Sinking onto the edge of a chair next to the stand holding my IV bag, I tried to get my brain to cooperate. The surroundings were unfamiliar and far too white. The lack of color hurt my eyes.
“Whe…?” The word wouldn’t come out. I tried to lick my lips. They were so parched, I half expected them to be cracked or bleeding, but they were just dry. Saliva seemed to be a precious resource, so I tried to swallow a little, then tried again. “Where?”
Speaking should not require so much damn effort. The teeth chattering began, a good sign. If my body could begin involuntary motion then it was warming up.
A white nylon bodysuit hugged my legs and torso. The fabric seemed like a second skin, but the more I trembled, the more it seemed to itch.
“You are currently located in Suite 101 of the Rescue One project.”
Project? What the hell was the computer talking about? Lifting my head, even though it seemed to weigh a ton, I managed to lean back in the chair. The effort was exhausting. The bag was a third down, but my thoughts were still foggy. It was taking time to get my bearings.
Gradually, the display came into sharp relief. The IV was definitely doing its job. I could see the data more clearly—my name and vitals were listed next to a full body scan image. Blue and red highlighted along my extremities. A heat and cold pattern?
“Who am I?” The words came out hoarse, but no longer a croak. Was there actual water to drink in the room? Beyond the sitting area where I’d settled, were two doors. Hopefully one led to a bathroom.
Hang on for us.
“Dr. Valda Bashan, lead researcher Rescue One. Security clearance Alpha.”
Lead researcher? The hangover needed to go away. When did I become a lead researcher? I worked alone and only consulted with a rarified few. The world still held scientists in deep contempt. Signing onto a project was tantamount to putting a target on my back, particularly with my last name.
“Parameters of program?”
Believe for us.
“The Rescue One is an isolation project for survival. It has one mission. Escape.”
Escape?
A dull thud began behind my eyes, and I reached up with my free hand to massage the temple.
“Date of project inception?” Since my brain wasn’t cooperating.
“Today. October 15, 2065.” I was still grappling with the date when the computer added, “A pain reliever can be found in the dispensary on the wall. A recommended dosage is 500 milligrams of acetaminophen, 500 milligrams of aspirin, and fifty milligrams of caffeine. Please take with water and a protein bar to prevent stomach acid regurgitation.”
Helpful.
Rising, I tested the strength in my legs. They were still wobbly. Using the IV stand for balance, I walked to the dispensary. The organization of the listed medications made preparing a spray easy enough. My hands were shaking as I added the components to the injector. Right eye twitching in time to the throbbing in my head, I put the injector to my arm and pressed the release. The sharp stab was brief, but the promised relief would take longer.
Since I was already up, I made my way across the room. The IV stand flowed easily over the tiled floor. The white was going to drive me crazy. I needed more color in this place, if I was supposed to use it for work.
The kitchen was right around the corner. A bottle of water and a protein bar sat on the island as though I’d placed it there for myself earlier. The trembling in my extremities increased the longer I was on my feet. Carrying the supplies, I returned to the chair outside the lifepod.
It took a moment to get the packaging opened, but the water tasted fantastic. The coldness on my throat soothed the rawness.
Lifepod.
Lifepods were theoretical constructs for deep space travel, allowing passengers to slow the natural aging and damaging process of years aboard a ship to reach another celestial body. The sinking feeling in my gut couldn’t be ignored. I hate those things…but why?
The room was barren of any personality or color—except for a ruby red throw blanket over the sofa. It helped remove the institutional feel.
“Am I still on Earth?”
“I do not recognize that inquiry.”
Really, the computer didn’t want to provide helpful data? The lifepod concept couldn’t be that theoretical, if I’d just come out of one. They were being studied in limited capacity for protecting seed storage and food supplies, particularly after the fall of genetically modified crops and the toxic poisoning of so many fields.
If I’d been in one, it would explain the weight loss, the dehydration, the mild shock, and the need for supplies ready and waiting for my emergence.
