by Sarah Noffke
“I know, Clare,” Dr. Harrison said to one of the chickens he was holding. “I’m working on your pen now. Give me another day, and you’ll have a proper place to lay your eggs.”
“Dr. Harrison, do you still practice any of your old hypnosis strategies?” Julianna pressed.
The man held the chicken up to his ear, like it was a telephone. “Aunt Daisy, I’ve had the best day at the farm. Let me tell you all about it.”
“Jules,” Eddie said, his voice a hush. “I don’t know if this is going to work. This guy is—”
“Acting,” she said firmly, cutting him off.
“What?” Eddie asked, his brow wrinkling.
Dr. Harrison spun around, the chicken still clutched to his ear. “Aunt Daisy, I have to go.”
“Doctor, I read your file,” Julianna began, “It is very curious indeed. I had my AI cross-reference your symptoms with those of a dozen other patients displaying the same ones. Do you know what we found?”
“That those poor souls died a miserable and lonely death?” Dr. Harrison asked, suddenly scratching his flaky skin. “I’m certain my shingles are back. And my restless leg syndrome is worse than ever; it’s going to be a long night for sure.”
Julianna ignored his complaints. “Pip and I discovered that those patients were all faking. What I can’t figure out, though,” she continued, “is why someone with your education in mental illness would do the same.”
Eddie spun around to face her, a look of shock on his face. “He’s faking? Are you sure? When were you going to tell me that?” He sounded offended.
“Now,” she told him simply.
Dr. Harrison looked to the right and then to the left, as if trying to find a way out of the conversation.
“Doctor, we’re not here to hurt you,” Julianna stated. “We need your help. If you can give us that, then maybe we can do the same for you. That’s got to be better than pretending to be crazy for the rest of your life.”
Dr. Harrison slid the rubber chickens off his bed and took a seat, looking defeated. “Pretending to be crazy is better than lying in a casket.”
“So you are faking it,” Eddie declared triumphantly.
The man nodded.
“Why, though?” Julianna asked. “And why are you, an expert in mental illness, displaying every symptom imaginable?”
“The treatment of mental illness has progressed rapidly under the Federation,” Dr. Harrison explained. “We can stabilize even the most serious cases of mental illness, which means most patients are released from this institute within three years.”
“But you can’t be released if you have an illness that’s not classified,” Julianna stated, figuring it out at once.
“Now the question remains, why are you faking being crazy?” Eddie asked.
“How easy was it for you to get in here?” Dr. Harrison asked.
“Well, for a normal person, it would have taken a formal written request, a submission of identification records to the board, and a background check, along with a pat-down upon entry,” Julianna stated.
“I’m guessing you’re not normal people,” Dr. Harrison said with a morbid laugh.
“We work for a powerful man,” Julianna said. “You also have probably guessed that we’re not the bad guys who are trailing you.”
“No because they have fish breath and a dorsal fin,” Dr. Harrison explained.
“So the Trid are after you,” Eddie summated.
Dr. Harrison nodded. “You must have connections to get in here so easily. For most it takes a clearance and cutting through a lot of red tape.”
“You’ve been faking being crazy to remain protected inside this facility?” he asked. “What kind of life is that?”
“It’s an easy one,” Dr. Harrison admitted. “I’ve worked my entire life, tirelessly producing research for journals and doing everything I can to make myself an asset to the mental health community. Now I wake up, do what I like and eat pudding for breakfast. It’s really the life I’ve been pining for.”
“Then your secret is safe with us,” Julianna stated. “But in return, we’d like you to take one last patient.”
She stepped to the side and presented Knox, who had been standing in the corner like a shadow.
The bed smells like the old man, Knox noted as he nestled deeper into the sheets.
“That’s it,” Dr. Harrison encouraged. “Make yourself comfortable. The more relaxed you are, the better.”
Right, Knox thought. Just lay down in a stranger’s bed and relax. No big deal.
“With your eyes closed, I want you to continue to focus on my voice,” Dr. Harrison said. “It will be your guide. Wherever it tells you to go, you go. My voice is your ruler, and you must do whatever it says.”
Dude. This guy has some gnarly skills, if he can really control people with his voice. No wonder he’s hiding from the Trid.
“Now, even though you are incredibly relaxed, you’re not going to sleep,” Dr. Harrison ordered.
“I’m not going to sleep,” Knox said, and was surprised to hear his own voice. Whoa. I didn’t even think that...
The old man had already taken Knox through three guided meditations, mostly involving sitting calmly in the forest or lying on a beach. There was a freedom in Knox’s mind that he’d never known before.
“Let’s begin with what you did today, from the moment you woke up,” Dr. Harrison prompted.
Knox’s eyes moved under his closed lids.
“Do you recall that clearly?” Dr. Harrison asked.
“Yes,” the boy answered.
Dr. Harrison had agreed to help Knox and keep his findings confidential in exchange for Ghost Squadron’s promise to keep the doctor’s sanity a secret. Julianna and Eddie had readily agreed, and briefed the doctor on what they needed Knox to remember. They’d also given Dr. Harrison certain details about Knox’s life that would help trigger the memory.
