Attribution

by Christine Horner

  Truby lay on her back in the dark and took it. She’d take it to the end until the light came, or it didn’t. Either way, it would all be over soon enough.

  CHAPTER 56

  2023 :: Munich, Germany — Her father lay motionless in his hospital bed. Three feet away in a wheelchair with bandages around her head and an I.V. in her arm, Hemmy turned her little Ganesha elephant over and over in her palm.

  Hemmy’s tears plopped down onto the symbol of her and her father’s special relationship between her fingers. He’d once told Hemmy to admit when she didn’t understand something and Ganesha would help her. He’d been right. All through the global water project, she had encountered difficulties that had to be solved. Each time, she’d sat and meditated with Ganesha around her neck. The answers always came.

  Why weren’t they coming now? Was it her fault?

  “Daddy, I know you can’t hear me,” she sniffled, the tears coming harder. “But, I need to tell you something.”

  Just then, a robust charge nurse hurriedly entered Hatchett’s room to collect her patient. Knowing they were being watched, she bent toward Hemmy to adjust the I.V where it dripped fluid into her arm.

  Speaking softly, “Honey, I’m going to wheel you out as quickly as I can so you don’t have to talk to the people waiting outside the door. I’m warning you because it might make you dizzy.”

  Outside Thomas Hatchett’s room, Frohm and Young stood in front of the one-way glass in the private military hospital. If either man felt anything at all, it was for the little girl who’d given so much. As far as they were concerned, Hatchett had no one to blame but himself.

  “I wonder if she fully understands,” Young skillfully deflected, really probing whether the General fully understood what he’d done. Young was sure Frohm had gone soft, or worse, when he’d first gotten the orders regarding Hatchett and his darknet team of outlaws.

  “She’s a genius, isn’t she? If not, she’ll figure it out.”

  The heartbroken girl stared a moment longer at her father. “Daddy, I have to go. I’ll tell you later. Okay.”

  Her caregiver unlocked the mobile chair’s wheellocks, making a rapid, sharp turn. Hemmy looked at the glass to see who was waiting for her, but she saw only her own pain-filled reflection.

  Darting out of the room, Hemmy’s nurse rushed her down the wide hallway in the opposite direction from which she’d arrived.

  “Nurse?”

  The charge nurse didn’t stop.

  “Retiring early without benefits, are we?” boomed Frohm all the way down the hall.

  The nurse stopped, her back to the men. She bent down to whisper she was sorry before bringing the girl back. She’d been a government employee long enough to know without the details that whatever was in store for the child most likely wouldn’t be in her best interest. It wasn’t her job to know or care. But, this time a child was involved.

  “Hemmy. Will you please look at me?”

  Hemmy’s dressed head hung low even though she knew it wasn’t a request. She didn’t feel good.

  “I know I seem like I’m the bad guy right now,” Young tried again. “But you understand this is for your safety, don’t you?”

  Hemmy gave the smallest of nods.

  “In a few years, after your operation, you can go on with your life. You have a bright future ahead of you. Heck, you can even come work for me!”

  Frohm’s face registered his disapproval. If it wasn’t in a memo, it wasn’t happening.

  Hemmy finally lifted her head, “I just want my family back.”

  Young bent down on one knee. “I wish I could wave my magic wand and make that happen. But I’m not the one who took your family away.”

  The nurse harrumphed in condemnation before skewering both Young and Frohm with her eyes. Retirement or no retirement, she abruptly wheeled Hemmy away.

  ___

  Young slipped in the surgical suite’s observation deck behind four seated surgeons and fellows.

  “A reminder, ladies, and gentlemen, you are not to discuss what you hear and see today with anyone without a security clearance,” said the highest-ranking member closest to Young. “As we follow this irregular case, be advised the usual mandatory social reassignment with two-year psyche evaluation was waived to protect the patient’s identity.”

  Young heard one of the fellows loudly express her sentiment, inhaling sharply. “Jesus.”

