The boys treated me as if I might shatter at any moment—or as if I might go insane. Wash irritatingly stripped me of my weapons, insisting that we could not know, really, how strong Gamma was.

On the ship, they continued to shoot me wary glances. Gamma found this all very amusing, laughing at my frustration and mocking me loudly in that disgusting monotone of his.

"Jesus, can't you at least turn the volume on him down?" Grif complained.

"If she could, she probably would have done it already," Tucker replied. "I can't tell you how many times I've tried to get Church to shut up."

"Hey!"

"How long is it going to take to get there?" Donut asked the pilots—Sarge, Wash, Simmons and Tucker. "Should we have tried to fix the portal instead?"

"With the Engineer's handiwork, I have no way of knowing how long that would take," Simmons explained, shaking his head. "Better off just using what works. Once the GPS here calculates our location and the location of the Freelancer Storage Facility…"

We waited a few moments until the Alien computers transmitted our request.

"Oh, no…" Simmons said. "It'll take about a day to get there. A day!"

"You're kidding!" Grif groaned. "We're stuck on this ship for a whole day?"

"Stupid piece of Alien junk," Tucker added.

I bit my lip. Could I possibly stay awake long enough to make that? Could I last another 24 hours?

"Eleven, you're okay with that?" Wash asked me. I looked up, my brow knit.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"You're a terrible liar," Gamma piped in. "She's exhausted."

"Shut up!" I snapped. "No, don't listen to him. I'm fine. I'm not tired at all."

"You know, you can take a nap on the way there," Donut suggested. "You could use some beauty sleep, you kno—"

"No!" I interrupted hurriedly. The others stared. "I—I can't. I can't sleep."

"What are ya talkin' about, missy?" Sarge demanded. "'Course you can."

"If I fall asleep, he'll be able to do things to my mind." I swallowed. "He said he'd—he'd be able to make me relive my worst memory."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wash tense, but I refused to look at him.

"Let's just get there fast." I stood up and started pacing. "And be sure to stay loud. I am not going to doze off because you, of all people, were too quiet."

Wash looked at me a moment and then set his jaw. "No."

"Excuse me?"

He grabbed the controls and spun the ship around. "We're not going to the Freelancer Storage Facility."

"Oh? Then where are we going?"

"The Mother of Invention."

I stared. "Wash. That won't help. You know what happened after it crashed. The AI removal system won't be—"

"We can't afford to risk going to the facility. I've located the MoI and it's only about a couple of hours away from here."

I peeked over at the new map he had conjured. "In the opposite direction!"

"Aren't you willing to take that risk?" Wash glared. "I am not going to have you fall asleep. The storage facility is just too far away."

"How do you know that the AI removal system will still even be there?"

"It was built into the ship. Even if all the memory has been removed, we have a secret weapon." He gestured to the little floating Alien tickling Caboose with its tentacles. "We can see if the Engineer can do some handiwork."

I was skeptical, but Wash would not be swayed.

We were visiting the Mother of Invention.

When we reached the deserted planet, part of me wished the Mother of Invention would be gone. Removed. Confiscated and torn apart.

It was there. Still in the crash position, an empty, massive behemoth of dented metal and cracked windows. I could hardly bear to look at it. Not after everything.

Inside, Gamma's incessant knock knock jokes reverberated through the empty halls. I tried not to think about my life here. I tried not to think about my friends roaming the halls, training together, lounging in the break room, enjoying the mess hall cookies…

"Good Lord," Gamma scoffed. "You do not even need me in here. You torture yourself just fine."

Wash glanced at me as I bit my lip. All of my coworkers—all of my friends had thrived here under the Director. That evil piece of scum had been the reason they had—they had…

My friends. Our footsteps seemed to echo their names through the dark, empty hallways. Georgia. York. Alabama. Utah. Delaware. All figures I had not dared to think about in years.

Then, we turned a corner to the residence hallway. My breath caught in my throat, and I could envision the ghosts of the Freelancers coming and going, trotting around to each other's rooms to talk, to laugh, to shut the doors mysteriously and bury themselves in the escapades so restricted by the Director…

I tried not looking at the doors as we passed, but could not help but stop in front of one. One that I had entered and exited a thousand times in years past. The boys paused and looked at me questioningly, but I ignored them and finally had the nerve to look up.

The door was blank.

I gasped and strode up to it, running my hands over the cool metal where the label had been. The neat black letters had been scratched off and the metal polished, now as flawless as if it had never been tainted to begin with.

I had been erased.

The Blood Gulchers began to talk at me, but Wash shushed them. I couldn't speak. The months I had spent here—the countless analyses I had processed and training procedures I had witnessed had been for nothing. I slammed the door open, and nothing was in the room. Not even my bed or my desk or a chair. I had, for all practical purposes, never existed at Project Freelancer.

Ignoring the rest of our group, I closed the door and continued down the hallway, my mind burning. Gamma was enjoying himself, of course, adding in an editorial with all his snarky comments.

"Just leave her alone," Wash whispered to the boys. For whatever reason, they decided to comply.

As we reached the laboratories and AI testing chambers, the horrible, sinking feeling in my stomach began escalating to a full-on ulcer.

We stopped in front of the entrance to the area labeled AI Implantation and I froze. No. No, no, no.

"I can't do this," I blurted, backing away from the door. "I can't go in there. No."

"Ells, you have to!" Tucker protested. "This is the only way—"

"No!" I shook my head fiercely. "You don't know—you don't know what I've—I've seen—what I've been through—"

"Yes, I do," Wash replied quietly. "I know better than anyone."

My jaw dropped. Did he—did he really just say that?

"Which is why—" My voice cracked. "You know. I can't. Go. In. There."

Wash looked at the others. Donut looked almost scared to see me in this state.

"We need a second," he said to them. "Alone." Without another word, he grabbed my hand and took me down the hallway and around the corner, far enough away to be out of earshot of the others.

"Eleven," Wash said, his voice low. "I know this is hard for you. It's hard for me too. What happened that day—we won't ever be able to recover from that. Ever. You and I—we just—" he struggled to find the right words. "We both died a little that day. But we can't keep running away from it. The only way to save you from Gamma—who will make you relive everything again—is to go in there and take care of this once and for all."

"Wash, please, I…" I looked down, and my hands were shaking. I tightened them into fists and rested them over my ribs. I swallowed and finally, finally admitted it: "I'm scared."

"It won't happen the same way it did for me," Wash said firmly. "I promise. We're taking an AI out, not putting one in."

I nodded and took a deep breath. "All… all right. I'll do it."