by K. F. Breene
But those weren’t her only two choices. Thanks to Mr. Gunner, she had a third option. From the little information she could garner, which probably wasn’t totally reliable, it was risky—one in ten didn’t survive the voyage, and no one ever came back—but it was her only chance. She’d already created an alias, hacked through the ridiculous security that badly needed reworking, and booked herself and Marie for a trip on the dilapidated rocket shuttle. And if they had a problem taking her for some reason, she’d make them take Marie. As long as her daughter had a better life, that’s all that mattered.
“Deep in thought,” Mr. Gunner said. “Dare I offer a credit for your thoughts?”
“Stop staring at me. It’s annoying.”
“I do like when you’re feisty. Why take Clarity? I think you could have a riot without it.”
She rolled her eyes. “That is the only pill that prevents a dulled mind rather than enables it.”
“The sexual drive is natural, princess. You should express it.”
“And let me guess. You’d be happy to give me a tutorial if I did?”
“Precisely. I might teach you a thing or two.”
The craft bumped lightly as it docked. She stood when the doors opened. “How have you never gotten called in for sexual harassment?”
“It’s not harassment, it’s foreplay.”
“I hope you also think getting stabbed in the eye is foreplay.”
“Getting stabbed? No.” His overbearing touch found her arm again. “You trying to stab me? Yes. I like to be the one doing the stabbing. Or prodding, in any case.”
“Neanderthal.” The doors opened, the same as they had for the last year and a half. Nothing had changed down the halls. The same guard was on duty, a man one click below the Curve on average, lab born, but with a good work ethic. If the system went down, a man like him would get out his torch and have a look-see. She’d disable him easily.
“Right through here.” Mr. Gunner pushed her to the right, away from the normal path she took.
“Where are we going?” She glanced behind her at the usual route. There was no reason to think it had changed in any way, but she wanted to be sure. She wanted one last look.
“This is the farewell chamber.”
“There’s a farewell chamber?” she asked as they went down a hallway she’d never been in before.
“It’s almost nap time, so they’re about to head to bed for a bit. After you say good-bye, they’ll shuttle her off to bed with a sedative.”
Anger boiled. “Children shouldn’t be given a sedative, they should be hugged and comforted so they can heal naturally.”
“Careful, your hippie is showing.”
“What’s a hippie?”
Mr. Gunner laughed as he stopped in front of a lonely chamber in which two lab techs, one male, one female, waited patiently with Marie. “Where’s Mr. McAllister?”
“Trent is avoiding the scene because he knows how it’s going to go down.” Mr. Gunner’s tone was completely level.
Millicent knew how it was going to go down, too.
She took a deep breath and tried to shoulder her resolve, but the tears appeared, unbidden. She turned away and wiped her face quickly. This wasn’t forever. She’d see her daughter again, or she’d die trying.
“Stalling won’t make it easier,” Mr. Gunner said.
“Keep it up, and you’ll get that knife in your ribs.”
“Promises, promises.” Contrasting his words and tone, his hand gently landed on her shoulder. He squeezed softly. “You can do this.”
She didn’t want to do this.
Millicent squared her shoulders and walked through the door. Marie’s eyes lit up immediately. She jumped up from the bench and hurried toward Millicent. The toddler’s arms wrapped around Millicent’s legs until Millicent grabbed her under the armpits and hoisted her up. She hugged her daughter tightly, feeling the tears rising again.
“Let’s sit over here.” Millicent situated Marie on her lap and held her close. “Have you been good for the nice staffers?”
“Yes. I play ball.”
“You played with a ball?”
“Who dat?” Marie pointed at Mr. Gunner standing with his hands clasped in front of him, a block of muscle guarding the door. Another guard, half Mr. Gunner’s size, stood before the other door that led into the bed chamber.
Millicent tried to see the area beyond without being obvious about it. She’d studied the map and schematics of the area, but this was the first time she’d been allowed this far.
“That’s your—Mr. Gunner.” Millicent winced at her near slip as Mr. Gunner’s eyes, awash in malice, hit hers. So he had received the message. Apparently his version of “a better life” was waxing poetic about freedom while turning his back on obtaining it. He’d rather take the easy way out.
“Your guard, I was about to say,” Millicent corrected herself. “But that’s silly, because you don’t need a guard, right?”
“Silly.” Marie giggled and got off Millicent’s lap. She wobbled across the room and grabbed a ball. “Play, Mama!”
“Uh-oh, we don’t use that word.” The male lab tech smiled.
“She is four clicks above the Curve in communications,” the female lab tech said, hands clasped on her lap. “It’s miraculous. We’ve never seen it so high before. Only one percent are three above, and only five percent are two above.”
“I’m aware. Being within the one percent.” Millicent took the ball from Marie.
“And her dexterity? Her coordination?” Startled, Millicent looked at Mr. Gunner, who was awaiting the answer. He smiled in a disarming way, something she’d never seen before. “I, myself, am in the one percent,” he said. “I just wondered if she holds firm across the Curve or if her grid is sporadic.”
