Chapter 3

Voices.

She's unstable. Resisting.

Of course she's resisting. Increase the power. Overwhelm her. She will be broken.

If the tissue damage becomes too great--

The lights gave her such a stabbing headache, but she couldn't turn away or close her eyes.

Ah, the young traitor. You had such promise and now look at you. We should thank you. All your memories, your thoughts--all of them will become ours, and we will learn all of Power's secrets. How does that feel? You are a traitor again.

She tried to deny it. Tried to block out the pain--she reverted to the training of the Dread Youth. Feel nothing. Emotion is a sign of weakness, reject emotion and you are strong, like the machine--

A flash of a room appeared, banks of computers around her, she was lying flat, there were people but she couldn't see them clearly. She tried to piece together the memories, to make the story of what had happened to her since the motion of her hand on a keypad destroyed the base's reactor: light, then pain. She'd expected that, explosion then death, she only hoped it didn't last too long. Light and pain, then darkness--but the pain didn't end. All that was left was pain. After an eternity, the light flared again. She fell hard on a tile floor, and spotlights glared at her, then the voices started. Quickly, sedate her. Prep for surgery. Assess internal damage. Lord Dread wants her repaired--

Captured. Digitized by Blastarr and recovered by Overmind. She hadn't expected that at all.

When the time is right, we will show you to Power like this. The sight will break him.

This was why she should have died. She wouldn't hurt him, she would never--

The program is in place?

Yes.

No! she tried to scream--

She blacked out again. Life became a series of conscious flashes, disconnected, incomprehensible. Each time she opened her eyes, she had to sort out all over again where she was, what was happening. She'd given up trying to keep track of the situation. Instead, she held onto her core, the beliefs she had discovered on her own and kept close to her heart: Dread and his New Order must be stopped; she had good friends who were working toward that goal; she loved Jon.

"Pilot! Jennifer! Get down!" An explosion shook her to wakefulness. Startled, she looked around. Sparks and fire burned; an explosion rattled the walls. She could move this time. She rolled off the bed, crouched in its shelter, and tried to see what was happening.

Captain Power, spectacular in his gold-toned armor, hunkered in the doorway of the laboratory and fired into the corridor. Scout and Tank were with him. Hawk was probably flying patrol, luring away biodreads.

Power looked over his shoulder, back at her. "Jennifer!" He was the one who had called her.

He left the others to cover to the doorway and ran back to where she was crouched. She couldn't help it; she started crying.

Jon knelt by her, gripped her arms, wiped the tears off her cheek. "We're getting you out of here."

She didn't question how it had happened. She should have been dead.

That was strange, wasn't it, that she remembered dying?

She ran with them. Biomech troopers toppled before them, fell twitching in their wake. Then they were on the ship, with Hawk, everything just the way it ought to be. They were all smiling, so happy, and she was so happy to be with them again.

The Captain gestured to the pilot's chair. Her chair. "You want to do the honors? Fly us home?"

Home. It sounded so good. She was surprised, though. She shouldn't have been in any condition to fly. How long had she been out of it? Seemed like years. But she felt fine.

Her smile fell. She didn't feel anything. She ran her hand along the back of the chair and looked at her friends.

"Home. To the base?" If she hadn't really died, maybe the base was still there.

"No. To the Passages," Jon said, smiling. He hadn't taken off his helmet. She wished he would take it off, so she could see his whole face. How long had it been? She didn't know.

Jennifer looked away. "That probably isn't a good idea. I'm pretty weak. With everything that's happened, I should probably rest."

"Nonsense," Hawk said. "Go ahead, fly the damn ship. You know you want to. Get us to the Passages, then you can rest."

The four men formed a half circle around her, pinning her against the pilot's chair. They were all smiling.

Tank never smiled. At least, not like that, like he wanted to get something from her.

"I'm really not feeling well."

Jon stepped forward, took hold of her hands, guided them to the controls. "Come on. Just show us the way to the Passages."

It wasn't Jon.

She planted her shoulder against his chest and shoved.

She had just the right angle to throw him off balance, but the others were waiting for her. They were all so much bigger than she was. If she could run fast enough. . .

Tank grabbed her, wrapping one arm around her middle and hauling her off her feet.

This wasn't right, this wasn't Tank, this wasn't the jumpship, this wasn't real. She screamed--

My Lord Dread, it didn't work. Again.

