by M. R. Forbes
The doctor laughed. "I've heard. You're in a military hospital, Major. If you wanted fluff, you should have been an actress or something."
"Are you harassing me?" Katherine smiled. She liked Doctor Villanueva. He was no frills.
"You'll know if I'm harassing you. Are you hungry?"
"No."
"Good. I'll have some food brought up." He glanced over at Yousefi and Michael. "As for you two, visiting hours are between ten and five." He pointed at one of the screens. "It's six-thirty."
"Do you know who I am?" Yousefi said.
"Yes, Admiral. And I know you outrank me, sir. I don't care. This is my hospital, and I run a tight ship. The Major here is going to have something to eat, and then she's going to sit here and watch the streams or whatever else that involves not moving."
Yousefi smirked. "Katherine, don't worry about losing your spot. I won't allow it to happen. In the meantime, get some rest. You'll need your strength to find Mitchell."
Katherine had started to lay back in the bed. The last part caused her to sit up again. "What?"
"I said you'll need your strength to fly the Dove."
"Oh. Right."
"Take care, Kathy," Michael said. "They've got me holed up in a room down the hall for observation until tomorrow. I'll stop by before I leave, at ten sharp."
Kathy reached out, taking Michael's hand and squeezing it. "I'm sorry," she said again, still feeling guilty for bringing him to the party.
"Don't be. Mitchell will make it better."
She froze again. Mitchell? Why did she keep hearing the name? It meant nothing to her. Or did it? She let go of Michael's hand. Maybe she needed some more rest after all.
Yousefi and Michael filed out of the room, leaving her alone with the Doctor.
"Did you hear either of them say Mitchell?" she asked.
He looked down at her curiously. "No. Why?"
"I don't know. For some reason, I keep hearing the name Mitchell, but I don't know anyone with that name. Do you know why that might be?"
He shook his head. "You didn't have a concussion or anything else that might be affecting your brain function. It could be the meds. We have you fairly well sedated right now."
She smiled. "Yeah, that's probably it."
"Well, everything looks good here. I'll get the food sent up. Keep doing what you're doing and you'll be out of here in no time."
"I'm not doing anything."
"Exactly. Good night, Major."
"Good night, Doctor Villanueva. Thank you."
He headed for the door, standing behind it as it slid closed. She thought she saw his expression change right before he vanished from view, shifting from slight amusement to complete seriousness. It seemed strange, but then again who knew what his next stop was. Maybe he had to tell someone they were going to die?
She rested her head on her pillow and closed her eyes again. Mitchell. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she had known a Mitchell during the Xeno War?
She laughed silently at herself. If she were hearing a voice in her head, it was either because of the trauma or the medication. She was ridiculous to take it seriously.
Follow the doctor's orders and rest. Help the wound heal so she could get back to training for the mission. That should be her priority.
She closed her eyes again.
10
Katherine couldn't sleep. There was nothing but fire and death mingled in the darkness of her closed eyelids. At first, she thought it was her mind trying to work through the attack at the party, to make sense of it, or at least come to some kind of resolution that would allow it to relax. When she realized it wasn't the attack, she began to panic.
She had fought in the Xeno War. She had downed enemy fighters and sent guided bombs to strongholds on the ground. She had killed in the name of her country and what she believed in. She had never shown signs of PTSD before. A sound mind had been one of the top criteria for Project Olive Branch. Now this had happened, and now she was seeing things, and now she was hearing things. It didn't matter what Yousefi said. If they did a psych eval and she failed, nothing he could do would get her on the Dove.
Nothing.
She wanted to cry but thought that would make it worse. She needed to pull herself together, not let herself fall apart. She did as the doctor ordered, remaining in the bed, resting her body. She couldn't rest her mind. Not yet. She closed her eyes again, focusing on her breathing, and on paying attention to what she saw.
Darkness. Silence. A blue pyramid. Multiple blue pyramids. Asteroids. Light. Candles put out.
It was a blur that repeated over and over, too fast to get any details from. It hurt her to see it, to feel it, to know that it was more than a nightmare. Something had happened to her that she didn't yet understand. She could either run from it or embrace it.
She had never run from anything in her life.
In Middle School, she had picked a fight with the quarterback of the high school football team because he was giving Michael a hard time about his weight. Michael shrugged it off, used to the jokes and jeers and teasing. She hadn't been able to let it go. She found him after practice and broke his nose, her expertise in martial arts making easy work of the dumb jock.
In the Air Force, she had gotten into dogfights with multiple targets at once on more than one occasion, always in support of another pilot who was outmatched and outnumbered. She had nearly been killed one of those times, damage forcing her into a landing that was rougher than the plane was expected to survive. Somehow she had.
Mission training was the toughest test of them all. So much competition, each of the men and women from countries around the globe equally decorated and skilled. Some were former enemies. A couple she had faced off against directly over the ice of Antarctica. They were on the same side now, but they weren't going to let their opposition beat them for one of the few seats on the Dove. Only constant, grueling work had pushed her over the top.
Whatever this was, she would figure it out. She had to.
