by Pamela Fryer
“That’s the one.”
“Your communication device?” Jager asked.
She shrugged. “If you ever come to Earth again, you could call me.” Knowing Jager was not permitted romantic relationships, she was careful not to reveal her feelings. “Just remember it’s an American number. If you’re in another country, there are additional numbers you need to dial first, but you can find out what they are from directory assistance. Got that, OMaGS?”
“Directory assistance. Affirmative. Got that.”
She recited the area code and phone number. Still, it would have felt better to write it down. She tried to convince herself a piece of paper could be lost, but OMaGS would never forget.
“It would be nice to see you again, Brooke Weaver,” OMaGS said in a softer tone. She suspected the much-more-than-artificial-intelligence knew all about the feelings she and Jager felt for each other, and quite possibly liked her a little bit too.
“It would be nice to hear from you again too, OMaGS.”
“The Faron programming to the English language is complete. It will take two minutes and twenty-six seconds longer to convert the panel buttons.”
“Don’t rush on my account.”
Jager crossed the cabinet to the weapons cabinet. He removed a length of what looked like shiny plastic tubing and set it on the narrow counter. He connected his own device to a silver band at the end of the tube and keyed in a series of commands. The tubing began to glow like a fluorescent light bulb.
“Medical chamber off.” The prisoner’s hair relaxed and his shoulders slumped. Jager looped one of the narrow tubes around Roall Vinill’s waist. It seemed to come alive with a will of its own, twisting around his body and both arms, and circling down his legs. “Revive the prisoner.”
Roall’s eyes fluttered. He glanced around, and then sneered when his gaze fell on Jager. “Vobosh nagu om sariffe,” he hissed, literally spitting the last word. His drunken gaze slid to Brooke. “You will die.”
She shrugged. “Everybody dies. Some sooner than others.”
Jager touched the panel of his Faron device. Roall went stiff, his jaw clamped shut. With robotic movements, he stepped down from the medical chamber’s platform.
“Whoa.” Brooke had her gun in her hand before the thought was in her head.
“Do not be alarmed.” Jager gently placed his hand over her forearm and urged her to lower her aim. “He is now controlled by the laser binds. He will not speak to you again.”
The prisoner’s eyes darted around, but his body was otherwise frozen. He looked both surprised and furious.
Good. Bastard.
“OMaGS, prepare for main processor detachment.”
“Three minutes and twenty-two seconds are required. The Faron device is now ready. You may use the time to instruct Brooke Weaver on its use.”
Jager removed the handheld device from the slot on the control panel and handed it to her.
“I have taken the liberty of programming it with commands and usage terms similar to those of your modern computer systems,” OMaGS stated. “Are you instructed on the use of computers, Brooke Weaver?”
“I’m no expert, but I know my way around a computer.” She glanced over the face. The buttons were now marked in English. “Is this little question mark for a help section?”
“The device comes equipped with a full operating manual. Additionally, you can view the screen in black text over white, or white text over blue, so as not to tire your eyes.”
“How is it powered?”
“The device is equipped with a niton crystal that will power it continually for two hundred and seventy-five years.”
“Wow. That’s one helluva battery.”
She glanced at Jager. “I’ll study the manual, so I know how to use it if an emergency arises. Otherwise, I’ll keep it safe.”
“The device comes with a password safeguard.” He took it from her and quickly pressed a series of buttons, and then handed it back. “It is ready to accept your password.”
She typed j-a-g-e-r-t-o-l-o-n on the touch-sensitive screen. A password she would never forget. When she glanced up, he smiled knowingly.
“I am now ready to disengage,” OMaGS announced.
“This will take only a few moments,” Jager said.
“Brooke Weaver—”
She looked around as OMaGS beckoned her.
“We will not encounter each other again?”
She glanced at Jager. “I don’t think so, OMaGS,” she said through a tightening throat.
“Then we must say goodbye. I have enjoyed your company immensely, and I regret that we did not have time to grow more closely acquainted. You are a valiant humanoid. When I recall your data, my memories will be fond.”
“Thank you, OMaGS. I enjoyed meeting you too.” She didn’t break Jager’s gaze, even though tears misted her eyes.
“Goodbye, then, and Godspeed.”
“Godspeed to you, OMaGS.”
The bright whiteness inside the ship dimmed and they were left with three weak lights that she assumed were emergency lights. Jager lingered for a moment, as if regretful. He sighed before turning to pick carefully through strewn wiring to make his way to the back of the ship. It only took five minutes to remove OMaGS’ brain. Jager plugged an electronic device into a rectangular box and slipped the processor inside. The box had a strap, which he placed over his shoulder. He then retrieved several weapons from the armory before locking it with the Faron device.
“We are ready to depart.”
The darkness in the ship matched her darkening mood. “I’ll bring up the rear.” She patted the .45 in her shoulder holster.
He programmed his device to make Roall Vinill walk in front. The prisoner’s steps were jerky and it looked uncomfortable. His face first registered outrage, and then he winced as though straining against the device.
They stopped at the edge of the cloaking device’s range. Jager reached into the tree and removed a pearly gray orb. From a small eye, slivers of multicolored lights spread outward in a cone shape, enveloping the two ships.