“Oh.” The female lab tech batted her eyelashes as she flushed. Millicent stared at her, wondering what had prompted the embarrassed reaction. “She is three above in coordination, and three in dexterity, I believe. Four in analytical capabilities, problem solving, three in logic . . . She is high in everything.”
“Her intelligence follows Ms. Foster’s natural abilities, then?” Mr. Gunner asked with a glimmer in his eyes.
“Oh. Um . . .” The girl’s face turned a darker shade of red as she used the screen on the wall next to her.
“Actually, she is a great crossing between both gene donators,” the male lab tech said as he jogged to get a discarded ball. “Some children develop more grievous traits, and Marie does have the temper and willfulness of the male donor, but we find that those traits are tempered nicely with the levelheadedness of the female breeder. Marie will lose her temper, have an outburst, and then settle down to solve the problem. Granted, the hitting is starting to become an issue. Both the breeder and donor have a dangerous inclination toward violence, but you need it in your line of work, isn’t that right, Ms. Foster?” The lab tech glanced up at her with a smile.
Wanting them to keep talking, since usually they were very tight-lipped about the donors, she took a page out of Mr. Gunner’s book by feigning a lustful expression. The lab tech went rigid, and a confused look crossed his face.
That wasn’t what she had been going for. “You were saying?” she asked, trying to cover the moment of awkwardness.
“Oh. Um. Yes, I was saying that it’s really a great pairing. One of the better ones. I think we’ll try that pairing again.”
“Have you ever had siblings before?” Millicent asked, feeling her face heat.
“Oh yes, a few. We don’t call them siblings, of course, but we need to track such things for breeding, as you can imagine.”
“Time,” Mr. McAllister’s voice rang out over the room’s speaker.
“No,” Millicent croaked out, feeling her heart jump into her throat. “Just a little longer. I was talking. I wasn’t—”
“Come on, Millicent,” Mr. Gunner said, taking a step toward her. “Stay rational.”
Emotion squeezed up throu
gh her chest and into her eyes. She reached for her little girl, unable to speak. Unable to utter a good-bye for fear she’d never see her daughter again.
“Where go, Mama?” Marie asked, her arms squeezed around Millicent’s neck.
“I have to go away, baby,” she said before kissing her daughter’s forehead. “I have to go away, okay?”
“See you tomorrow?”
“No, baby. I can’t come back.” Hot tears cut down Millicent’s cheeks. “I can’t come back, baby.”
That’s when the crying started. Millicent had no idea who was crying harder, she or Marie. Lights flickered. Her daughter’s little body was ripped away, along with her persistent hands. Strong arms took their place, yanking Millicent up and dragging her toward the exit.
She probably yelled. Maybe she screamed. If she failed, this was it. This was the last time.
“Keep it together.” The fierce growl rang through her ears. “They’ll wipe your mind if you don’t. Force your way through this.”
People were yelling: “Someone get her a sedative!” “I can’t get out—the child locked the doors!” “Override the locks!”
“Keep it together,” she heard again, crushed into Mr. Gunner’s chest. “Calm the fuck down, Millicent. They’re calling Mr. Hunt. We do not want Mr. Hunt active again.” His voice louder this time, he said, “Don’t just give the child a sedative, give Ms. Foster something!”
A sting pierced her arm. She struggled, but couldn’t get free of Mr. Gunner’s strength. Then blackness.
She came to consciousness slowly. Fluttering her eyes, she recognized Mr. Gunner sitting a few seats away. A lush green landscape covered the interior of the craft.
“I thought you didn’t believe in surrounding yourself with a false utopia,” she said with a scratchy voice. She cleared her throat, and then touched the skin over her strained vocal chords. Finally, her fingers drifted down to her chest, where something thick and heavy filled her. Something painful.
“You made a show of yourself,” he said quietly, looking out the window at a fast-moving stream.
“You don’t know what I’m going through.”
“No one knows what you’re going through. Which is why they don’t understand why you acted the way you did.”
“I’m not the first to react this way.”
“And that’s what saved you. Mr. Hunt was called off when I carried you out.”
She smoothed her hair. “What is your deal with Mr. Hunt? He was fine when he monitored me. Always stayed a few paces away.”
“There’s a reason for that. And a reason he’s forced to take Clarity. But anyway, you’re good. Do you want me to take you to your apartment?”
“No.” She checked the numbers on her wrist. “I have a few hours of work left.” She had to close down her work station, plant a few viruses, get her wits in order, and then plan for the evening. The end had finally come. She had to keep going forward, or she’d lose her nerve like everyone had before her.
Mr. Gunner typed something into the console and settled back.
“The guards?” she asked, noticing the absence of people in the roomy cabin as the craft jostled forward. They were in a holding bay. Mr. Gunner was clearly waiting for her sedative to wear off before moving.
“They’ll meet you at your department.”
“Turn the screens off.” She stared at the green pathway beside the stream until it blinked out of existence. A torrid gray sky greeted her. One that would kill her and Marie both if they were exposed to it for too long.
