Death in Time

by Robyn Nyx

  She wished her brain was able to make a video of what her eyes were seeing, what her body was feeling, so she could revisit it anytime she wanted. She didn’t want the memory of it to ever fade. This whole experience was something that someone from her time should never be a part of, and she felt privileged that Donovan had chosen her. Her thoughts traversed to the path she’d taken, and how the slightest change or different decision could easily have meant she didn’t end up here. There was a certain ring of destiny about it that seemed paradoxical to the fact that Pulsus was all about changing destinies.

  Brooke began to feel the pressure Donovan had warned her about. She realized she had no concept of time, how long she’d already been traveling, or how long there was until she reached the end point. She fought to quell the surge of panic that threaten to flood her body with adrenaline, not least because it was pointless. There was no turning back; the flight response was redundant. Relax. She struggled against the surrounding air density to close her eyes and calm her mind. I chose this. She wouldn’t be much of a recruit if she failed the first real test. And she really didn’t want to disappoint Donovan. Who knew what risk she was taking bringing her into their special operation? She ignored the question that had concerned her since Donovan had offered the choice—why didn’t she want Makenzie to know until the last possible minute? Makenzie didn’t seem fazed by the apparent subterfuge and was obviously used to a military “need to know” basis.

  Brooke managed to reopen her eyes. Muniz was no longer visible, but she could make out a circular exit identical to the one in the Dunes. She would’ve grinned if it weren’t for the fact that her facial muscles were no match for the air pressure. This is it. She tried to take a deep breath, but managed only short sharp intakes that made her feel like she was atop Mount Denali. Again, she fought her body’s desire to panic and focused on her imminent arrival.

  The sudden change in air pressure was like being pulled out of a latex rubber body bag. And as Donovan had predicted, the result of the force on her stomach caused her to expel the pizza she’d enjoyed a few hours earlier. She opened her eyes and was mortified to find the young man in front of her covered in chunks of soggy bread and masticated pepperoni. His bucket was bouncing away from him and his expression was a few levels beyond surprised. Brooke reached for the small towel that draped from the top pocket of his once pristine lab coat. She turned it over to the side not covered with her bile and wiped her mouth.

  “I am really sorry about that.” She dabbed at his chest with the towel before deciding it was a lost cause and that he’d be better off simply dumping it. He was also yet to speak, and it was getting weird. A strong hand clapped her on the back.

  “Welcome to your new home.”

  She was relieved to hear Donovan’s voice, but when she turned to respond, she found Donovan’s focus was on the tunnel. Was she worried Delaney hadn’t managed to hold on because of her injury? She registered the two men standing beside Donovan, in an official looking almost-uniform of beige khakis and matching shirts. One of them held something that looked like restraints.

  “You don’t need those.” Donovan took them from him and placed them on a nearby table just as Delaney emerged. She stumbled slightly, presumably from a mixture of the pressure change and the fact that her chest wound was bleeding profusely and the previously white bandage was now scarlet red. Brooke was jostled out of the way by a sudden influx of more lab-coated individuals rushing to support a stumbling Delaney. They and the two uniforms awkwardly carried her away.

  A striking older woman grabbed Donovan by her upper arm. The family resemblance was clear, but after a quick hug, Elena didn’t look happy to see her daughter. “So you went ahead and did it anyway?”

  Donovan ran her hand through her hair before offering an open palm as an apparent apology. “Yes.”

  Brooke wasn’t sure what Elena’s problem was, but she had to suppress a snicker at the look of child-like contrition on Donovan’s face. Muniz was with a tall, skinny, studious-looking woman of a similar age. They were in animated conversation and seemingly oblivious to whatever it was riling Elena.

  “Time has been kind to you, my friend,” Muniz said, holding the hands of the skinny woman Brooke assumed was Jenkin.

  “When you’ve stopped reminiscing, perhaps you could weigh in on this,” Elena said as she motioned toward Brooke.