  Maybe Frohm wasn’t as soft as Young thought. He knew of outed undercover operatives who’d undergone gender reassignment so they could go back into the field or retire safely. Young would rather be dead.

  “This is the first father and daughter to undergo gender reassignment concurrently,” the chief of surgery informed his waiting team and the observation deck. “The child’s transition will occur in stages as the pubescent matures.”

  Truby tossed and turned on her cot throughout the night, talking in her sleep, “No... can’t!”

  Her subconscious would not relent. The night burned on for what felt like years.

  CHAPTER 57

  2024 :: Munich, Germany — Thomas stared out the window of his hospital room into the courtyard wondering if the ringing in his ears would ever stop. He was naked from the waist up except for bandaging around his chest and a drainage tube. He’d ruptured one of the damn things forgetting he had them.

  This wasn’t happening, he thought. None of this. It was all too bizarre to be real. Claire! Our girls! I never got to say goodbye, his mind screamed. But he’d done it for Hemmy.

  To a degree, even Obaba and the Hatchett crew had been a factor. The government was threatening the harshest, most inhumane treatment for everyone involved if Thomas didn’t agree to their every stipulation. Frohm and Young had then utilized the military’s latest artificial intelligence capabilities to generate a psyche evaluation that revealed something totally unexpected. By aggregating Thomas’s accumulated data history, AI came up with Immersive Identity Transformation along with asset reassignment as an alternative to costly lifetime imprisonment.

  In a surprise move, Frohm had signed off on AI’s plan before spending several hours in Thomas’s hospital room quietly explaining it to him as if it were a brilliant win-win solution that also kept the Hatchett crew out of prison, rather than the dictate it really was.

  Maybe acceptance would come easily. He’d always felt his gender could have gone either way. He’d let the sex organs he’d been born with decide for him whereas Hemmy’s generation was encouraged to explore gender and sexual orientation regardless of the package one arrived in.

  After a few relationships in both camps, he’d met Claire and fallen hard. She was strong-willed and well-balanced, accepting and loving Thomas for who he was, even when it changed from day to day. Some days he played the strong man and husband, other days Claire was the strength behind them both. They had been a good match.

  God, he needed strength right now. He needed her. He needed his family.

  Right now, he just felt confusion. Competing with the high-pitched tone incessantly running in his head for weeks like an emergency broadcast signal was Young’s voice. He had surely descended into the bowels of Thomas’s hell to be his instrument of torture.

  “Truby Claire Goodman, you agree you will not attempt to contact your remaining daughter—er, son—now or anytime in the future.” Young retraced his steps around the private hospital rehabilitation room as he read the lengthy documents.

  Two other lower ranking officers acted as witnesses while processing the completed legal forms.

  “In fact, a permanent restraining order bars you from being within a ten-mile radius. Truby Claire Goodman. Nice touch adding your late wife’s name, by the way. You can thank me for allowing it, though it was against my better judgment. Truby Claire Goodman, you agree never to reveal your past identity, to avoid contact with past associates and to comply with standard witness protection rules and regulations.

  “This is the biggie.” Growing fatigued as
Thomas grew numb, Young slid a chair bedside. “In a plea deal, you and all your Hatchett Report buddies, including Obaba, will not be prosecuted under the full extent of international law provided you and your do-gooders keep your noses clean.” Young paused to look up pointedly, “Wasn’t my idea, for the record.

  “You, name, name... Here it is. Truby Claire Goodman, agree to utilize your talents for the good of the United States government.” Interrupting himself to gloat, “I’m going to be your boss, Goodman, you got that?”

  Thomas, or Truby now, didn’t respond, his eyes affixed on the sinking sun that would plunge him and the world into darkness.

  “Goodman, you getting all this?” Young tapped Thomas/Truby’s raised bed railing with his computer tablet to get a rise. He found it eerie to be talking to a shell of a man, literally.

  “Goodman, that’s your surname now. I picked it out especially for you. Good one, huh? Don’t worry; you’ll get used to being a woman. That’s what I hear anyway.” Young stood to stretch stiff muscles and joints before sitting back down. “Captain.”

