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Known Knowns
Gail Foster lived in the Free Territory (Pine Bluff?).
- Was tested at station 9-P
- No other woman on the list had an X under "result."
- Was shipped somewhere by the Kurians five days later.
Known Unknowns
- Shipped to where?
- Did test indicate a negative or a positive?
- Purpose of test?
He checked the list of names on the Miskatonic paper again and wrote:
Why only females tested? (Fertility? Privacy? Expediency?) The last was guesswork, for all he knew they tested all women, whether of childbearing age or not. There was the chance that they gave men the same test too, and for reasons of their own performed the tests separately-though the Kurians were not known for breaking up families and couples, it made groups of humans easier to handle.
Statistically, being one out of fifty in the Kurian Zone meant bad news for Gail Foster-formerly Gail Post. In his time undercover in the Kurian Zone Valentine had seen dozens-strike that, hundreds-of instances where the Kurians had culled humans into a large group and a small group.
The small groups never lasted long.
Were they checking for a disease or infirmity that meant she only had a short time to live? The Kurians used humans the way banks exchanged currency; perhaps a human only counted as a human if it could be expected to survive more than one year.
Valentine looked at himself in the shard of mirror on the wall. The single bare bulb in the wall cut shadows under his eyes and jawline. You're a glass-is-half-empty kind of guy, Valentine.
Maybe she scored supergenius on a test and was being shipped off to learn some kind of Kurian technology. Maybe she had a special skill that would keep her comfortably employed in the Kurian Order to a ripe old age.
Or maybe she showed up on some list as a refugee, and was shipped back to her original owners faster than you could say Dred Scott.
The other thing he'd learned from Father Max was that the first step in discovering a few Unknown Unknowns was to answer the Known Unknowns.
So much to do. He'd have Ahn-Kha take Hank to a boarding school. He didn't want the boy to become just another camp extra until he enlisted at fifteen. He'd have to arrange for transport for both of them, and for himself to Pine Bluff and the Miskatonic.
He had one promise to keep before starting this new page. Even if it was a page he didn't know that he was up to turning. Just as well Post had given him this. At least he had something to do with his leave other than fret.
* * * *
Hank brought in breakfast. The boy looked as gray and bleary as a Minnesota October, and Valentine smelled more beer and vomit on him.
"How about a little yogurt, Hank?" Val said, holding up what passed for yogurt in Texarkana to the boy. He lifted a spoonful and let it drop with a plop.
"No, sir, I'm-already ate," the boy said, putting his burn-scarred hand under his nose. He fled, and Valentine chuckled into his bran mash.
"Are you up early or late?" Duvalier groaned. She rolled over and looked at the window. "Early."
"No, late. It's almost nine. I think everyone slept in."
She reached down into her covers. "Water?"
