Chapter 2

47-12 Mark 31

Jon walked up the steps into the ship. He stepped back, startled, when a figure moved out of the shadows of the hold and into the light: a woman, petite, wearing a khaki flight suit. She had a clear gaze, a bright expression.

This wasn't real. She was gone. Taken from him.

Jennifer's blond hair was loose, framing her face, draped just over her shoulders. It gave her a rumpled look, relaxed and happy. Less severe than the pony tail--or the tightly pinned back style of the Dread Youth, which she had when he'd first met her. She'd worn it loose more and more as time went on. He liked it.

She gave a wry, lopsided smile and crossed her arms. His heart pounded fast.

"Hi, Jon," she said. "We never finished our talk."

He set his jaw, but he felt his expression twist with pain anyway. He'd finished that talk in his mind a hundred times. It went differently each time. All the things he should have said--

"I love you, Jon. So much," she said softly, the smile falling away.

He'd heard those words speak to him from memory so many times.

"Jennifer," he said. If he could say anything to her-- He closed his eyes, took a breath, looked at her, met her gaze. Her gray eyes were so clear. "I fell in love with you the first time I saw you smile. But I didn't know it. I didn't realize that was what I was feeling until you went on that mission to the med lab. I hated sending you there alone, and I knew what I would lose if something happened to you. I couldn't stand it. I--" His throat closed; he looked away. "I told you then that you weren't alone, and when it mattered the most I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry--"

"Sh, Jon." She stepped close to him, reached up and touched his face. "It's okay."

"I'm coming to get you. As soon as I get word, I'll come get you and bring you home."

"I know," she said, and smiled.

His arms closed around her, and hers around him. He bent his head to her and kissed her. He held her tightly--and his arms closed on nothing. She was gone, turned to mist. He stumbled forward--

His body flinched, and he woke up, afraid he was tumbling out of his bunk. The room was dark. Nighttime, still. Tank would be on watch at this hour. Jon was supposed to be sleeping. He'd gotten so little sleep these past few days.

Six days. It had only been six days. It felt like forever.

He missed her.

He rolled over, pulled the blanket up, wrapped his arms around his head. But that didn't keep out the voice in his memory.

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48-2 Mark 26

Finally, the signal came over an East Coast Resistance radio broadcast.

"I see a light in the tunnel," said Freedom Two's determined voice. "Repeat: I see a light in the tunnel. This is Freedom Two, signing out."

They'd agreed in advance that Jon would go alone, on a skybike. If it was a trap, they wouldn't all be captured, and one of them had a better chance of escaping than all of them. When they heard the broadcast, no one said a word. Jon looked at each of his team members, and saw a mixture of pain and hope in all their faces. He couldn't guess what they saw in him. He'd kept himself numb. He'd stopped feeling. His face was a mask. Grimly, Jon left the ship, powered on his suit, and took the skybike away from the temporary camp they'd made.

In an hour, he reached the rendezvous point, an abandoned settlement on the coast. He left the bike and approached on foot, holding his gun ready. He hadn't seen any trouble. That only made him more nervous.

He turned the corner around a shattered building and found Elzer Pulaski, Freedom Two, seated on a broken slab of concrete. He cautiously raised his hands, to show he was unarmed.

"We're all clear, Captain," he said. "I've got people securing the perimeter."

With a sigh, Jon holstered his gun. "It's good to see you, Elzer."

"Likewise." Elzer stood, and the two men shook hands. "How are you and the others holding up?"

"We're holding," Jon said. "That's about it."

"I've got news." The dark-haired man pulled a data disk out of a pocket. "The biodread really took a beating, but it finally regenerated. They got her, Jon. They got her out."

Jon closed his eyes and the breath went out of him. What was worse: believing her to be dead, or knowing she was alive and yet not being able to get to her? She was in enemy hands and he couldn't do a thing about it.

"What's her condition?"

"She underwent surgery for her injuries seven days ago. She's stable, now. They want her alive."

"Scout's transmitter tracked the biodread to a research base in Sector 18 before it was blocked."

"She's still there," Elzer said quietly and handed him the disk. "That has maps, intercepted transmissions, everything I could get."

The disk felt like treasure in his hand. "Not a medical facility. Not a prison. Why?"

"That I don't know. But if I had to guess: I think this is a trap. The data practically fell into my contact's hands. Dread has to know that you'll come after her."

"We have to take that chance." Not just for her, and not just for them. Pilot knew everything about the Resistance, the identities of all the leaders, the location of the Passages, the existence of Eden II--they had to get her out before Dread could pry any of that out of her. Pilot would resist interrogation as long as she could, he had no doubt. But Dread had other ways of breaking people.

He had to lock that thought away. He had to not picture Jennifer in that situation, or he would burst. Succumb to grief and madness. This was a mission. Just another mission. Had to be impersonal, for a little while longer.

"I know. Any of us would do the same for her. Captain--" He put his hand on Jon's shoulder. "She's tough. A survivor. I've seen it first hand. She'll hold on for you."

"I know. That's why we can't waste any more time."

"Be careful," Elzer said.

