by Scott Rhine
“Her robe.”
“And?”
“Just her bikini,” he whispered, visualizing the clothing in question—and what it had failed to cover.
“That narrows it down,” the officer said, tapping a pencil on his report. “Why didn’t she go to the clinic?”
The man being questioned fish-mouthed for a time, deciding on, “She doesn’t like doctors. They have too many rules and tests.”
“Convenient. We can’t seem to find any trace of her.”
“It’s gentleman’s duty to protect—”
“Yes, I know. You sent her out your roof escape hatch into the agro pod next door. No one saw a thing.”
Zeiss smiled at this acknowledgement.
The commander raised his voice in irritation. “When you heard my men pounding on your door, you put your sheets and shirt in your burn safe and hit the ignite button. The device is ruined, but so is the evidence. Why?”
“It’s my property. I can do with it what I wish,” Zeiss insisted. “You should be arresting the students who bugged my office and posted that private conversation.”
“Kid, if that’s what you call a conversation, women are going to be lining up to chat with you.” Taggart played a segment of moans while Zeiss shifted uncomfortably. The pitch went up noticeably as the girl expressed ecstasy. There were garbled pleas for him to continue. “My God, what were you doing to that girl? The boys will give you four-star treatment here in the brig if you just share your technique.”
“Blowing on the aloe gel. It made her shiver. I wanted her to feel better.”
“Right.”
Next, Zeiss’s voice came over the play-back speaker. “You’ll like this. Just to prove I’m a full-service masseur.”
The girl wailed and then chanted, “Thank you,” as she cried.
Taggart raised an eyebrow. Zeiss was trying to hide an erection. “I think that was when I did the tops of her feet. You pretend the toes are little champagne corks.”
The commander slammed his hand down on the stop button. “Thirty minutes of this garbage, and then she says ‘Turn me over and do my front?’ You honesty expect me to believe this was innocent?”
“Tha . . . that’s when I gave her the bottle and opened my hatch and stepped out for some cool air. Then I heard her over the PA and told her to get out. I had no idea security was on the way.”
“Why leave at that moment?”
Zeiss writhed in the chair. They kept battering him with the same questions in different variations. This time, his answer changed. “Because I have feelings for her.”
The commander nodded. “Did you give her grades for sex?”
“No!”
“Then give us a name.”
“I should be punished. She’s an innocent in this.”
“I don’t think so. Nobody other than a spy would have this high-grade of media distorter. Your voice comes through fine; only hers is unrecognizable. She’s been playing you,” Taggart insisted.
“No. If her name gets associated with this, her cover . . . name is ruined.”
“More truth slips out the more tired you get. Information has been leaking out of this academy for years. Sex is involved. Your investigation pointed to as much. This infiltrating vixen got to you. You’re in major trouble.”
“I resigned before the incident. The school has no recourse.”
“Forget the school. After that video hit YouTube, Oxford has dropped you as well.”
Zeiss lowered his face into his hands.
The commander pressed. “That underwear model made it go viral when she posted, ‘You animal, this reminds me of when you swallowed my belly button ring.’”
“I thought it was an earring,” he corrected.
“Irrelevant! Everyone in the school—Hell, everyone in the UN—knows why you took that sweet young thing into your room. Do you deny it?”
“No.”
“Finally, some honesty. If we hadn’t arrived to surprise you?”
“I would have done anything she wanted, but she never asked for classified information.”
Taggart fast-forwarded to Zeiss offering, “Maybe it would be cooler for you to sleep in the sublevel.”
The commander dropped his final card on the table. “After you gave her your badge, someone erased days of security footage.”
“That was me,” Zeiss insisted.
“Including course notes?”
“What?”
“Images from the first week of Intro to Alien Technology class. Come on. Just give us a name and you can go back to your old life.”
Zeiss went through the slides used on the first week, a day at a time. “The Time magazine cover?”
“A foreign worm removed it. We don’t know why. I like you, we all do. We can still keep you out of prison if you give me her name.”
The former TA trembled as he put the pieces together. It all made sense in hindsight—Miracle Redemption Hollis, hidden from cameras since birth. She’d been raised by Jezebel’s assistant. “Trina.”
“What?” asked the commander, hoping for a breakthrough.
“Erase every record of this interrogation, clear the observation room, and call Professor Horvath immediately.” The former assistant began reciting board-level override codes.
“You can’t just—”
Zeiss bellowed, interrupting, “I’m a traitor. By the end of the day, I’m probably going to be shot and dropped off the stern into the ocean. Unless you want to join me, do it now!”
An hour later, Trina strode into the room and sat on the table in her martial-arts uniform. “Your note to me in the envelope sounded rather . . . suicidal. Would you care to explain that?”
He ignored her question and whispered, “If you can’t kill me yourself, give me an empty gun and let me run up on deck. The others will.”
Coolly, Trina asked, “Why do you think we should shoot you, Conrad?”