But how long had I been in it?
Humans as a species were untrustworthy creatures. We didn’t deserve what we had left of a world we’d abused, much less to pollute another planet.
We’ll be back… You owe me a night next time.
After washing down the unpleasant bite with more water, I glanced at the monitor. My vitals were still steady. The heat scan had evened out and the teeth chattering shakes had stopped. My visual acuity improved, and the bag was only half gone.
“Parameters of the mission.”
“Parameters require the undertaking of survival and escape. Everyone you need is available within the facility.”
“Everyone?”
Hope.
“A crew of five rescuers including research lead, Dr. Bashan.”
We’re forever. Believe that.
So, four more people. “Where are they?”
A map appeared on the screen, and it gave me my first real look at the layout. I was in the north section. Four other suites were illuminated in blue beyond the green chamber, which was most likely mine.
“Their status?”
Hope.
The screen shifted, and four sets of life signs appeared. They were all far too low.
“All participants, except Dr. Bashan, remain in suspension. Scheduled awakening is in twenty-three hours and three minutes.”
Twenty-four hours after me. Fantastic. They woke the doctor first.
Hopefully one of them would have a clue as to how I signed on. “Term of assignment?”
“Unknown.”
Stomach bottoming out, I stared at the display.
“Unknown?”
“I do not understand the inquiry.”
“Me neither.” I groaned and rubbed my head. “Do I have a workstation?” If I’d taken the job, I would have brought my own equipment, right? My personal computer? My journals?
“Dr. Bashan’s workstation is on B-Level, Medlab.”
That didn’t help, not even with the pretty little map.
“Do I have a datapad? Laptop? Something?” I used a digital tablet. Of course, according to the calendar that was five years ago. Images of a party, Dubai, and fireworks flashed briefly through my mind as the pulse of the headache eased.
“All personal items are located in storage.” No map appeared, but a drawer on the far side of the room illuminated.
That worked.
Abandoning the water and protein bar, I staggered over and opened the indicated storage compartment. Inside was a datapad, a t-shirt, and a pen with a chewed head.
That was it?
I lived light, but that was ridiculous. Removing the datapad, I activated it with my thumbprint. A sensation of déjà vu washed over me. Shivering, I tried to dispel the sense of impending doom. I needed to know whatever information the datapad held.
The date on the pad matched that of the computer’s display, and an incoming message began flashing on the screen. Carrying it back over to my seat, I sank back and closed my eyes. I was out of breath.
The physical effects of the lifepod weren’t easily shaken. I needed to finish the protein bar, hydrate more, and maybe sleep for a few hours. All of which just irritated me.
Hitting play on the message, I stared at the screen as data began to scroll.
“Good morning.” The voice on the messa
ge gave me a jolt. It was Dirk.
How did I…?
The information coalesced into a video. I knew him. Beside him, three other men. Something tickled in the back of my mind. I knew them all. “We’re coming, Valda…hang on.”
The chill evaporated, and I traced each of their images with my fingers. The message replayed.
“We’re coming, Valda…hang on.”
Define love.
They were coming.
I’d hold them to the promise, and I’d hold on.
They were coming, and I would be here.
The Rescue One mission will resume in Their Sacrifice.
Get a sneak peek on the next page
Sneak Peek, Their Sacrifice
“Try again, fail again. Fail better.” - Samuel Beckett
Valda Bashan is trapped, but she is far from alone. Andreas, Hatch, Oz, and Dirk are all fighting to stay at her side as they work their way through a puzzling prison. The greater struggle for Valda is rebuilding the trust between the five of them. She doesn’t have their memories, but her guys have proved they’ll start over again as many times as needed. When Oz discovers they are on the clock, the pressure ramps. It will take every one of them working together to solve the riddling path to freedom. As they pull apart their lives to help her rebuild hers, Valda and her men will be tested.