  Captain Gardels handed Thomas/Truby the binding legal agreement for his signature. “Thumbprint, please. Retinal scan, too.”

  Thomas/Truby finally made eye contact with Young. On hormone therapy for months now, he no longer had facial hair. His—her—head hurt. Her entire body ached. She hurt in places that could never be touched. She took the legal computer tablet, studying it a moment as if preparing to sign her life away.

  Truby lifted her arm as high as the pain would allow and threw a slider, the electronic device sailing toward a Young too shocked to react quickly enough.

  CHAPTER 58

  2036 :: Americas Sector M9-48B :: New Las Vegas

  “Move out! Showers and toilets are down the hall. You have sixty seconds to exit this room, or you will be locked inside.”

  It was the hollow slam of the blackout room door against the wall behind it by a National Guard soldier pretending to be tough that awoke Truby and her sleeping companions out of their restless slumber.

  Stone-faced Private Colby Holt refused any eye contact. “I suggest you take advantage of this opportunity immediately!” Holt yelled at stragglers.

  Blinding daylight from the hall along with a plethora of unpleasant aromas co-mingled in the room to reveal the space was just an ordinary conference room with a FEMA portable toilet standing in one corner. A conference room where?

  Stretching and groaning, those closest to the door were rousted out by an influx of fresh air, and the thought that food might not be far behind. Truby turned onto her side on her creaking cot, hiding under a disposable blanket.

  “Truby, it’s a beautiful new day, from what I can see,” offered Pete.

  “My life is crap.” She pushed herself deeply under the blanket made from recycled plastic.

  “Thomas Ruby Hatchett, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Are you going to quit just when it’s gettin’ good?”

  Truby lowered the blanket to reveal terror-filled eyes. White as a sheet, “How, how long?”

  Pete waved her off, “Relax, I’m not on anybody’s team. You won’t understand this until you’re my age but, your life doesn’t belong to you.”

  “What life, Pete?” Truby sat up, her chest rising and falling with intense emotion. “What life?” she nearly yelled. “I’m neither man nor woman.”

  He shrugged inconsequentially, “You’re both male and female. So am I. We all are. Everything in all the Universe embodies both feminine and masculine energies on every plane, no combination alike.” He squeezed her arm, “There is no one like you, Truby. Then, now or ever.”

  Truby was beyond angry at what life had dealt her. She firmly held her hands to her head, rocking into the shrill high-pitched ringing growing in intensity. Getting louder, it was as bad as after the drone had delivered the explosives killing Claire and Devlin in Oslo. She cried out. Pete sat with her quietly, a warm, firm hand on her back where her heart was.

  Rose rushed into the room. “Pops, Vegas is awesome! Sway thinks they’ll erase our memories later…”

  Realizing she’d interrupted something important she stood quietly waiting, ready to assist if needed. After a moment, Pete nodded.

  Rose stood over Truby doubled over from the physical and emotional pain that bargained for her soul.

  Pete looked deeply into Rose’s eyes, “Her mind is at war with her heart. She’s lost her way. Help her find it.”

  At the tender age of seven, Rose understood immediately. An Alpha born with the gift of transmutation like her father, she gently laid one hand on Truby’s chest over her heart. With Pete’s hand still over her heart on her back, they each placed a free hand on the crown of Truby’s head, pushing fingers past wavy hair to an overheating skullcap.

  Truby immediately responded as if she’d received an electric shock. They stayed with her several long minutes. Rose closed her eyes. Pete watched the door willing away anyone who might come. Finally, Truby’s stiff body softened as she collapsed onto her cot.

  With Rose stroking her hair and Pete holding her hand, she finally spoke. Tears ran down her cheeks, “I saw them. Claire and Devlin. My wife and daughter.”

  “And?” urged Pete.

  “My wife told me,” She started to laugh. “Claire told me,” Truby laughed so hard she began to cry. This time, it was happy tears. The throbbing pain and ringing in her ears were gone. She rapidly sat up, grabbing Pete by the shoulders. “She said to play a damn good game.”

