Marie gave a tight-lipped smile. “Juice, there are a lot of people who are excited that you’re alive.” She leaned forward to underscore her next words. “Here is some honesty. They’re not excited because they care about you as a person. Don’t get me wrong. They’re not cold or uncaring. They’ve never met you, so they just don’t know you. But they do know your reputation.
“They’re excited because, a week ago, the experts were telling us that climbing our way back up the crystal technology ladder would take fifteen to twenty years. You being alive and here means that time frame might now be five to ten years.” Marie’s face lit up. “A decade faster, Juice. Because of you.”
“What if I don’t want to do that? What if I want to go home, live my life, and become a gardener?”
Marie stood up. “It’s getting late. I’ll let you get some rest and we can talk some more tomorrow.”
“Bring Sid with you.”
“I’ll see if our schedules match. He’s a pretty busy guy.”
After Marie left, Juice tried the door and wasn’t surprised to find it locked. She glanced at the viewer and saw a guard standing in the hallway. Any thought that this was a misunderstanding evaporated. She was a prisoner.
She struggled to contain the resentment welling up inside her. She was being detained because of her skills and education. That alone was outrageous. The offense was compounded in her eyes because she’d just finished risking her life for those who were now her captors.
A jumble of emotions swirled inside her. But it wasn’t this injustice that dominated her thoughts. The center of her storm was her grief over Criss and his inexplicable demise. She heard about the freighter’s failure to capture the transport. She knew Criss could have ensured a successful retrieval. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t understand why he would choose to plunge to his death.
He’d said it would be safer for the team if he was gone. “You couldn’t be more wrong,” she said to the air, reflecting on her current circumstances. She ached for the chance to talk with him about it. Sid had seemed to understand his motives. She hoped to see him soon so he could provide insights that would give her some closure.
Since she was a prisoner, she knew her captors were studying her every move. She had learned from Criss that even ordinary citizens could be monitored through the assortment of technology integrated into their daily lives.
She stood in the center of the apartment and surveyed the walls, floor, and ceiling, repeating the process from different vantage points. If I could just locate their surveillance devices, perhaps I can use the technology to relay a message to Sid and Cheryl, she thought. She was resolute in her belief that her teammates didn’t know she was being held prisoner. And once they knew of her predicament, she was certain they would come to her rescue.
Her systematic search wasn’t encouraging. The kitchen held a simple food and beverage service unit. She saw an exercise treadmill in an alcove. There were recessed lights overhead and a voice thermostat to adjust the heating and cooling. The suite offered the essentials and nothing more. Ultimately, though, it didn’t matter. Without tools, her ability to exploit what she found was nonexistent.
Her exploration ended in the bedroom. The entire suite was so bare she couldn’t tell what time it was. And being underground, there was no window to glance through. She didn’t need a clock to accept that she was exhausted. It had been far too long since she’d last slept. Activating a small entertainment panel to see what they permitted as allowable distractions, she grew frustrated at the lack of selection and chose some music to fill the quiet.
She wandered into the bathroom and started her evening ablutions. She was about to wash her face when the music was replaced by a static hiss. A sense of hopeless despair descended over her. The harsh conditions were being amplified by the denial of music. This was nothing short of psychological torture.
But as the hissing continued, she turned and looked at the entertainment panel. The sound was familiar. And then she smiled. The moment the smile became a grin, the hissing stopped and the music returned. She recognized that hiss—it was the complex signal Criss made that first time in the lab. She didn’t need an audio analyzer to know he was calling to her. He was still alive, and he knew where she was.
She bent over and washed her face. She didn’t want her captors to see her glee. And she wanted to hide her tears of joy.
Chapter 39
Cheryl closed the gate behind her and slowed as she approached her home. Sid sat on her front stoop. She hadn’t heard from him since their return, and while it had been only a couple of days, she was preparing herself emotionally for a future where he would again let the embers of their relationship die.
“Hey,” she said, stopping in front of him. She looked at him expectantly. He had come to see her; she would let him speak.
He watched her approach, and when she stopped, he looked down and studied the area around his feet. He found a pebble, picked it up, examined it briefly, and tossed it into the bushes, then looked back at her.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. You know. About us.”
She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. “What about us?”
He searched for another stone. “I miss you.”
“Why?”
“I like being with you,” he said to his feet.
“Why?”
He looked up at her, clearly uncomfortable. Sid, the man who could face certain death with aplomb, was at a complete loss in this situation.
“Come inside.” She rested a hand on his shoulder as she climbed the steps past him. “Let’s not do this on the porch.”
He trailed her through the foyer and into her living area. She carried an envelope, which she set it on a table as she walked by. It slipped to the floor, and Sid picked it up and held it out for her.
She moved as if to accept his offering. But rather than take the envelope, she grabbed the wrist of his outstretched hand. Her movement was swift. Her action practiced. She placed her fingers flat against his wrist, her thumb arching over and pressing into the back of his hand. The grip gave her remarkable leverage. She used the advantage to swing his hand up and over in front of his face. For a brief moment, it looked like he was waving good-bye.