“Please retrieve this in a few days’ time.” His eyes danced as he grinned at her. “It may prove a useful tool. It is activated by this button.” He pointed to the round button in the center of a dial. “Turn the dial to indicate the spread of the beam. It is capable of a one hundred eighty degree spread, five hundred feet in diameter.”
“Fun. Sounds like you could hide a small house with it.”
He eyed her. “Please use it responsibly, if you use it at all.”
She eyed him right back. “Hot damn. I’ll never get a speeding ticket again.” She winked. “Just kidding.”
He placed the orb back into the tree. A few feet away, Roall Vinill tripped over a fallen branch and fell flat on his face. Brooke hooked a thumb in his direction.
“Shouldn’t we be watching him?”
“He is prevented from fleeing as he can only walk at a preprogrammed pace. But yes, we should. The control sensors are not precise enough to walk through a forest strewn with obstacles. Accidents can further his injuries.”
“Don’t worry on my account,” she said dryly. “I wouldn’t care if you walked him right in front of a truck.”
He looked like a robot that had fallen over as he continued to move his feet in a walking motion. Brooke helped Jager hoist the traitor back to his feet. Touching him made her skin crawl.
Jager aimed the device at Roall and pointed him toward the car. It was slow going, but Brooke was glad for the relaxed pace. Every extra minute with Jager would be cherished.
The traitor conked his head against the roof as Jager angled him into the back seat. “Raftiss shiss puncha!” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, whatever,” Brooke returned. “Dickhead.”
She drove down the gravel road, this time turning left from the plant’s exit. Brooke kept to the speed limit; it definitely wouldn’t be good to get pulled over with a prisoner bound up in
glowing restraints in the back seat.
Enormous, fluffy clouds passed in and out of the sun’s path, creating a surreal landscape of bright and dark. Each time the sunlight dimmed, her mood darkened with it, and then the emerging sun reassured her tomorrow would come safely, with Jager protecting Earth.
The only problem was he would do it from somewhere out in the galaxy.
She took a deep breath as it hit hard. She would never see him again. She blinked rapidly to stay the tears. She wouldn’t let the traitor see her cry, wouldn’t let Jager see her weakness. He needed her to be strong, and she would be, for him.
They turned off the highway onto a rural road, and then off that onto a county maintained access road. The ruts and potholes were a reminder there wasn’t much left of Ridgemont, and whatever funds remained were definitely being spent somewhere else.
She slowed to a crawl as the entrance to the fire road leading up to Windy Hills came into view. She stopped the car at a chain barrier blocking the road with a sign claiming governmental property and turned off the engine.
“I can’t drive any farther,” she told him. As it was, the rental agency was going to have a conniption when they saw their car. There was a pock-chip in the windshield she didn’t think had been there before, and a giant dented scratch in the hood she knew hadn’t been.
“Then we will have to depart here.”
She detected the same heaviness in Jager’s voice. Brooke almost felt foolish. How had she fallen so powerfully in love with this man in only three days? Was such a thing even possible?
Obviously, it was. In all her years, through all the heartache and tragedy she’d suffered, nothing hurt as much as separating from Jager now.
For a moment, neither spoke. The forest was thick here. Tall, majestic pines all but blocked out the sun.
“At the end of this road is a meadow clearing. You’ll know you’re there when you come to an open space overlooking the entire valley.”
Jager glanced out the passenger window. He got out of the car and opened the rear passenger door. Brooke got out too, slowly rounding the car as he programmed his Faron device to send Roall Vinill walking up the mountain by himself.
Brooke opened the trunk and retrieved a box of oatmeal bars. She shut the lid and rounded the rear bumper. “A whole box, just like I promised.”
“Brooke...” Jager pulled her close. “I wish I could stay with you.”
“I wish you could too.” She braced herself against him. Now she just stared at her fingers where they splayed across his breastbone.
“I’ll never forget you.”
“Don’t.” She glanced up, knowing he could see the tears swimming in her eyes. She didn’t care. “Don’t say anything more.”
Brooke slipped one hand around his neck and urged him toward her mouth. She kissed him, slow and deep. She didn’t want it to end, and she could tell by the way his lips lingered on hers, he didn’t either.
He stared down at her as they eased apart.
“You’d better go.” She swallowed. “You don’t want to miss your ride.” She pressed her eyes closed, squeezing out two fat tears. She quickly wiped them away.
Jager gripped her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
Then he turned and walked away.
Godspeed, Jager Tolon.
Brooke watched him until the trees swallowed him. She got back in her car, turned around, and drove back down the mountain. Only then did she let the tears fall freely.
Chapter Nineteen
Brooke had one quick stop to make before she took care of some long unfinished business. She blotted her tears dry in the police station’s parking lot, and then used eye drops and applied some eye makeup to hide the fact she had cried all the way back down the mountain. To anyone who took a second look, she would just appear tired. Very, very tired.
How sad and dull life would be without Jager. She’d never realized how truly lonely she was. Now it was painfully bright. That loneliness she had known through her days would spread into her nights, only a thousand times more bleak. She doubted she would ever feel warm in a bed again.
