SWNOVELXO Chapter 17: interogation by Rick
Rick crouched down beside Jerry, who was sprawled half-conscious on the floor like a man who'd just lost a fight with gravity and his own shoelaces, giving the kind of weak, disoriented groan that sounded more sad than hurt. Rick gave a half-hearted wave of the portal scanner over him, muttering, "You alright, Jerry? You still functioning in there or do I need to call hospice?" Jerry blinked, gave a shaky thumbs-up, and Rick snorted, straightening up and brushing his lab coat off with a flick of his wrist. But then his gaze drifted to Morty, who stood a few feet away, arms folded, eyes cool and disturbingly unmoved. Rick gave a sharp half-smirk, voice a little too casual as he said, "Not cutting him any slack, huh?" Morty met his eyes flatly and replied, voice steady, "I'm disgusted by his uselessness."
The room seemed to snap silent on that sentence. Jerry gave a soft, bewildered noise from the floor, more shock than pain, and Rick actually straightened, eyes narrowing slightly like he'd misheard. "Uh… what?" Rick said, half a laugh undercutting the words, expecting Morty to fumble, to stammer, to wave it off. But Morty didn't blink. "You're always thinking it. I'm just saying it." He delivered it without venom, without a raised voice, like it was simply a fact and somehow, that hit harder. Rick felt a muscle twitch in his jaw, something cold threading up the back of his neck.
Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small neural relay a portable memory reader and flipped it open, casually tapping it against his palm as he eyed Morty. "Huh. Let's see something real quick," Rick said lightly, voice low. He walked forward, closing the space between them with lazy steps, and pressed the relay gently against the side of Morty's head. It beeped once, a soft confirmation chime, and Rick watched the holographic projections spin out in a lazy arc around them their adventures together. Cronenberg world. Purge planet. That time they fought those vampire gym teachers. They were all there.
Rick's eyes flicked to Morty, who looked up at the spinning memories without a hint of reaction. "Alright," Rick drawled, voice low, "So… remind me. Purge planet. What was the catalyst for the civil war breaking out in sector four?" Morty didn't even blink. "You told the rebels that the high priest's food supply was tainted. They staged a coup at midnight. We escaped when you set the priest's tower on fire with nanite blood."
Rick gave a tight, humorless smile. "Okay… and Cronenberg world? What's the last thing I said before we left?" "You said, 'Don't think about it too hard, Morty.'" Morty's tone didn't shift. His delivery flawless, almost eerily so. Rick tilted his head, searching his grandson's eyes with a sharpened gaze that didn't quite blink.
"… You interrogating me?" Morty asked softly. It wasn't sharp, it wasn't even accusing just that calm, even question that slid under Rick's skin like a thread of ice. Rick gave a nervous little half-laugh, waving a hand, "No, Morty, jeez why would you think that?" "Uh huh," Morty said, deadpan, like he'd just humored a child's obvious lie. Rick felt a strange, prickling sensation crawl across his shoulders.
He wet his lips, rocking back on his heels, and then shrugged, letting the grin tilt his mouth, going for the casual bomb. "Alright, here's a better one why aren't you stuttering?" That one actually cracked the surface a little. Morty smiled faintly, not smug, just that eerie calm. "I'm trying not to. Although… it's hard. I'm managing pretty well if I say so myself."
Rick's brows drew together, watching him carefully. The silence stretched a heartbeat too long before Morty added, softer, like it was a passing observation, "It's like holding your breath. Or… not drinking. If you're an alcoholic." The air left Rick's lungs slowly. The words hung there, quiet, but carrying weight Rick couldn't pin down. Outwardly, Rick gave a slow, crooked grin, shoved his device back into his coat, and gave a lazy shrug. "Huh. Yeah. Makes sense." He turned on his heel, walking back toward the garage with an easy gait.
Inside, though? Inside, Rick's brain was turning over like a centrifuge in overdrive. Because Morty might have answered everything perfectly but nothing about this felt perfect. And nothing about this was sitting right. Not at all.
--