“Good, good. Now, what about the day you were reunited with your father? Can you recall that day in its entirety?”
“Yes, I remember that day,” Knox stated.
“That’s fantastic,” Dr. Harrison said. “I want you to go back further. Can you remember the day your father took you to the aquarium?”
Knox had been seven years old, and it was one of his favorite memories. He thought of it often, so he had no trouble calling it up now.
“Yes, I can,” he answered.
“Wonderful,” Dr. Harrison cheered. “Now, can you recall the day that your father disappeared?”
Knox’s head tightened. His eyes flinched. His fingers clenched.
“Take a deep breath, my boy. It’s only a memory,” Dr. Harrison said.
Knox saw a swirling of colors: reds, blues, browns, greens. They all spiraled together until turning crisp and forming the picture of Knox’s childhood home. He was walking through it, calling out for his father. It was like the vision he’d seen in his old house, when he’d tried to recall the memory the first time.
“I see it,” Knox said, his voice a whisper.
“That’s great,” Dr. Harrison declared. “That memory is easy to recall. You can see as much of it as you want. You can zoom in on specific details, and even rewind it if you like. Did you know that?”
Knox felt his head shake. “I didn’t.”
“It’s true. That one memory is clearer than any other, and the more you study it, the more you remember. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Knox felt his mouth smile. “Yes.”
“Now, tell me what you see as you play the memory,” Dr. Harrison said, his tone neutral.
“I’m walking through my house, looking for my father,” Knox began.
“Do you find him?” Dr. Harrison asked.
Knox shook his head against the pillow. “No, I go out to his workshop. I see the Tangle Thief.”
“That’s nice. What do you do next?”
“I reach out and take it. I think it will take me to my father,” Knox said, living
it like it was his present reality. He felt the object in his hand as his fingers wrapped around it. He sucked in a breath and initiated the device. It was all coming back to him; this was where the memory had stopped before.
“Where does the Tangle Thief take you?” Dr. Harrison asked.
Knox saw only blackness. He was certain the memory had vanished, like before. He let out a breath, about to sit up and admit defeat, when he was suddenly able to make out high walls and hundreds of storage units filling the space around him. The locker in front of him popped open when his feet hit the ground, after being transported. Inside the drawer was another Tangle Thief, both the receptor and client pieces.
“Area 126,” Knox stated quietly.
“Lovely. A fine place, I’m sure,” the doctor said.
“There’s a woman…I think it’s a woman,” Knox said, speeding through the vision. Dr. Harrison was right; he could see to the end of the memory, and then rewind it. He could slow it down and hone in on details.
“A woman of sorts. Very nice. What happens next?” Dr. Harrison asked.
Knox bolted upright in the bed, suddenly breathless. He’d fast forwarded until he’d seen where the hologram had sent him.
Eddie and Julianna were both staring at him with wide eyes.
“You’re not supposed to come out until I say,” the doctor admonished.
Knox was trying to pull oxygen into his lungs. “I saw where Kyra sent me. I was placed under the protection of Alleira. In Sunex.”
After a moment of shocked silence, Julianna turned to Eddie. “Where you were nearly blown to bits…” Her voice was haunted.
Chapter Eleven
Fat Cat’s Karaoke Bar, Onyx Station, Paladin System
Visiting hours had ended shortly after Knox’s revelation. With a reminder from Dr. Harrison of the promise they’d made, the members of Ghost Squadron left the good doctor to himself.
Eddie was happy they had a lead, and that they were familiar with Alleira and her people. They’d helped to protect them from the Brotherhood, so Eddie was certain that they’d be happy to return the favor and tell them what happened to Knox while he was with them.
“You don’t remember anything after being transported to Sunex?” Julianna asked Knox for the tenth time.
He shook his head. His mohawk had gone limp and now lay on one side of his head, seemingly exhausted, just like Knox.
Undergoing hypnosis must be taxing, Julianna mused.
“I remember landing and meeting Alleira. That’s it,” he admitted.
“How were you even able to resist the hypnosis and come out early?” Julianna asked.
“Like Dr. Harrison said, it’s all suggestive,” Knox said, stirring his drink. He hadn’t taken a sip yet, and most of the ice had melted.
“We’ve got a place to look next, and that’s better than what we had before our little visit,” Eddie said, taking a sip of his beer.
“And we have shots,” Lars chimed in, setting four shot glasses down on the table and nearly spilling them.
“Shots?” Julianna asked, looking between the overfilled glasses and then to Lars. “When did you become the alcoholic of the group?”
“He made me get them,” Lars said, pointing at Eddie.
“Guilty as charged,” Eddie said, waving Chester and Marilla forward. They were carrying their own shots from the bar, eyeing the drinks like they were lava.
“You won’t be happy until you have the whole crew sloshed, will you?” Julianna asked him.
“I think we need a little time off, is all,” Eddie said, lifting his shot glass in the air. “Cheers to being a part of a great team, who I’d fight a pack of giraffe assassins to protect.”
Julianna lifted her glass and paused. “Giraffe assassins?”
“With telescoping legs and necks,” Chester sang, clinking his glass with the others.