Her eyes were closed, and she was trying to slow down the speed of her nightmare when she heard a soft click. The door to her room opening.
She didn't know what time it was. Late. A nurse, most likely. She was sure they thought she was sleeping.
She didn't open her eyes. Let the staff do what they needed to do. If it was time for more meds, so be it.
Then again, she didn't feel much pain. She remembered the last time the nurse had come in. It didn't seem like it had been that long ago.
She listened to the motion beside her. The nurse would always hit the screen and check her vitals and levels before she did anything. She waited for the brightness to seep through her eyelids.
It never came.
She could hear someone moving the IV tubing that ran to her wrist. She could feel it pulling lightly. She breathed in, smelling a stronger, more musky odor. A man. She raised her lids slowly, glancing over to her left.
Doctor Villanueva was hovering over her, IV in one hand, a syringe in the other.
"What is that?" she said.
The doctor jumped back, startled.
"Uh. Major. I. Ah."
He was stumbling over his words. Nervous. Katherine didn't like it.
"I said, what is that?"
She caught the motion from the doorway out of the corner of her eye. Doctor Villanueva wasn't alone. Two men in black were coming at her.
"I'm sorry, Major," Villanueva said. "You have to die. You'll ruin everything."
She wasn't restrained. She pulled her wrist hard, yanking the IV, the tube pulling the rack of machines behind the doctor. He was distracted by them for a moment, just long enough for her to wrench the IV free of her wrist, ignoring the blooming pain and blood sprouting from the area as she rolled off the other side of the bed.
One of the men had reached her, and he caught her on the way down, grabbing her and getting his arms around her waist, lifting her easily. She kicked back, hitting him in the groin, bringing her
elbow back and slamming him in the side of the head. His grip loosened, and she wiggled out of it.
Her gut burned, her body barely healed. She quickly scanned the room for anything she could use. There was nothing obvious, so she threw herself at her attacker, knocking aside a clumsy block and bashing him hard in the throat. He coughed and put his hand to his neck, while she skirted around him, seeking the door.
The other man reached for her, getting his hand on her shoulder. She pulled back from him, letting him tear the hospital gown away, using his momentary confusion to drive a knee into his stomach and knock the air out. A hard punch to the side of his face rocked him aside, and then she was through the door and into the hallway.
The first thing she saw was the nurse, dead against the side of the wall; her neck tilted way too far to the left. She felt the panic mix with her adrenaline. Michael had said he was just down the hall. To the left or the right? She didn't know, and would have to guess. She went right, sprinting down the corridor as the thugs regrouped behind her. There was no time.
She reached the first door, pushing it open. Empty. She ran to the next. Empty. When she reached the third, a loud report sounded, and a bullet hit the wall beside her. She pushed the pad to open the door, falling into the room. She got up in a hurry, pushing the door closed and searching for something to jam it.
"Kathy?" Michael said behind her. "What's happening? Why are you naked?"
Damn it. She had been trying to reach him before they did. She hadn't intended to get cornered in the room with him.
"I need to jam the door," she said.
"It's motorized," Michael replied. "You can't jam it."
She looked back at him. He was sitting up on the bed, wearing a pair of AR glasses and gloves and doing his nerd thing.
"We have ten seconds to disable that door, or we're both going to die."
Michael's face paled. Then his hands started moving.
"What are you doing? Didn't you hear me?"
"I was bored, so I was looking at the hospital mainframe. Lucky for us." He smiled mischievously as he did something she couldn't see.
She heard them outside two seconds later.
"Get off the bed," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling.
He was heavy but easily taken off-balance. He fell off the bed and onto the floor next to her. Loud pops followed. The bullets didn't have the force to make it through the metal doors.
Michael sat up, still wearing the AR glasses. His hands moved again, and the alarm klaxons began to sound.
"I can turn the sprinklers on, too," he said.
"I'm already naked. I don't need to be wet."
Michael leaned over and grabbed the sheets on top of the bed. "Here?"
She smiled, her body trembling from the adrenaline. She took the sheet. "Thanks. Are you okay?"
He shook his head. "No." His lip started quivering. "Someone's trying to kill you, Kathy. Why?"
"I don't know. Whatever is going on, it isn't safe here. They've infiltrated the military."
"Who?"
"The AIT? I don't know that either."
She paused at the sound of gunfire outside the room. It wasn't over yet.
"Are you sure the war is over?" Michael said.
Kathy walked over to the door, listening. The gunfire stopped a few seconds later. Doctor Villanueva said she had to die. That she was going to ruin everything. Did he mean her, specifically? Or the mission to launch the Dove?
The name Mitchell slipped back into her thoughts. Whoever he was, did he have something to do with all of this? It was all so strange.
"No," she said, looking back at Michael. Her friend was on his knees, breathing heavy, sweating, afraid. She felt even more responsible seeing him like that. "I don't think it is."
11
Reggie stood at the mouth of the alley, shrouded in shadow, his head lowered to keep his face hidden. It was almost seven o'clock, and the empty streets had slowly filled with people, the city waking up from another uneventful night.