"You, too," Jon said, and saluted as he turned and trotted back to the skybike.

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48-3 Mark 1

Jonathan Power took shelter in the doorway of the lab room at the end of the corridor and watched for biomechs while Scout searched inside. This was taking too long, and the knowledge that this might all be an elaborate trap weighed heavier and heavier. He and Scout should have found her by now, but the place was a maze. They only knew that she was in this wing. They didn't know what room. In the meantime, they scavenged for any medical supplies and data they stumbled across. They didn't leave an inch of this place untouched, looking for her.

Tank and Hawk had rigged distractions outside. The base's security had scrambled to face what looked like a direct assault.

Scout called from inside the room, "Captain!"

After a final glance down both ends of the corridor, Power ducked inside.

Toward the back of the lab, in a section dimly lit by recessed fluorescent lighting and medical scanners, Scout stood next to a gurney, where a body lay. It seemed small, thin, maybe because it was dressed in flimsy shirt and trousers, like medical scrubs. An IV line was taped to one arm, oxygen tube inserted in the nose, and a mass of wires connected to the head amidst a tangle of blond hair.

Jon wasn't sure what he'd expected. He'd braced for the worst: seeing her abandoned and dying in a dank prison cell; strapped to a chair and tortured to death. Seeing her in the uniform of a Dread Youth, converted back to her old life.

What he saw here was sterile. She looked almost peaceful.

He moved closer and saw her face, partially obstructed by electronic implants imbedded into her left cheek, continuing around her eye socket and up into her scalp. Wires and steel lay flush with her skin, machine melding into flesh, edged with pink, only recently healed. Trailing lines led from the implants to the computer banks.

He touched her face. She was unconscious, didn't react. But that was the familiar slope of jaw, straight nose, and thin, pensive mouth. Gray eyes. She had gray eyes. When they were open.

"What have they done to her?" he said quietly.

"I don't know. But I've got the medical logs right here." Scout held up a data disk. His gaze was piercing, even behind the face shield of his helmet.

Power let his breath out in a sigh. "Can we move her? Is she well enough to move?"

Scout pointed. "That looks like a monitor there. If I'm reading it right, her vitals are all stable. Her ribs are bandaged. The IV is probably just to keep her hydrated. I have no clue what this mess is." He nodded at the wires and cybernetic implant.

One way or another, he wouldn't leave her. He'd vowed that even if he found her broken, dead, he wouldn't leave her. "Disconnect those wires."

He got to work. Carefully, Power slid the IV needle out of her arm and replaced the tape over the puncture wound. Scout took a little longer. So many wires, and he removed each one from the implants with a surgeon's care.

Finally, Jennifer was free. Power picked her up, cradling her as best he could in his armor. She'd never been big, but now she seemed light as air. "Cover me, Scout." The two of them trotted out of the lab and into the corridor. Time to signal the cavalry. "Jumpship, do you read me?"

"Captain, Hawk here."

"We got what we came for, let's get out of here."

There was a second's pause. "You found her. Is she all right? What--"

"Not now, Hawk, just get to the evac point."

Their timing was perfect. The ship landed at the base's auxiliary supply platform, steps down, just as he and Scout left the building. Scout stayed behind, pushing the Captain ahead, even though Power's instinct was to be the last one on board. Make sure his people were safe first. But he had precious cargo this time.

Scout nearly stepped on his heels following him, though. He shouldn't have worried.

"Hawk, get us out of here!" he called before the door closed. The ship lurched and climbed.

Tank was waiting with a stretcher. He helped Jon arrange her safely. The large man started to touch the metallic implants, but held back. He said, "What is it?"

"I don't know. Scout, scan her for transmitters, then upload those medical logs. We have to figure this out."

Jon knew this was too easy--they'd practically walked in, taken her, and walked back out. This was a trap, and they'd taken the bait. Anything could happen now.

But for the first time in over two months, he was able to sit back and breathe.

Jennifer was alive, and she was home.

----------------------------

They didn't go back to the Passages. If they were in the middle of Dread's trap, they wanted to keep that safe haven protected. Until they knew all the implications of what had happened, they were on their own.

They'd rigged a terminal for Mentor aboard the ship. The processing speed wasn't anything like it had been, but they deactivated the visual display and audio output and saved memory that way. It wasn't the same. The hold of the ship had become their defacto base. Portable--Dread couldn't find it. It wasn't their weak spot anymore.

They gathered around the terminal in the ship's hold. Jennifer slept in a cubby-hole of a bunk nearby. Slept. Jon hoped she only slept.

Reports were mixed about what digitization did to the victim, if it truly gave Dread access to everything the victim knew. Jon could safely guess now that digitization didn't lay the victim's mind bare. Dread could have learned everything from Jennifer, but all those secrets were still safe. Whatever Dread had done to Jennifer, she hadn't told him anything.

Uncharacteristically somber, Scout crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "After that last fight, she had a half-dozen broken ribs, a concussion, internal bleeding. They stabilized her, but she's still not completely healed."

First question: Jon asked, "What happened to her power suit?"