* * *
Sid recognized her move as a basic aikido single-hand grab. It was one taught in beginners’ classes because it was easy to execute. Its elementary nature, however, didn’t detract from its effectiveness in controlling an opponent.
He saw her start the move and chose not to avoid it. As she completed the grip, he chose not to break it. He let her execute the move and chose not to counter. Instead, he did what every victim in a beginner’s class does when their partner experiments with the powerful technique: he fell to his knees, and as she swung his arm up behind him, he leaned forward in a vain attempt to reduce the pressure on his shoulder.
On his knees, looking down at her feet, he heard her whisper from above, “Why do you want to be with me?”
“We’re good together.”
“No, Sid. Explain it to me. Make it simple and clear. Say it.”
Just yesterday, his news feed had offered a puff-piece article entitled “What Every Woman Wants To Hear.” He had skimmed the first paragraph before moving on. Now, he couldn’t believe his luck. Fate was looking out for him.
Bent over and looking at her feet, he followed the advice of the author. “I love…your shoes.”
* * *
“Ahem.”
Cheryl lifted her head at the sound and saw a man she didn’t recognize standing near the foyer. She was so startled by the intrusion that she barely noticed as Sid rotated out of her grip and stood to face the intruder.
“Cheryl, do you know this guy?” He moved away from her and toward the stranger.
The man lifted his arms away from his body. His hands were open and his palms faced forward. “No worries,” said the man. “It’s me.”
Cheryl heard the sound
directly through her auditory nerve. She recognized the voice. Sid stopped his advance.
“Criss!” said Cheryl. “I’m…confused.” She studied the image and marveled at his realistic appearance. She couldn’t detect anything about him that hinted at a simulation.
The man who was Criss disappeared from the foyer and reappeared sitting in a chair in her living area. “Oh heck,” he said. He blinked back to his original spot and this time walked to the chair. “Please bear with me. I realize now that I can make image projection seem even more lifelike by constraining my movements to natural actions.” He sat down again in the same spot and smiled. “I’ve also decided to normalize my behavior by using contractions in my speech.”
Cheryl detected a hint of pride in his voice. “Now I’m really confused.”
“It’s great to see you,” said Sid. “But it’s only been three days. I was expecting somewhere between two and four weeks.”
Criss got right to the point. “Juice needs our help.” He briefed them on her situation, his earnest facial expression underscoring his concern.
Sid was furious at this betrayal by his own people. He paced as he considered what he’d heard. “I’ll get her out. Rescue is my specialty.”
“I can get her out, too,” said Criss. “I’ve kept maintenance staff working on priority repairs all around her. That’s what they think they’re doing, anyway. Mostly, though, they’ve been installing mechanisms and devices I can override to gain control. I’m now able to lock or unlock any door. I control surveillance and can take over communications in the complex when I choose. She could stroll out of there today and remain in a bubble of protection until she reaches the surface.”
“That works,” said Sid. “I can take it from there.”
Criss’s image shook its head.
Cheryl understood. “If you break her out, she becomes a fugitive. Then she’s on the run, and her life won’t be any better than it is now.” She looked at Criss as she thought it through. “We need to get her officially released.”
Criss nodded. “I would suggest we get her released with a formal apology.”
“Any ideas?”
“Cheryl, we start by having you call your father. You must convince him to go visit Juice at once and personally set her free. He’d asked that she be protected. That was a reasonable request. I don’t believe he intended that she be held prisoner. Juice will be somewhat mollified if the chair of the Senate Defense Committee shows up and apologizes.”
He looked at Sid. “To put on a proper show, the secretary of defense should be by the senator’s side. The senator and secretary have talked about Juice a number of times over the past few days. They both agree she’s important to the future of the Union. My sense is that he’ll invest the time if he believes that’s what it takes to make her productive.” He didn’t mention whether the secretary knew about her being held prisoner. Sid didn’t ask.
Criss sat quietly for a few moments and then continued. “This is a wonderful opportunity. The senator and secretary are both anxious for Juice to provide technology leadership. It’s clear that, at best, she’ll only cooperate if it’s on her terms. They’re looking for a path forward and will listen if you present a reasoned plan.”
“So what’s the pitch?”
“You three are my leadership team, and I’ve been brainstorming ways that you can physically get together without drawing attention or suspicion. My idea is that you two volunteer to work with Juice to make her productive. You also offer to provide her the security protection the Union desires for her.
“This gets the Union what it desperately wants, and we get a government-sanctioned directive for the leadership team to consult on a regular basis. There’ll be no need to manufacture reasons or to sneak around anytime you three decide to meet.”
Cheryl looked at Sid. “That last part is a bonus,” she said. “But we need to help Juice either way.”
Sid and Cheryl each placed their call, finding both the secretary and senator busy with other appointments. They left messages and prepared for the nerve-racking wait for return calls.