If they succeed, none can really tell her what waits on the other side. They’ll sacrifice everything to save her. Can she do any less?
"Try again, fail again. Fail better." - Samuel Beckett
Chapter One
OZ
Air hissed from the mask when Oz ripped it off his face. One of the computron assistants reached toward him, but he waved aside the synthetic. He’d never asked where Hatch acquired them and he didn’t plan to change it today. What he didn’t know he couldn’t be forced to testify to, or so the pirate often told him.
Ejecting from the construct hurt every single time. Andreas had been right behind him, but the priest acclimated slower during injection and exfil. Across the room, Hatch slid off his medbay bed and staggered over to the showers. His coughing indicated his lungs hadn’t adapted to the freedom of pure oxygen, but Oz only shook his head.
“Attend to Benedict,” he ordered the synthetic trying to check his own vitals. His own haggard expression shown back at him from the mirror surface metal as the assistant nodded. It would follow Hatch into the showers, and pick his sorry ass up if he collapsed in there.
Shoving off the bed, Oz headed to Dirk’s medbed. The captain lingered, his vitals were all over the place. Dammit. The man never ejected until the last possible moment, not that Oz could blame him. None of them ever wanted to leave her, especially when they knew she couldn’t follow them out and all the progress they may have made would be lost to the reset.
Andreas released a groan. A timer on the wall ticked down ominously. In a moment, everything would reset. “C’mon, man.” Oz stared at the digital read out even as he prepared the injection. Twice now, Dirk had emerged nearly psychotic from waiting too long to eject. It had cost them a month previously after he broke Oz’s arm and dislocated Andreas’ knee. If Hatch hadn’t shot him, they might have lost everything that day.
“Ten seconds,” Andreas groaned and the hiss of air accompanied his release of the oxygen mask.
“He’ll do it.” Hatch’s weary voice echoed from inside the tiled bathroom where he’d paused at the entrance. Oz didn’t waste time responding to either of them, he was just glad they were with him.
The only one allowed inside the Hexagon while they were injected was the assistant.
“Five seconds.”
For once, Oz wished Andreas would just shut up. The assistant’s footfalls echoed across the room in time with the countdown.
Dirk’s eyes jerked open at the one-second mark, and though his pupils were fatly dilated, awareness filled in rapidly. Oz blew out a breath, but kept the sedative ready. His men outside would be alerted to the return of their leader. A whole unit, prepared to follow him into fire, secured Valda’s facility while the four of them worked to retrieve her from the coma.
“Alert, mental reset commencing. Twenty-four hours until safe injection.” The impersonal nature of the system’s computer didn’t alleviate the stress of knowing for the next twenty-four hours, no matter what happened—Valda was alone.
Dirk blinked once, then twice. Gradually his pupils shrunk from the size of saucers. He zeroed his gaze onto Oz’s, then gave him a hand trembling thumb’s up. Psychotic episode averted, Doctor Oz could stand down and let the friend out. He nodded and stowed the sedative before walking to the window separating them from the enhancement chamber.
Inside the clean room, Valda Bashan slept as if unaware of everything that transpired in the last few weeks. They’d had to leave her behind, still trapped in her coma.
Another failure.
Hatch joined him, still dripping from the shower. With white knuckles, he braced himself against the railing and stared into the room. “Positive cycle.” They could all read the monitors, but Hatch had appointed himself in charge of the equipment he’d brought in. The man might very well be a rogue, but he was also a hell of an engineer. “In an hour, we’ll see the scenario she’s chosen.”
They could program in all they liked, but for the construct to take—Valda herself had to accept it. If she pushed too hard or doubted too much, the construct itself would begin to collapse. That had been the source of numerous problems in the beginning. They’d just wanted to program in the information so she could follow the breadcrumbs right out of the medical sleep.
Those constructs collapsed like a house of cards. Every. Single. Time.
“She lasted longer with the truth this time.” Even when they made it to injection on her positive cycles, there was never a guarantee they’d make it long enough to soften the blow of the truth.