  “And what of Hemmy?” he let it hang.

  Truby searched Pete’s face anxiously. She didn’t have an answer. For all she knew, Hemmy never wanted to see her again.

  Pete worried Truby might relapse. He smiled with confidence to encourage his friend to think a new thought.

  “Pete? Who the hell are these people here and at the Inn that came with you to Vegas?”

  “Don’t ask me. ‘Investigate’ and find out for yourself.” He winked at Truby before slowly standing on worn-out knees that had walked far too many miles. Shuffling toward the door, “But, I guess you already knew Vegas was just fine, didn’t you?

  CHAPTER 59

  Lt. General Young watched out the front of Tina as they flew across New Las Vegas skies. His BioID privacy setting allowed only Young and his driver, on loan from the C.I.A., to hear their conversation. The specially enhanced BioID essentially threw up a protective white noise barrier to create a secure communication field in an open group setting. It was useful in mixed company. In this case, it was imperative Young sort out the situation at hand before debriefing the General sitting in the back seat.

  “Sir, we brought her in per your orders.”

  “Then you let her go? What about her BioID?”

  “Disabled.” Zedd redirected, “When the sergeant in charge briefly left his post, a lower ranking soldier mistakenly gave her and the others free reign of the family fun complex.”

  “Christ on a crutch! She can’t go far. Find her before she causes trouble. Report anything, no matter how small to me immediately. If Frohm catches wind, he’ll send us both to the rack.”

  In DupliCity’s Operations Central Command and Security tower controlled by the GSC, Vice-President Olivia Flores prepped in front of a green screen for a live broadcast.

  “That’s fine, Uri.” Seated in a tall chair with a footrest, Flores brusquely pushed her makeup artist’s hand away. “Sarah, is that script ready yet? And get me the latest sector crime stats!”

  “Madame Vice-President,” GSC General Stenberg leaned down, speaking soothingly into the unhappy woman’s ear.

  An unblemished political career, virtually unheard of these days, Flores was the public relations face of this operation even more so than the GSC’s Arya who lacked likability.

  “Olivia, please. Reports are coming in of minor violence and looting in a few sectors.”

  “Exactly my concern, General! We are day three into this mess, and I’m extremely uncomfortable.”
<
br />   “Nothing unexpected, of course, given the situation,” he spoke gently wooing the tempestuous woman. “But if you please, the tone of this brief needs to be calming and self-assured.”

  Moments, later, Flores sat in a tall director’s chair facing the camera as if a daytime talk show host to appear more casual and relaxed to her audience—the world. Her scenic green screen scrolled through small towns filled with happy citizens shopping at farmer’s markets.

  The ceiling-mounted video camera digitally counted down from five. Olivia instantly turned on the easygoing charm. “Good morning and good evening global citizens. As we work through an unexpected series of events as a global family, I’m happy to report that sectors are finding innovative ways to work together cooperatively. Here are a few reports coming in from around the world.”

  A newsfeed taking over, Flores stood angrily before storming off the set. “If I find out you’ve left out a single detail, there will be hell to pay!”

  Waiting until the Vice-President left the room, “That is what we call fury unleashed,” said General Frohm from across the room.

  “It’ll be worse than that if we don’t get this right.” Stenberg activated his BioID privacy setting, then folded his arms defensively. “Don’t fall for your own illusions of grandeur, Frohm. The only reason the United States is co-leading this operation is that your citizenry is so... gullible, shall we say?”

  Stenberg ended the private transmission when Young slid in next to Frohm. Loudly across the room, Stenberg called, “Are you two gentlemen prepared for the most important meeting on behalf of humanity?”

  “Absolutely, sirs,” said Young.

  Stenberg’s pointed gaze became an unspoken warning before leaving through the security doors.

  “It’s a shame he fails to recall America’s long-standing history of ingenuity,” quipped Frohm. “Good for us! Terrance, is there anything you need to tell me?”