He looked at the mirror. “I can’t say here. Outside the Academy, I’d be questioned and broken. I know that now. The information I carry must be protected at all costs.”
Softy, she said, “We’re alone now. You can tell me. Who was the student?”
“The most important person in the world,” he replied. They locked eyes and she knew exactly who he was referring to—Mira.
“Did you do something to her?”
“Never. Listen to the tape and talk to her. The whole sunburn incident is a big misunderstanding.”
“Ach. I know she’s burned; the girl came into my room this morning begging me to slather her with this huge bottle of aloe and blow on it.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling them and they won’t believe me!”
She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip until the urge to smile or laugh subsided. “Audio: off. I wouldn’t have believed you myself if it hadn’t happened to me. I kept worrying that someone was going to turn me in to the dean, and I raised her.”
Trina put her arm around the distraught young man as she asked, “If this is a simple misunderstanding, then what did you do that’s so horrible?”
“I accidentally found out who she was, who her mother was. She won’t be safe until you kill me.”
“Shh. We’re not going to let that happen, Conrad. We’ll find a way. You’re family.” He collapsed, sobbing, into her chest. She stroked his hair and whispered nothings until his breathing stabilized.
“Those photos were very nice,” she said. “They captured Mira’s nature perfectly.”
He nodded. “I want . . . wanted them for myself but didn’t dare keep them.”
“Because people would see that you love her,” she stated softly.
“How could I not?”
Trina smiled and kissed him on the forehead. “Does she know?”
Zeiss shook his head.
“We’ll figure that out, too. She’s a little slow with social things. Be patient; she’s worth the wait.”
Chapter 30 – Rally
Red
sat in Daniel’s living room, head bowed. Using his sternest voice, the billionaire asked, “Do you know why you’re here?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” she evaded.
“How they train female astronauts, the new web sensation.”
“He told?”
“No. You just confessed,” her uncle pointed out. “How many people have heavy media scramblers from our company—on this island?”
“Just the family,” she admitted.
“My irreplaceable assistant quit the Academy rather than turn you in. He burned your DNA and scrubbed every picture that’s ever been taken of you on this island to make sure your getaway was complete.”
“So he’s going to his dream job in Oxford? That’s not fair. My team needs him.”
“I, me, my: that’s all I hear from you! He spent weeks getting that birthday party ready for you, and this is the thanks he gets.”
“Birthday?”
“Yes. We have cake for 300 that we never used sitting in François’ freezer because of your behavior. That girl had to have plastic surgery so she could model again. Llewellyn flew her to a specialist.”
“That wasn’t—”
“I was there, Mira, cleaning up the mess while you were making another one. Tell me what happened.”
She recounted events similar to the TA’s but neglected a few elements of cause and effect. “I’ve heard that tape,” Daniel said, and she blushed. He didn’t mention that he laughed till he cried the first two times. “Because of his cover-up, they thought he was a spy; I listened to eight hours of interrogation.” That got her attention. “He didn’t point fingers, but in my opinion, Z didn’t do anything that you didn’t demand over his objections.”
“But I needed—”
“Forget about what you want. You owe that man your career and probably your life.”
“Life?”
“He knows who you are, Miracle.” For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “He was willing to take a bullet rather than say a word against you.”
“I understand.”
“Not by a long shot, girl. Because of this incident, he lost Oxford or any other academic post forever. He can never teach again.”
Her stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry.”
“When they finally let me visit him, that boy cried in front of me because he didn’t want me to be ashamed of him. He knows he won’t last a month if he leaves this island; he’ll be tortured because he was mine. He’d kill himself before he’d betray us.”
Tears poured down her face now. “How can I help?”
“That is what I was waiting for. You could’ve come to us last night. You should have offered to help him as soon as you heard. As it is, the pilots and mils have rallied to rescue him. They signed a waiver on his extra quarter-inch of height. It was unanimous. Your supper club should’ve thought of that!”
“What?”
“Llewellyn spearheaded an effort to make Z an astronaut student. The mils all signed the petition.”
“That’s brilliant. I thought they hated him.”
“Herk’s been lobbying on his behalf for a long time, but Professor Rogers tipped the scale. He told them that Z’s conscientious-objector status was so he could work in the hospital his mom was spending so much time in. He explained Zeiss was working as a civilian cryptanalyst, but couldn’t defend himself to students without violating security. Getting credit for taking out a Rex mid-rape helped his reputation, too.”
“But he is a pacifist.”
“Rogers respects him enough not to mention that. Helping out every time your class did something dangerous went a long way in the professor’s book. Our boy isn’t afraid of hard work.”
“If the mils signed for him, what’s his classification?”
“Scientist navigator trainee.”
“Didn’t Z teach that?” Red asked.
“Which means he has almost all the prerequisites, but he’s a little light on real-world experience. Mr. Rogers has volunteered to be his adviser and signed off on his survival training. Z only has the splash test left for intro. I signed off on all the alien stuff and Kendo. Data security and physics are no-brainers. Because he finished his dissertation, we can give him third-year status.”