  Oh crap. I’m the problem. Brooke took a step back toward the tunnel only to see it had disappeared.

  “Elena!” Muniz drew her into a hug before she could stop him.

  Brooke could see Elena relax and reciprocate Muniz’s show of affection, before she disengaged and alternated her stern expression equally between Donovan and Jenkin.

  Jenkin moved toward Brooke and hung her arm over her shoulder as if she were an old friend. “This young woman is the only reason you and I were able to go about our past as we damn well pleased. Without her sacrifice, Delaney and Simson would be running this show.” Jenkin dropped her arm.

  Landry nodded and stood on the other side of Brooke. “What she said.”

  “I’m not supposed to be here?” It would have been comical if Brooke weren’t the cause of Elena’s apparent stress.

  “How astute. No. An operative called Simson, someone about twice your size, should be standing where you are.” Elena put her hands on her hips and tilted her head as an invitation to respond.

  “Simson’s dead, Mom.”

  “And you thought what? Why waste a perfectly good time thread when you can bring home a stray instead?” Elena swatted the air in Brooke’s direction.

  “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been referred to as a dog before.” Brooke could see where Donovan got her fire from.

  Elena shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was rude.” Her expression softened slightly. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “Can we discuss this in the briefing room?” Donovan was already moving and pulling Brooke with her.

  Brooke glanced back at the poor guy still standing there covered in her puke. She cocked her head and offered what she hoped was an apologetic look. He didn’t respond, but then who’d give a cheery wave to someone who’d just covered them in half-digested pizza?

  She followed Donovan up the galvanized steel staircase and tried to take as much of the environment in as possible. She counted maybe thirty people at various stations on the floor and on the mezzanine level they were headed toward. It made the sci-fi movies she’d seen of space stations look positively archaic and pedestrian. Despite the showdown at the time tunnel, no one had stopped doing whatever it was they were doing to stare at them. The two floors were packed with machines and computers. Between the time tunnel entrance and the huge bank of people sitting behind computers, was a wall of computer screens—without the screens. Images, numbers, and text hung in midair with no discernible glass or crystal display. She tripped, thinking there was another step when she’d actually gotten to the top of the stairway and Donovan stopped her from falling flat on her face. When she was upright, Brooke saw Makenzie on the mezzanine level. She was smiling widely, and Brooke cursed her clumsiness. She was relieved Makenzie didn’t look annoyed though, despite it looking like Donovan hadn’t followed any specifically issued orders about bringing Brooke back.

  Donovan snapped her fingers in front of Brooke’s face to get her attention. “Earth calling horny toad.”

  Brooke thought about pushing Donovan’s hand away but decided against it. She didn’t want to look disrespectful, either to her or anyone else that might be looking. Best to learn how everything works first. “Sorry.” She shrugged, and from the responding expression Donovan gave her, she understood her distraction perfectly. Brooke had no plans to do anything about it for a good while yet.

  Donovan motioned toward a steel door with a nod. “After you.”

  Brooke steadied herself and walked as confidently as her shaky legs would allow. After the initial wave of nausea had passed, her whole body had begun to feel a lit
tle unstable. She opened the door, entered, and sank gratefully into an upholstered chair that felt like a warm hug.

  “Are you okay?” Donovan put her hand on Brooke’s shoulder.

  Brooke looked up and smiled. She liked Donovan being concerned for her health. It made her feel safe, like a superhero was looking out for her. “I’m…” A black-and-gray checkered blanket swathed her vision so she closed her eyes for a moment to refocus. “It’s okay. I’m—”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Delaney woke naked and refreshed. The warmth of the healing pod felt like a coddling blanket. She rolled her neck and stretched out her arms. It’s good to be… The thought remained unfinished. Yes, she was back, but in the haze of the regen pod, she’d temporarily forgotten what was happening, and why she was back. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Ilsa; soft, loving Ilsa. Her gentle voice teased Delaney’s memories, ones she was soon to part with. Delaney pictured them lying together, Ilsa’s head resting on her chest as Delaney stroked her hair and whispered sweet words of the life they’d get to live together.