Not for the first time, a shock of doubt arrested her. She ran her palms up her arms, trying to warm up from the chill that was creeping in. “Am I doing the right thing?” she asked quietly. “What if I can’t pull this off—”
“Stop talking.”
She sighed. “Maybe the mind wipe—”
“Stop. Talking. You’re not yourself right now. Give it some time. Let things settle down. Get back into your routine. Then reassess.”
It would be too late by then. It was tonight or never.
But as the doubt grew—staring at that formidable sky and sitting next to this formidable man—she realized she had to decide. She had to really sit down and think it through.
In the face of what was before her, which was the better life . . . for Marie? By taking her away, whom was she saving? Her daughter, or herself? Because that was a big difference. And it meant everything.
Chapter 10
“Would you like something warm to drink, miss?”
Millicent stared at the sea of lights within the black night beyond her windows; no illusion hid the reality of the environment from her. Not anymore.
With each decade, developments in technology had allowed the builders to go higher and higher. As the world’s companies were gobbled up by ever larger entities, peaking in the three superpowers of Millicent’s time, old buildings were knocked down and super buildings created to house people and departments both. When the environment took a turn for the worst, and the heavy smog settled low, those with more status climbed to the tops of the huge high-rises, creating an elaborate travel-way system made possible by the advancing technology of automobiles. Driverless cars had come first, followed by hover cars. Now they were nearly driverless air ships in how they operated. Air ships controlled by computers. And only those who had extensive training manipulating those computers could override the controls.
She was one such person. With two hours to go.
Millicent sighed and looked down at her hands, answering the computer with, “No.”
Her computer didn’t respond with the usual follow-up.
A jiggling caught her awareness.
Frowning, because it sounded like the noise was coming from her restroom, she looked back. A body came out of the bay.
“Oh!” She jumped up. A knife immediately found its way into her hand. “Call for help! Intruder!”
“That call won’t go anywhere.” Mr. Gunner swaggered toward her in a tight gray suit. She’d cataloged him as big, but now, in her suddenly cramped space, she had a new appreciation for his size. He had obviously been bred for his job, and it showed.
“How did you get in here? This apartment is secured!” She backed up toward her small weapons bay.
“I’m security. Breaking and entering is my specialty.”
“I think you misinterpreted the job description . . .”
He leisurely took the few steps to the couch and then sank in. He threw a big arm over the back. “Join me. Let’s chat.”
“What are you doing here? How did you close down my loop?”
“Millicent—may I call you Millie?”
“No.”
“Millie, you’re tense. And that’s not good. When the eyes of several departments are watching you closely, you really should go back to blindly doing as you’re told. Like before this whole snafu with child rearing.”
She ground her teeth.
“C’mere.” He patted the space beside him.
She edged across the room, knife still in hand, and slowly lowered into an independent chair as far away from him as possible. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here? Closing down my loop will draw suspicion. I don’t need any of that.”
“Actually, you’ve already raised suspicion. Your work has taken on an edge of violent genius. Which is amazing, because you were already putting out genius, from what I understand. Now, though . . . they are as happy as a pig in shit.”
“I’ve never seen a pig, but I doubt it is happy in shit.”
“Be that as it may, the powers that be are a little worried about your ability to cope with today’s situation.”
“Today’s situation? You mean losing my—” She clenched her jaw to keep the words from escaping. The sharp bite of her nails against her palms helped her combat the emotion.
“No one is listening to this conversation but me. Consider it a professional courtesy. You can be frank.”
“Did you get my
message?”
“You mean, did my apartment go haywire for the second time since I’ve known you? Did a place that is supposed to be secure from all forms of intrusion get broken into? Yes, I got your message. And just so you know, I’ve risen to the challenge with the pressure on those weights. Apparently you thought I needed more muscle?”
“And your thoughts on the message?”
“You’re in over your head, princess. I shouldn’t have questioned you. Said those things to you all that time ago. Those kinds of thoughts on a weak mind can—”
“On a weak mind?” She pinched the knife blade between her index finger and thumb before leaning forward in the chair.
“Please don’t throw that. It would really ruin my night.”
She was just waiting for a reason . . .
He watched her for a moment, completely at ease. He must’ve realized what was on the line, but it didn’t show. “What happened today compromised you. But, Millie—”
“Stop calling me that.”
“—you can’t take on this conglomerate. I know you’re thinking about it. I saw you eyeing the security all week at the creation lab. But I know who implemented that security. You don’t have all the right assets. If you do anything rash, you’ll fail, and then you’ll get a mind wipe and have to start all over.”
“You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m enjoying my evening. And if you will excuse me, I’d like to keep on enjoying it. Alone.”
“Don’t be a fool, Millie.”
“Better than being a hypocrite, Mr. Freedom. Mr. Dick Wagger.”
A teasing grin lit up his face before he shifted and brought his arm down to his leg. “Dick wagger? I hadn’t realized you kept track of my dick’s movements.”