Then try again. Sedate her, stop that noise.

The world went dark.

-----------

Jon moved a chair so he could sit close to her. They'd moved her to a bunk. He'd dimmed the lights in the hold, to make the place more comfortable for sleeping. The others were in other parts of the ship, working on their own tasks. He'd found he couldn't leave her alone. Not again. Not now.

"Jon?" Hawk stood at the top of the ladder. "Have some food. You should eat."

He didn't think he'd be hungry, but his stomach rumbled. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He stood and met Hawk at the base of the ladder. "Thanks, Matt."

He offered Jon a plate of something reconstituted and warm. Maybe one of these days they could invent a reason to meet with an Eden II representative and score another orange. At least it was food.

"How is she?" he nodded toward the bunk.

"Sleeping. I think."

Hawk smiled wryly. "I can hardly believe it. It's a miracle, right when we needed one."

"You know what they say about something being too good to be true."

"We're all thinking it, Jon."

"It was too easy. We found her because Dread wanted us to find her. We've taken the bait."

Hawk didn't argue. Jon hoped he would argue, offer a piece of evidence to show that his fears were unfounded.

But Hawk must have been thinking the same thing. "We'll watch our step. We'll be careful."

"I'm just--I'm scared. What if she isn't the same? We don't know what they're using her for, what the trap is--"

Hawk put a hand on his shoulder. "One step at a time. Wait until she wakes up. Then we'll see."

He returned to the vigil at her bedside.

He told her once that she'd never be alone, that they would always be there for her. But she had been alone--she'd almost died alone--and that image never left him. He still heard her voice. Think of me sometimes.

All the time.

"Jon?"

The voice came from memory. He'd been dozing, the plate of half-eaten food balanced precariously in his lap. Reflexively, he looked at Jennifer, habitually checking yet again for any change.

Her eyes were open and looking back at him.

The plate clattered to the floor as he jumped to his feet. He took her hand, touched her cheek. "Jennifer."

"Are you real?" Her voice was hoarse, barely audible--atrophied and unused. She sounded so sick and weak. But it was her.

He smiled. "Yes, I'm real. We're in the jumpship."

She said, "I died."

He nodded, unable to speak. He wanted to tell her to be quiet, that she should rest, that she was safe now. That he loved her.

"I've seen you in dreams." Her brow furrowed, confused. "But they felt real. Is this real?"

She'd been through hell and back, he reminded himself. They still didn't know all of what Dread had done to her. She had a lot of healing ahead of her.

"Sh, Jennifer. You're safe now. Please believe me."

"I do, Jon. I do." Her body was even weaker than her voice. She reached toward him, and her hand shook. She brushed a clumsy finger on his cheek.

"You're not dead, Jennifer," he said. "Not any more."

He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips--gently. Like he should have done a long time ago.

He looked at her; she stared back wonderingly, lips parted in amazement. Then she smiled, weakly. The best thing he'd ever seen.

"I wish we'd finished our talk," she whispered.

"We have a second chance. No regrets, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're awake!" Tank had appeared at the ladder into the hold. "Pilot!" He started for the bunk, then turned back to the ladder, to shout into the ship's cabin. "She's awake! Hawk, Scout!"

"Everyone's here," she said wonderingly. She tried to lift her head; the tendons in her neck strained, then she gave up and just lay there. She'll get better, Jon told himself. It was a small price to have her back. He hardly noticed the Dread hardware implanted on the side of her face.

Tank rushed to her bedside, his massive frame all but trembling with suppressed enthusiasm--he looked like he was valiantly restraining himself from scooping her up and spinning around the room with her.

Hawk and Scout were hard on his heels, and soon the four of them gathered around her. They were all here, a team again.

She squeezed her eyes shut, as if wincing from a headache, and turned her head away. "I saw this in a dream," she murmured. "It's not real."

"Jennifer." Jon couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice. "What do you remember? Go back to the beginning, back at the base."

She focused on him again, and he gave a small sigh. She wasn't all the way back to him yet. If she could just hold on a little longer. . .

She took a deep breath, then another, gathering her strength. "I remember the base. Clickers everywhere. Talking to you on the radio, Jon. I had to tell you--had to tell you everything but there's no time--" He smoothed her hair, hushed her gently, until she settled back into her story. "I was hurting, the biodread was there, then--" She shook her head. "I know there's more. But it was confusing. It didn't seem real. There was a lab, but it kept changing." Her voice faded and she looked away. "Every time I wake up, it's different. Is this real? Please let this be real--" Her voice edged into panic, and tears dropped from her eyes.