She clutched the vial of medication in her palm. Alex Christy didn’t deserve her concern, but she was above letting a man suffer painfully to a horrible death. Besides, he deserved a long, comfy prison stay, and for that he’d need his DNA intact.
Richard sat on the edge of one of the deputy’s desks, joking with the two men on duty. The rest of the officers were on patrol. Other than two office girls and the dispatcher, the place was empty.
“Hey, Weaver,” Richard called over, acting aloof. She glanced at the dispatcher, who nodded. She went straight through to the desks. Richard’s arm was in a cast and the bridge of his nose was taped.
“Alex do that to you?”
“The bastard head-butted me.”
She gave a crooked grin. “I won’t ask what you did. How are you feeling?”
He glanced past her and relaxed when he saw she was alone. “Just explaining to Walker and Quinlan how you tried to shoot Christy in the balls.”
She grinned at the two young officers. “Don’t you believe a word. Soon enough, ballistics will prove who has the better aim.”
The two men jeered and guffawed at Richard, making his ears turn pink.
“We’ll need to take your statement, Miss Weaver,” Quinlan told her.
“Of course. May I see him, please?”
She held her breath, half expecting them to say no.
“I’ll take you,” Walker offered.
Ridgemont’s six holding cells were almost as antiquated as Alcatraz. The officer unlocked a heavy steel door to the narrow hallway and let her through, waiting in the doorway. Two teenagers in the first cell bristled, and then slouched when they saw she wasn’t there for them. Thankfully, Alex Christy was in the far cell on the opposite side, and she could talk without the officer hearing.
He lay on the cot, his left arm bound in a sling, his right arm thrown over his brow. He was pale and shivering. He turned his head, and then turned back when he saw it was her. One eye was black and blue, and his lip was split. She waited in silence by the bars until he hoisted himself to a sitting position, easing the injured leg gingerly over the edge of the cot.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Fuck you.”
“Well, you seem normal.”
He glared at her. Just then, one of the parents of the teenagers came in and distracted the guard. Brooke rested her hands on the bars, holding the vaccination vial on the flat crossbar.
“You’re dying, Alex. The girl infected you when she bit you. You have two days to live, maybe three.” She shook her head. “If you make it that long, you won’t know it.”
He narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t argue. He was probably feeling so shitty he believed her.
“I can save you, but you are going to jail because I’m going to testify against you again. So maybe you don’t want to be saved.” She lifted her fingers, revealing the applicator sitting on the bar. “It’s up to you.”
His eyes darted to the vial, and then back to hers.
“But once you get out, or if by some miracle you get off, know this. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you on sight. So wherever you go, make sure it’s far away from me.”
Brooke pointed her index finger to the inside of her opposite arm, demonstrating what he was to do with the vial. She turned and walked out, leaving it sitting on the bar. She would know soon enough if he used it or not.
She angled past the angry parent, who alternated between shouting at Officer Walker and shouting at his kids, and headed for Richard and Officer Quinlan.
Richard’s laughter died off and he scooted off the desk where he’d been sitting. His eyes roamed over her, but this time she would swear it was with respectful appreciation.
“Guess what?”
She forced a smile. It sapped what little energy she had left. “What?”
“Captain Peters
is retiring, Johnson is being promoted into his job, Quinlan is being promoted into Johnson’s, and Jimmy is going on patrol.”
“That’s a fascinating story.”
“That leaves an opening.”
Brooke lifted her brows. “You going to go for it?”
He shrugged and then winced. “Well, I wasn’t gonna, but Johnson suggested I give it a shot. Front desk is the bottom rung, and I’d be on probation for a year, but hey, it gets me out of the butcher shop.”
A welling of emotion built inside her. She had to get out of this town. “Congratulations. You might just turn out to be a good cop after all.” She turned to Quinlan, not quite ready to report the body of Emily Randall in the abandoned factory. “Can I come back in an hour to give my statement? I have an appointment.”
He nodded, and Brooke turned for the door.
There was someone she had to see.
* * * * *
Jager stopped Roall Vinill’s motion at the center of the grassy plateau. He glanced up. Fluffy cumulous spotted the bright blue sky, with a haze in the stratosphere. He couldn’t see the ship, but knew it was there.
He gazed down the mountain at the town below. Glass and metal gleamed in the bright sunlight like Andalarian gems. The town was nestled into the most beautiful forestland he had ever seen, on any planet.
Somewhere within was the most beautiful woman he had ever known in any galaxy.
The pain of losing her was worse than he could have imagined, but Jager experienced a small amount of joy in knowing he would protect this planet with his very life. In doing so, they would still be together.
His device beeped a warning. Jager returned to his prisoner and readied himself for retrieval.
The first blast of cold air bent the grass around them and whisked through his hair. It increased in strength, and bluish vapors rose around them. For three seconds, he was trapped in a column of white.
Jager blinked, clearing his vision. He found himself in the briefing chamber on the rover. The prisoner had been transported directly to a holding cell that would serve as his prison for the journey to Ocreon. He would be fully healed upon arrival, and transported immediately to his indictment from the ship’s holding cell.