“Cheers,” everyone said in unison, before tossing back their heads and downing their drinks.
“Wow, that burns,” Marilla choked out, gripping her throat.
“Does it?” Julianna asked, placing her shot glass in the row with her other empties.
Eddie threw his thumb in her direction. “This woman has hair on her chest. Don’t listen to her.”
Julianna had abandoned her blazer and unbuttoned her blouse a couple notches. “I find it a little insulting that, since I can handle my liquor, I’m being compared to a man.”
Marilla nodded defiantly. “I agree. I think we should turn those references around on these guys.”
“Come on, ladies,” Eddie urged. “It’s not like that.”
“No, no,” Julianna argued. “When someone is a coward, what do you usually say?”
Eddie looked to Lars for support, but the lieutenant had found his drink and was using it as a distraction. “I-I-I usually say they should grow a pair.”
“Exactly!” Julianna said, taking a drink. “Do you mean a pair of boobs?”
“I mean—”
“And the other day, what did you call that pirate who’d looted a bunch of ships?” Julianna asked, leaning back and looking interested in the answer.
“The one I threw off the upper deck of the ship he’d stolen?” Eddie asked, needing to clarify. There had been so many pirates that it was easy to get confused.
“That’s the one,” Julianna sang.
“I think I called him a pussy,” Eddie said meekly.
“Oh, right,” Julianna took the shot that Chester handed to her.
The hacker also pushed one in Marilla’s direction. He was staying quiet during this witch hunt; Eddie wished he could do the same, but he’d already been tied to the stake.
“Hey, I call jerks ‘dicks’,” Eddie argued. “I’m not sexist.”
“Jerks are dicks,” Julianna stated.
Eddie lifted his beer, trying to catch Julianna’s eye, but she had her gaze stubbornly on the table. Is she actually mad about this? Or about something else? He wished he could ask Pip.
“I sincerely apologize if I offended you ladies,” he said. “I’ll quit calling dumb fuckers by gender-specific names, and comparing you to a man when you do something totally badass. I hope you know I’m capable of change.”
Everyone at the table fell silent, and their gazes fell on Julianna, like they were waiting for her lead.
She finally lifted her eyes, a sort-of-smile on her face. “I think, Captain, that you can be a real dick.” She paused before lifting her glass. “But for that matter, so can I. All is forgiven when you can admit your mistakes.”
It’s a little hypocritical, that’s all I’m saying.
Julianna ground her teeth together. Pip was right, but admitting it was difficult.
You’re guilty of gender-specific name-calling, too. It’s not just the captain.
Yeah, whatever. The captain had it coming.
Did he?
He did.
Because…
He breathes too loudly while I’m flying.
Pip made an audible gasp. Say it isn’t so? Blasphemy.
It’s annoying.
Does he also snore while sleeping?
How would I know?
I’ll tell you when I’m linked with him. I’ll tell you all sorts of things.
Julianna tried her best to ignore Pip, pretending to pay attention to the karaoke singer who was making a debauchery of “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC.
From the look on Eddie’s face, he was just as unhappy about the travesty.
“Is nothing sacred anymore?” he asked her, running his finger over the rim of his glass.
“We’re in a karaoke bar. What do you expect?” she asked, pushing her empty glass in his direction.
“Is that your subtle way of asking for me to get you another drink?” Eddie asked, his face full of amusement.
“That’s my subtle way of saying ‘if I’m not supplied with more whiskey, then the guy onstage is going to lose a limb’,” Julianna said.
Eddie stood and bowed
slightly. “Then I’m honored to be a part of this public service.”
Julianna didn’t remember when she’d last drank this much. It wasn’t that she was drunk, but she was buzzed, which was rare. She strangely felt like saying something supportive to Knox, who was still sulking. Or maybe she’d say something nice to Lars, who actually looked to be having a good time as he tapped his foot to the horrible music.
They must not have good music on Kezza, she thought.
Then she turned to Marilla. The girl looked—well, there was no better way to say it. She looked miserable. Maybe it was being on Onyx Station, which was vibrating with life and diverse experiences.
Is ship life starting to get to Marilla? She is used to sunshine and trekking through the forest on archeological digs…
“Hey, Marilla?” Julianna said, getting her attention.
The woman looked up, faking a smile. “Yes?”
“Do you want to go with us to Nexus? The land of Sunex is considered safe; maybe you can offer some insight when we’re dealing with the natives,” Julianna said.
Marilla nodded, her mood seeming to brighten. “That would be lovely. Thanks.”
“Then it’s settled,” Julianna said.
She noticed that Knox perked up at the mention of Sunex. She imagined he was probably both longing to track down the Tangle Thief and dreading it. There was a lot riding on his shoulders, and anything she might say in an attempt to comfort him would be a lie, so she decided not to say anything.
“Okay, thanks to Greg for the fantastic rendition of ‘Thunderstruck’,” the karaoke DJ said over the microphone.
“‘Fantastic’?” Eddie said in disbelief, sliding a drink next to Julianna as he took a seat.
“The guy is obviously deaf,” Julianna said, nodding her thanks in the direction of the shot of whiskey.