He held her face between his hands, wiping tears away. "It's real," he whispered. He wouldn't let himself cry. He had to be her anchor.

He felt the presences of his teammates, tense, rigid with anxiety. They were anchors too.

"We're all here, we're all real," he told her. "You're not alone."

She looked at them all. The spark was back. The light--the life--in her eyes was growing. Her smile dawned again.

"It has to be real," she said. "This is the first time I've felt safe."

He caught her up in his arms, holding her close, as tightly as he dared. Weak as she was, she hugged him back, crying on his shoulder.

She was right. They really should have finished their talk.

She dozed off, in his arms, leaning against his shoulder as he sat at the edge of the bed. He didn't want the moment to end. As brutal as the last few months had been, however hurt she was, this brief moment seemed perfect. He'd never move again.

One by one, the others left them alone. Hawk stayed longest. "You should get some sleep, too, Jon. You need it as badly as she does."

"In a minute, Hawk," he said. "Just another minute."

Hawk smiled, smoothed back Jennifer's hair, and left the hold.

Finally, when he started to doze himself and had a vision of the both of them crashing to the floor when he lost his balance, he eased her back to the mattress, supporting her head until it lay on the pillow. He arranged her hands, pulled up the blanket, and touched her face one more time.

As he drew away, her eyes blinked open. "Jon?"

"I'm here." He took hold of her hands. She squeezed back.

"I don't want to sleep," she said, panic edging her voice. "When I wake up again it'll all be different, and I don't want this to change. You'll be gone, I'll be back in the lab--"

"I won't go. I'm not going to leave you." Never again.

She shook her head. "I don't want to sleep."

"You're still hurt. You need rest."

"I know," she said, anguished. "But I'm scared."

He couldn't leave her. An idea took him. He looked at her, looked at the bed. There'd be just enough room--

"Hold on a second." He untied and pulled off his boots.

A tired grin quirked her lips. A spark of the old Pilot. It heartened Jon to see it.

"You're planning something," she said. "I know that look."

He hopped up on the edge of the bed, stretched out beside her, and gathered her in his arms. She curled next to him, nestling into his embrace. There was barely enough room for both of them. But he'd never felt more comfortable.

"There," he said. "Now we can both sleep."

Smiling, she lay her head on his shoulder. In a handful of breaths, she was asleep.

In another handful, so was he.

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

She awoke. The lab was empty. And she could move. She wasn't tied down to the table. And she remembered everything. Jon, she had to call Jon, if she could get to a comm terminal and let him know she was alive--

She swung her legs over, slid off the gurney--and fell. Her legs didn't support her. She couldn't feel them. Paralyzed. She tried to pull herself along the concrete floor. Had to get out, any way she could--

A figure blocked her path. He was tall, garbed all in black, shining armor, like the chitin of an insect. His eyes glowed red.

Did you think it would be so easy, Youth Leader Chase?

Not my name, she gasped, or tried to, but her voice had frozen as well. Corporal Chase, reporting--

I'm not finished with you, yet.

He reached for her, and she flinched away in terror--

And gasped, her muscles clenching reflexively. She felt herself falling, but strong arms caught her and held her tight.

"Sh, it's okay. It was just a dream."

She was lying in bed with Jon, clutching the fabric of his shirt, her face pressed to his chest, and he was holding her. He was so warm and solid, and smelled of sweat and of living in close quarters--so human. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, to remember his smell.

But the dream lingered. Rather, the memory lingered.

"Jon. It wasn't a dream."

He continued hushing her, comforting her, brushing her hair with his fingers. Being with him like this had been such a dream of hers once, but that had been so long ago. Now, it was like tasting water in a desert, and she expected the oasis to disappear at any moment.

Her voice felt stronger. Speaking was easier, which gave her hope. "It's not over. They did something to me."

His finger traced a line up her left cheek. Then, sensation stopped, and she was aware of an ache, a tingling that had been there so long it had grown familiar. She lifted her hand to his, to feel what he touched. Metal. The wires and circuits of a machine, sunk into her skin and warmed by her body.

She wasn't surprised. Horrified, but not surprised.

She curled her fingers around his. He gripped her hand tightly. She said, "I was inside the machine. I still am."