint turned and headed toward the cafeteria wondering what would be easy enough on his tongue that they might be serving.  He just hoped that it was something else than yesterday.  He didn't want to have the same bland food - at least, he wanted something different.

Getting in line, he looked around as he started heading toward the serving table.  He didn't see anyone that he really wanted to sit with and the idea of sitting alone wasn't too appealing.  Taking a deep breath, he moved slowly with the line and waited to see what they had for lunch.

Even the breakfast shift in the cafeteria wasn't as busy as lunchtime, so Quint counted himself lucky that the line wasn't that long and moved fairly quickly.  Sliding his tray along, when he reached the serving area and the woman behind the counter asked rather sharply, "What do you want?" Quint gave her a close look but didn't snap back. Glancing over the variety of hot foods to choose from, he quickly settled on the "mystery meat" meatloaf, "With plenty of gravy," he added. His selection was dished up along with some peas and mashed potatoes....’Gawd, I'm so sick of mashed potatoes!’.... and in short order, he presented his meal chit to the cashier. Pausing long enough to get something to drink, Quint scanned the large seating area that was filling up fast, and then hurried to an empty table near the main door.  Transferring his plate, utensils and glass to the table, he sat down, picked up his fork, not wasting any time in starting on his lunch.  While his tongue was still tender, it was healed well enough that he only winced a couple of times at the heat of the food in his mouth.

So intent was Quint on finishing his meal that at first he didn't notice when someone spoke to him.  It was only when he heard a throat cleared almost at his elbow that Quint looked up, his fork halfway to his mouth to see who it was.

"Mind if I join you?"

Quinton slowly brought the forkful of mash potatoes back to the plate as he smiled up at Tala Lothoman.  "Please, do," he answered. 

He quickly came up out of his chair as she went to the chair opposite of him and stood until she was seated, then sat down once again.  "How are you this morning, Ms. Tala?" he asked her as he met her gaze. 

"I'm fine, Quinton.  Thank you for asking.  How about you?  Did you sleep well?"

Quinton thought about his answer for a moment as he looked at her.  He didn't want her to think of his time in incarceration, so he quickly rethought his answer.  "I slept peacefully.  I hope that your night was the same."

Seeing her nod, his smile brightened.  He was so thankful that he hadn't put his foot in his mouth with the lovely redhead that he wasn't watching what he was doing as he grabbed his glass of tea and brought it up to his mouth.  He hadn't seen the waitress fill up his glass of tea and he wasn't ready to be wearing most of it when he tried to pop the ice that had been at the bottom of the glass toward his mouth.  The shock of the cold liquid on his chest and in his lap was more than eye opening and he quickly stood up and quickly put the glass back on the table before he dropped it.

"Oh, sir, I'm so sorry," the waitress who had refilled the glass and had only just turned away, apologized as she set the pitcher down on a nearby table and rushed to Quinton's assistance.  A busboy clearing a table nearby hurried over with a towel to mop up the spilled tea.

"It's okay," Quinton reassured the girl as he stepped back from the table. Taking another towel the busboy offered, he mopped uselessly at the front of his uniform. "It's okay," he repeated.  "It's not your fault. I wasn't paying attention and didn't see you refill the glass."

The mess was cleared away and Quint was offered another glass of tea, but he declined it.  Resuming his seat for a moment, he looked across the table to his impromptu lunch companion. He couldn't fault Tala for the trouble she was having trying not to giggle aloud at his predicament.

He sighed ruefully, saying, "I'd love to stay and talk, Tala. But I think if I hurry, I've got enough time to get to my quarters and put on a dry uniform."  Standing up, Quint turned to go after receiving her assurance that she understood, then remembered something and turned back to her.  "Is that rain check for dessert some time still good?" he asked.

Tala looked up at the man standing beside her and smiled at him.  "Most definitely, Quint." 

With a nod, Quinton quickly leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek then excused himself to get to his quarters.  Even as he got on the elevator, he shook his head with a sigh.  "I can't win for losing," he remarked to himself.

Rushing to his quarters, he quickly changed and headed back to the elevators to catch the elevator that Stuart was on.  Shaking his head, Quinton explained why he wasn't at the elevator then took the good-natured ribbing from his cohort as they headed back toward the chambers.  As soon as they reached level thirteen, both men quietly left the elevator and headed back to their position.

What Quinton noticed immediately as he approached Tony Shelby where he stood beside the door of Holding Chamber Number 4 was the silence.  As he resumed his place, he and Tony exchanged a knowing look.  Quint just nodded then watched the other guard go on his way. Only when the relief guard had disappeared did Quint settle down for the remainder of his six-hour shift.  An hour later when the door of the chamber opened, he glanced that way. Seeing a cleaning team emerging, the supervisor of the team the last one out locking the door, Quint could only wonder what had happened to the terrified woman.  He spared only a flickered glance after the cleaning team then dismissed them from his thoughts.  One of the major lessons hammered into everyone who worked in or near the holding chambers was that you never asked about the guests who occupied them from time to time.  Learning not to see or hear what happened down here was, physically, the healthiest thing a man or woman could do.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, but for Quinton Sylvane, that was fine enough for him. By the time that his shift was over when Tony Shelby showed back up to relieve him for the night, he nodded to Tony then slowly made his way toward the bank of elevators.

He met up with Stuart and couldn't help but stifle a yawn as he step on.  Unlike this afternoon when the pair had met up, Quinton turned to Stuart when he asked, "So, are you doing anything tonight or not?"

Quinton remembered the question that the man had asked him when they were on their way down to the chambers and his response.  "Not tonight," Quint said as another yawn crept up on him.  "But..."

"Oh, come on, Quint.  I know that Steve and Bob have a pool game that they are going to be playing tonight and I need a partner.  I know that you like..."

"I would love to play some pool, Stuart, but man, even though I just had to stand there, I should have the energy to do something, but at the moment, I'm... I'm exhausted.  You'll have to...” Another yawn came and Quinton slightly moaned through it, "... find someone else to help you out."

At level five, Quinton stepped out of the elevator and gave a short wave of goodbye to Stuart then headed down the hallway toward his quarters.