  She became conscious of her clenched fists and opened her hands slowly and deliberately, visualizing the uncurling of each sinew to calm herself. She wondered if any of this could have played out differently. She imagined a scenario where Landry reprogrammed the PRU and engineered a fifth string for Ilsa to come back with them, just as she had for Jackson. Or perhaps an exchange where Griffin chose to stay in New York and live out his life there rather than simply disintegrate into stardust in the time tunnel. Ilsa would simply have taken his place.

  Delaney wondered how much longer she’d have these thoughts. They were partly a plague, but what would she be without them? Without regret? Wasn’t life about learning from mistakes, rather than removing the evidence so that they were in danger of being repeated? Her eyes sprang open when the only way of resolving this to her satisfaction jumped into her head. Escape.

  She sat up in the pod and saw her regular clothes folded in a neat pile on the table beside her, along with a bottle of water in an individual chilling unit. She pulled on her underwear and racer back bra before popping the lid and downing the cool liquid. It soothed the dryness in her throat from the regen process but did nothing to dampen the burgeoning plot to get off the island with her memories intact.

  Landry said she had a plan, too. Was it possible she had the same idea? One thing was certain, Delaney wasn’t making the same mistake as she had before. She’d talk to Landry, find out what she had in mind, and compare notes. She had to hope that they’d allow her a “last request” just as the executioners offered to the condemned woman. She’d beg if she had to.

  She dressed in her jeans and pulled her shirt over her head. She paused before smoothing it down to check the wound on her chest. It was gone, of course, but that area of her body was warmer than the rest of her and felt slightly alien. It was something she’d gotten used to. The rebuilt parts were smooth, like a baby’s skin, speed grown from her own DNA but fresh to the world and unweathered. She finished getting dressed. No sooner was she dressed than the door opened and Dr. Castillo entered. It was a good sign. Delaney could waste hours with the shrink to delay the mind wipe while Landry was being debriefed and most likely hauled over hot coals for allowing Jackson to hitchhike her way into the future.

  “Hey, Doc. Long time, no see.”

  Castillo smiled and Delaney was glad to see it was genuine. The good thing about most shrinks was they didn’t disguise their own feelings. “Long time, never seen, Delaney.”

  Delaney shrugged. “I thought I was doing okay, and when I realized I wasn’t, I was kind of too far gone for a house call.”

  Castillo’s smile showed the slightly wonky teeth Delaney always wondered why she hadn’t had fixed. “It’s never too late, Delaney. Would you be kind enough to walk with me?”

  Delaney stood and was pleased to see Castillo didn’t react by jumping back. Having people in fear of her wouldn’t serve her well anymore. She followed her out of the pod and closed the door behind her. Two low-level operatives nodded at Delaney and she returned their greeting.

  “We don’t need these two guys, do we?”

  Delaney shook her head. “I’ll go wherever you need me to.” As long as it isn’t for the mind wipe. They walked together along the corridor and furtive glances were thrown her way by the few people they passed. Delaney smiled at all of them. “Are we walking to your office, Doc?”

  “We are. Still happy to accompany me?”

  Delaney appreciated the soft, gentle tone of Castillo’s voice. It was deliberately non-threatening, despite the ominous nature of what the doctor must know Delaney was facing.

  “Sure.”

  Castillo opened her office door with a wave of her hand and indicated for Delaney to enter first. “Take a seat.”

  Delaney looked around and was impressed. There were a range of seating options from an oversized armchair and a velvet wingback to an office chair and a wooden bench. “No chaise longue? I thought every shrink had one of those.” She chose the armchair and nestled into its comforting hold.

  Castillo offered Delaney a bottle of water before she sat opposite in the wingback and kept her body open and neutral. “You know, Delaney, I’m not your enemy, and I have no intention of shrinking your head.”