Scout said, "Destroyed during reintegration. I'm guessing that without a full charge, the circuitry couldn't withstand the stress. If it makes you feel better, it looks like a couple of Overunits got demoted over that."

A small favor, that Dread still didn't have access to that piece of technology. Jon nodded. "And the implant?"

"The implant contains a computer processor designed to intercept the synapses of the cerebral cortex. Higher thought processes, consciousness. Specifically, it fools the mind into thinking it's still digitized. Leaves the body comatose. They wanted to be able to use her as a pawn against you, without her giving them trouble."

It wouldn't have taken interrogation or reading her mind to guess how Jon felt about her. Dread--Taggert--knew him well, even after all these years. Jon remembered what were nearly her last words, spoken in a pain-filled panic over a tenuous radio connection: I love you, Jon.

Had to keep moving forward. Couldn't look back, dwell, or regret.

"But she's alive. She's still in there somewhere."

"She's got an active brain scan. So, yes."

"Can you remove it?"

Scout pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. "It's embedded too deeply into her brain tissue. I couldn't do it without doing serious damage. Not with our equipment. If we could find a surgeon with Dread's level of technology--" Even then, Scout shrugged doubtfully.

Jon maintained his calm, didn't let his voice show a hint of anger or despair. A master surgeon with the finest tools probably couldn't do the job. "Can you deactivate it?"

Finally, Scout smiled. "I think I can."

Jon closed his eyes and let himself hope.

-----------------------------

She looked better. Scout had removed much of the extraneous hardware. Steel circuitry still lay flush against her skin, making her look like she belonged in some Flame Street dive. With a quick touch, Jon smoothed her hair away from her face.

"She can't hear us, or sense us at all?"

"Hard to tell, Captain. Judging by her brain scans she looks like she's having one hell of a nightmare. But you wouldn't know it looking at her. Who knows what's going on in there."

She lay on a stretcher in the hold, to be closer to Mentor's terminal, and so the others could help if they needed to. Scout had made it clear he didn't know what would happen. She could sit up and be the same as she had the last time they saw her alive. Or they could lose her.

Jon had tucked a blanket over her, folded her hands over it. She really did look like she only slept.

Scout had inserted a couple of wires into the implants. They trailed away, connecting to the computer terminal. Tank monitored Jennifer's vital signs. Hawk watched a display showing power levels. They were trying to establish a network between the implant and Mentor, so Mentor could absorb and erase the feedback loop that had trapped her consciousness, without erasing her. Scout stayed by the stretcher, studying the maze of circuitry.

Jon had nothing to do but stand by Jennifer's side and watch. A year ago he might have thought it important to maintain his demeanor of command--stay apart, stay calm. Not now. He held Jennifer's hands. Maybe she'd know he was there, somehow. She would find her way back to him. They felt thin and limp in his grip.

Scout made another adjustment to a wire, let out a nervous sigh, then leaned over Hawk's shoulder to stare at the monitor. "Mentor, are you patched into the feedback program?"

Text scrolled up the screen, and Scout pointed. "Yeah, there it is. Now to isolate it. . ." He tapped a few keys.

Jon watched her face. No reaction.

"Okay. I'm ready to shut it down. Just give the word."

"Do it." His jaw tightened.

Scout touched a key; the text on the screen disappeared.

Nothing happened. Rather, everything happened internally, on the level of electrons and synapses, impossible to see. Jon's heart pounded, waiting. They all watched; the air was frozen with silence.

Her eyes flashed open.

For a moment, her gaze flickered; she seemed to see them, to recognize them.

Then, she arched her neck back and screamed.

Her whole body convulsed, the muscles spasming, her back writhing. She kicked the blanket and almost twisted off the gurney. Jon threw himself at her, pinning her shoulders to the mattress with his arm. He tried to still her legs, but the seizure was too strong. The scream continued, a noise of such desperate pain and fear that it tore at Jon's gut. Tank and Hawk were on their feet, moving to help.

Scout jabbed a syringe into her shoulder and pumped in a dose of sedative. He'd been ready for this.

In a moment, the scream quieted to a whimper, then to silence. Her writhing stilled, her muscles relaxed. She melted in Jon's grip, sinking back against the bed. She suddenly seemed heavy. Her head tilted to the side. Her mouth hung open.

Jon's hand shook when he touched the artery at her neck. It pulsed, slowly but steadily. He let out the breath he'd been holding.

He said, "That couldn't have been good."

Scout was at the monitor, studying something on the screen. He double checked the read-out of her vitals while the others looked on.

"Actually, take a look at this." For the first time through this ordeal, his voice turned quick, taking on its usual brightness. "It's the scan of her current brain activity. Compare that to the previous one. This--" He pointed at the newer scan, with its calm and steady lines, as opposed to the jagged, erratic lines of the previous scan. "This is what the brain scan of a normal, sleeping person looks like. Captain--she's asleep. This may be the first real sleep she's had in weeks. I say we let her go. Wait for her to wake up on her own." He shrugged and seemed entirely too casual about the whole thing.

Wait? How could he stand it?

But really, it was a small price to pay for the possibility of a second chance.