“That’s fantastic. He can stay!”
“Until he gets his deep-theta training course, he can’t leave, not even to visit his family. This place will be his prison.”
“The king of the nats has to read Collective Unconscious? That’s going to be hard on him. What’s his talent going to be?”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “You have to ask? You’re the Index. You tell me.”
She blinked a few times. “He’s a deep quantum thinker. That’s dangerous and valuable.”
“Do you understand what Z gave up for you?”
“I’m beginning to. What can I do for him?”
“He’s weak in hand-to-hand. Trina is letting him take remedial classes like any other egghead. He doesn’t like guns, even for paintball. Officially, we want you to be his tutor.”
“Unofficially?”
“Keep him sane while he adjusts to his new life.”
“Yes, sir,” Red said bowing like she did to her martial-arts instructors. “How is he paying for this?”
“I gave him a scholarship.”
Meekly, she asked, “Could I fund that?”
“That would be appropriate.”
As she touched the door to leave, she asked, “His dissertation, can I read it?”
“When he lets you. Only about five minds on the planet can completely grok it, and only a few of those are in our coalition. He can’t talk about it to other physicists without going to jail. You really did a number on him, girl.”
“How do I earn his forgiveness?”
“Start by asking, no excuses,” Daniel said, biting his lip.
“What is it you’re not telling me?”
“Need to know, Mira, but I’ll give you a hint: look at the posts people left on the Academy site before we took it down. I emailed you a copy. Read between the lines.”
****
When Red got to the guest quarters near the landing pad, Sojiro was already there. Zeiss was dressed in grey mechanics’ overalls and his fedora, and they were chatting about the manga release. His huge, orange visitor’s badge stuck out from the band of the hat. When she stepped in the door, they both shut up. The former TA looked ill. “Snappy new fashion statement?” Red joked.
Sojiro stepped between them to protect the other man. “They sent all his clothes away for DNA testing, in case he missed some evidence.”
“Z, I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes got big and he almost told her the truth. Instead, Zeiss took the green stress-ball out of his right pocket and began working it. Sojiro hissed, “What more do want from this man? If they suspect you, it was all for nothing.”
“I came to offer my support and to check on one of my friends,” Red replied. “If you want, we can start your hand-to-hand lessons today.”
“I’m pretty tired,” Zeiss said, not selling the weak excuse the way he should have.
She glanced at the artist, wondering whether they wanted to be alone. “Tomorrow, then?”
Sojiro explained, “He has the splash-down test and heavy medical screening then.” He was obviously trying to keep her away.
“We have all week,” she offered, suspicious. “In the meantime, I’ll spring for a new wardrobe.”
“He likes to pick his own clothes,” Sojiro objected.
Red sat on the edge of the sofa, without asking for permission. “Don’t shut me out, please; we’re a team. I admit that I screwed up. I’ll do anything you want; just say you’ll forgive me.”
Zeiss covered his face. “I could’ve stopped at any time. I don’t blame you.”
She smiled and the room brightened. Somehow, that made it hurt worse for him. “Tell me about the dissertation!” she asked.
“It took me two years to prove what you tosse
d off in our first hour together.”
“You proved it? Congratulations. I didn’t think it was possible.”
She hugged him. He didn’t hug back.
“For a nat?” Zeiss asked.
“For anyone, you goof,” she said, slugging him in the shoulder.
“I just kept going. Boring persistence is what I do best. But one day, I’m going to prove you wrong, Red.”
“Can I read it?” she begged.
The thought of this made his heart rate spike. “No. Not yet.”
Sojiro mustered his courage. “I think you need to leave now.”
In the hall, she turned to the artist. “What did he tell you?”
“Nothing that happened, no names.”
“But you guessed.”
“He wouldn’t open his door after ten for anyone else.”
“You don’t have to worry,” Red whispered. “He wasn’t unfaithful to you.”
Sojiro pulled back. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not a couple?” Red asked, daring him to refute the evidence.
“In my dreams. Z may be a Vulcan most of the time, but he’s het as they get.”
“But the cooking, the neatness, the mommy picture, always polite . . .”
The artist raised an eyebrow. “He’s a gentleman who had to take care of his sick mother because no one else in his lazy, self-centered family would.”
She left as her world-view tipped on its side.
****
When Red got back to her room, she checked her email. She zeroed in on the copy of the website. There were hundreds of joking and supportive posts, including several phone numbers for Zeiss. Lou’s photo icon had effusive thanks beside it. But the first comment caught her eye. She stormed back to Zeiss’s apartment. Herk was now guarding the door.
“Let me in there!” she bellowed.
“Quiet, or I’ll call security,” Herk whispered calmly. “He needs his rest.”
“I need to talk to him about that tramp Vanessa!”
“Don’t call her a tramp. Neither Z nor Lou appreciates that talk.”
“I knew she screwed him!”
“It’s none of your business, but I happen to know otherwise.”
“She said—”
“And we believe what people on Facebook write about our friends?”