  Delaney grinned. “Some antipsychotic meds do shrink the brain though.”

  Castillo returned her easy smile. “That would be the medication, then, not me.”

  Delaney rested her hands on the arms of the chair. “Okay. What are we doing here, Doc?” And how can we make it last longer?

  “We need to understand what pushed you beyond your limits.” She leaned forward and steepled her hands beneath her chin. “We have to establish the root causes of your behavior to ensure we don’t let it happen again.”

  This is unexpected. “Are you admitting some neglect on your part—Pulsus, I mean, not you personally?”

  “Yes. Yes, we are. We believe we failed you, Delaney. And I take responsibility for that. It’s my team that assesses every extractor and operative before and after each mission. I train them to spot the signs of serious mental fatigue.” She brushed away the errant strand of hair that had fallen across her eye. “We ran our tests, we listened, but it’s very clear that we didn’t hear you.”

  Delaney began to feel slightly vindicated for her actions. If only the board had listened to her when she went before them. It could have all turned out so differently. “What makes you think you’ll hear me now?”

  Castillo nodded her head slowly and pursed her lips together. “You’re absolutely right to doubt my ability, Delaney—”

  “Could we start by you dropping the use of my name at almost every sentence? You have my attention, and I’m happy to cooperate.” Delaney was sure Castillo wasn’t using her name as a power move. If she was, Delaney would have been tempted to shut the conversation down before it had begun.

  “I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit, because most of the time, you guys don’t want to be in that chair or even this room with me. I’ll make a conscious effort to stop.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Delaney sympathized because Castillo was absolutely right. Soldiers didn’t like admitting their emotions to themselves, let alone sharing them with a psychiatrist who could read all sorts of obscure things into them. But this was different. She had nothing to gain and everything to lose if she wasn’t truthful. Opening up here might help Landry’s plan, whatever that was. And keeping the doctor talking delayed their plans for her mind wipe and gave her more time to figure out an escape. “You were saying?”

  “I’d expect you to doubt my abilities to really hear what you have to say. I can only assure you that I’m going to try my absolute best. Are you able to accept that and be willing to try with me?”

  Delaney bit her lip and tried to look as if she were actually contemplating Castillo’s words, though she’d already made the decision to be honest with her. Beyond her own designs
on escape, she never wanted another operative to feel the way she had, fractured and confused. “Sure. Let’s give it a go.”

  “Do you mind if we video our conversation?”

  “Who’s going to be allowed to see it?” She looked down at her hands gripping the chair arms, and her knuckles were white. She glanced up to see that’s where the doctor’s focus was, too.

  “Just the senior members of my team. Not even the board, if you expressly don’t want that.”

  Delaney released the chair and wiggled her fingers. “I’m not worried about the board. I just don’t want it playing to all the other operatives and the extractors, you know. I’m prepared to open up but not to that wide an audience.”

  “I understand.” She reached for a small remote on her desk and activated the vox system that was wired into almost every room in the building. “You’re agreeing to this meeting being recorded under the terms that only senior members of my team and the board of Pulsus, if necessary, are the designated audience. It is not to be viewed by anyone else.”

  “Thank you.” She was grateful for that. In truth, Delaney suspected she’d signed away practically all of her human rights when she put her fingerprint to her contract with Pulsus. They really could deny her any of these niceties, but their admission of some culpability for the course Delaney took was obviously genuine and was fueling her current treatment. “Where would you like to begin? And please don’t say the beginning.”

  Castillo laughed quietly. “Okay, I won’t. How about you tell me what made you realize the missions were adversely affecting your mental health?”

  “That’s a nice one to ease me into it.” This is everything I’ve been trying to forget. “Nightmares. Vivid and intense nightmares. I’d wake up soaked in sweat, reliving the vicious things I’d had to do on a mission.”

  “And how did you cope with those things?”

  “The nightmares or the actions I’d taken on the missions?”