Cheryl used the time to explore why Criss believed it was necessary to play a charade over his death. “We had the story of your demise well established during debrief. Why the extra drama? And why direct it at us?”
“There’s a segment of the population who believes in conspiracies. For any topic of intrigue, the number of believers will grow or shrink based on the credibility of the evidence. You three returned to Earth empty-handed. That’s been well documented by independent sources. You believed I was gone, so your official interviews and conversations with friends didn’t require that you lie or mislead. Because of my charade, you didn’t do or say anything that would feed a conspiracy.”
Cheryl did a poor job of hiding her frustration. “But since I thought you were dead, my motivation to continue the fiction was lost. This could’ve just as easily backfired.”
“Did you reveal my existence or change your story?”
“No.”
“I’m pleased it worked out well.” Cheryl frowned and Criss continued. “While my charade has worked to minimize the number of people who believe I exist, there remain some who do. Eventually, they’ll come looking for me.”
“Are you secure?” asked Sid. “Where are you physically located?”
“If you order me to tell you, I must do so.” He rubbed the arms of the chair. It was a convincing display of someone struggling with unease and indecision. “While we work to get Juice’s situation resolved, the fewer specifics you know, the easier it’ll be to make the resolution evolve in a natural fashion.”
Sid accepted this and didn’t press it. “What would you like to see as an outcome?”
“There is an R&D facility located just north of the city. It was used by government contractors for space-systems development. The equipment and infrastructure are ideal for what Juice will want.”
“Is it available for her to move in?” asked Sid.
“The company has just received a huge contract that requires them to move their entire operation south. So yes, the owner of the facility is looking for a new tenant.”
“Any chance you had something to do with this large contract?”
Criss smiled and then disappeared.
Chapter 40
Juice was sitting in an overstuffed chair when the pair arrived. They entered her apartment unannounced, frightening her to the point where she dropped her reader. She lifted her knees under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling herself into a small, tight ball. She looked at them with a mix of fear and anger.
“Hello, Dr. Tallette. I’m Tim Deveraux, secretary of defense. This is Senator Matt Wallace, chair of the Senate Defense Committee.”
Juice recognized them both from that first contact on the Kardish cargo transport. “I know who you are.” Looking at Wallace, she said, “You’re Cheryl’s dad. Does she know I’m being held prisoner?”
“Actually, Dr. Tallette, she called me this morning and told me. I can assure you that this was a rogue operation. Neither Secretary Deveraux nor I knew anything about it. As soon as we learned of your plight, we came here personally to apologize, make sure you hadn’t been mistreated, and deliver your immediate release.”
“Am I free to go?” The hope in her voice was unmistakable.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Wallace. “We have a car waiting for you outside. It’ll take you wherever you wish.”
Juice hesitated while she considered whether to rant about her unconscionable treatment. She’d spent long hours thinking about what she would say if given the opportunity. Now that the moment was here, her practical side won out. She stood up and made for the door, editing her speech down to one word.
“Good-bye.” She delivered it in a frosty tone.
“Dr. Tallette,” said Deveraux as she passed. “We owe you this. I hope you still want it.” He held out his offering.
She eyed the object in his hand
with suspicion. It looked like a small wallet. She snatched it from him without slowing and continued into the hallway.
When Juice emerged into the sunlight, she shielded her eyes from the bright glare of day. She saw Sid and Cheryl waiting for her. She ran to them and they hugged. Sid and Cheryl explained that they had come as soon as they had learned of her fate. Juice, euphoric from her release, related how lonely and scary the whole episode had been for her.
Cheryl put her lips against Juice’s ear, so close it looked like a kiss, and whispered, “Criss will be talking to you soon. The Union is watching. Listen to him, but don’t speak.”
The secretary and senator emerged from the building behind Juice. They kept their distance and watched. Cheryl mouthed a thank you to her father, then the three turned their backs on the politicians and walked across the plaza.
Sid and Cheryl were on either side of Juice. They both had an arm around her waist and were hugging her so hard they practically lifted her off the ground as they made for the luxury vehicle provided by the Union. She climbed into the car and peeked out at her teammates.
“Thank you both. I’ll call soon.”
She turned forward and, as the door latched, said “home” to the console. The car accelerated. The luxury of the plush interior was in stark contrast to her previous surroundings. She took in a deep breath and exhaled hard, seeking to expel the nightmare from her body.
“Hi, Juice,” she heard in her ear. “Please don’t speak. We’ll have plenty of time to chat later.” Juice looked out the window and watched the scenery fly by.
“What do you have in your hand?” Criss asked her.
As if seeing it for the first time, Juice considered the simple, brown wallet she’d taken from the secretary. She turned it in her hand and looked at it from all angles, then unfastened a tab, opened it, and gasped. Inside was a silver star. It looked much like a badge a sheriff might wear, except it was in no way cheap or tacky. In fact, she thought it was beautiful.
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