He watched them go by, one after another after another, his expression flat, his eyes keen. He didn't want to steal from any of them, but the small box only had one thing in it, and it wasn't money.
How to get some money without hurting anyone? He wasn't sure. His head was a nearly blank slate, his understanding of society based more on instinct than memory. He knew he had been in cities before, and he knew how the exchange system worked, but he couldn't recall what the tokens looked like.
He tried to stay inconspicuous while a man in a silvery suit crossed the street ahead of him. Like many of the people who went by he was wearing a pair of thin glasses, with a wire that trailed to the back of his head and vanished beneath his collar. He could tell by the way he was walking that something was distracting him. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings at all.
Reggie left the alley, staying far enough behind the man that no one would suspect he was following, and close enough that he wouldn't lose him. He had done this sort of thing before. He was certain of it.
He followed the man for two blocks, trying to figure out how he would grab him. He would ask him the things he needed to know. Things he should have asked in the hospital. If he had, they would never have let him out. As if they could have stopped him. Hopefully, the man would be compliant. He didn't like hurting innocent people.
The man paused at a street corner. Reggie watched as one of the driverless cars slowed to a stop beside him, and the door to the car swung open. As the man climbed in, Reggie made his move.
He sprinted toward the car, slipping past other pedestrians with reflexive ease. He was on top of it within seconds, even before the man had finished climbing in.
They collided. The force of it threw them both forward into the vehicle. Reggie recovered in an instant, holding the surprised, frightened man back with one hand and reaching back to close the door with the other.
"Destination," a voice in the car said.
Reggie looked down at the man, who had fallen still to avoid injury. The man looked back at Reggie, clearly afraid he was going to die.
"Destination," the voice repeated.
"Where are you going?" Reggie said.
"Uh. Fourth and Main."
"Fourth and Main," Reggie said.
"The fare will be fifteen dollars. Approximate travel time is four minutes. Do you accept?"
"Yes."
The car started to accelerate.
"Who are you?" the man said timidly. "What do you want?"
"I'm sorry," Reggie said. "I'm not going to hurt you. I need money. I have to get to New York."
"What? Money?"
"Yes. To buy things. Like clothes." He pulled at his hand-me-down rags.
"I don't know where you're from, but you're wasting your time with me."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"I can't give you anything, even if I wanted to. Did you just crawl out from under a rock or escape from a mental hospital? We stopped using physical cash fifteen years ago. Everything is electronic. Digital. Secure. Even if you killed me, you can't get what you want."
Reggie stared at him. No wonder the man let himself be so distracted. He leaned off him, pushing himself into the corner of the car. "How can I get to New York?"
"Get a job. Earn it." The man sat up, straightening his suit.
"I don't have time."
"That isn't my problem, or anyone else's but yours."
The man's eyes flicked beneath the glasses. Reggie watched curiously. He was doing something with them. He seemed way too calm considering he had just been assaulted.
"What is that?" he asked.
"You don't know what AR glasses are?"
Reggie stared at them. In his mind, he caught a flash of a grid over his eyes. There were shapes in it, and they vanished one by one. Death. Destruction.
"Communications," he said, the tense memory turning into understanding. "Information. Augmented reality." He shook his head, trying to dislodge
more of what he had forgotten.
It was gone as quickly as it had come.
"Yes. I sent an emergency alert to the police."
Reggie felt a heavy mix of anger and fear. He looked up and out the windows of the car. Another vehicle was already behind them. It had a bank of lights on top of it, and official markings over the hood. A second slid neatly in front of their car a moment later, and the automated vehicle started slowing and moving to the side of the road.
"That's why you aren't afraid of me?"
The man shrugged. "I don't know who you are, but believe me when I say I think this is for your safety as much as mine. You're clearly troubled, sir, and I suggest you get the help that you need."
Reggie stared at the man as the car came to a stop.
"St. Louis authorities have requested compliance during this intervention," the car's computer said. "Please depart slowly, with your hands exposed."
The doors swung open on both sides. The man slid out of his side, keeping his hands out and up. Reggie continued to sit in the car. If the police took him, they would probably bring him back to St. Mary's, only this time he wouldn't have the option to walk back out.
He couldn't afford the delay. He needed to get to New York to find Major Katherine Asher.
He needed a way out.
12
Reggie kept his head turned, trying to watch the police in front and behind the car. The doors opened slowly, and two officers exited each vehicle. He could see the guns on their hips. They hadn't come out with them drawn, which was good. They didn't think he was a threat and weren't expecting any resistance.
One of the officers stopped the man in the suit. They spoke for a moment, and he pointed back at the car. Reggie could read his lips, and saw that the man was telling her what he had done. She looked almost sympathetic as she and the other officers approached.
He needed to think of something, fast. He would go out the left side, where the woman was. No matter how trained she might be, she wouldn't be as strong. The police cruisers didn't look automated. If he could take one, he could at least get a few blocks away before ditching it and heading off on foot. The city seemed large enough to disappear in.