“It happens,” Oz reminded him. Hatch had jettisoned, as they all did periodically, to see to her physical body. She had to be washed, exercised, her muscles massaged, her nutrition feed checked, and vitamin infusions delivered. Saving her mind was their priority, but keeping her body intact was vital to assuring she had a place to return.
“I should have told someone.” Hatch’s hand tightened, and the bands along his knuckles stretched taut. “I thought I had enough time to jet, take care of her, then inject.”
Oz agreed. Had it been any one of the other mornings, he would have been right. Before, Valda ignored them while she worked. They had to coax her to come out—then she made a change in habit.
“It happens,” he repeated the earlier sentiment. “We’ll learn. We’ll adapt. We’ll do it better.”
The slam of a door behind them pulled both of their attention. Dirk sat on the edge of his medbed, but Andreas was gone. Dammit. The priest took their failures personally.
Every.
Damn.
Time.
“I’ll…” Hatch began but Oz shook his head.
“You have to monitor positive cycle. I’ll take care of Andreas. We’ll be back soon.”
They would need to plan their next injection carefully, but Oz understood Andreas even better than he did the soldier and the pirate. The priest wore the mantle for everything wrong around his shoulders. He would let it choke him to death if they allowed it.
“Take care of Dirk.” He clapped the other man on the shoulder, and said. “And towel off. You’re dripping everywhere.”
Hatch laughed, and Oz took one last look at their woman before he followed Andreas out of the Hexagon. She looked so small amidst all the machines. Every year she seemed to fade more, until all that was left was the framework of the bright and bold spirit housed within.
We’re coming. Hang on for us.
It took effort to force him to walk out. They’d all learned how to struggle with the waiting, whether it was pre or post injection. Patience was the only armor they had in the fight to free her.
Dammit, it would work
. One way or another.
DIRK
With ten minutes to go for the report on Valda’s chosen construct, Dirk stood in the center of his office. Compound security reported to his men, and his men secured the residence. A dozen members of a highly trained spec op force referred to the compound as a beach vacation. The world, however, continued to orbit beyond their trapped existence.
“Sit rep.” If he didn’t trust these men, they wouldn’t be here. He’d bled for them and they would bleed for him. They had very specific set of orders when he was under—first and foremost, protect Valda and her installation.
His two chief lieutenants filled him in on a shift in the government of the EU. The prime minister of Belgium had been assassinated. Military forces in Greece overturned their democratically elected government, installing a General as the titular head. Outbreaks had been reported in Italy, Canada, and Panama. Brazil had withdrawn fully from the health accords.
The world was continuing to go to hell in a handbasket.
Hatch slid inside and leaned against the wall. The pirate did that more and more, whether it was because he wanted to keep an eye on Dirk, be there as back up or understand all the security protocols so he could circumvent them, Dirk wasn’t entirely sure. Likely all three.
“Any word from home office?” It was the question where he never wanted to hear an affirmative answer. The unit had been deployed as a favor, but upsets back home had shifted the government to a far more isolated government flirting with a final breakaway from the commonwealth.
Over time, Dirk had come to believe they’d been forgotten and he’d given his team leave to make other arrangements if they wanted to return. None had gone. The only family they had was stationed at the compound, and they’d sworn allegiance to him. Dirk’s allegiance belonged to Valda.
If the world kept spinning toward more insurrection, he would have to build an army to keep her safe. These men were the first and last of his defensive measures beyond the four who loved her.
Fortunately, New Zealand seemed untouched by the stressors tearing apart the world. How much longer that would be true was anyone’s guess. No sooner did he dismiss them, than Dirk’s gaze tracked to the empty office next to and slightly above his own. Valda rarely used it outside of meals and the occasional late night spent reading research—but it had put her right where he could watch her back and where she could look down through the fruit trees to the beach.
Their Memoriam Page 24