Chapter 29, part 1.
At first, it seemed that the consequences of the Daily Mail's big reveal would not be too dire. As much as she hated to have her name out there, it didn't seem like anyone has connected her with the Program—the new cover story was holding. It did produce quite a big stir in the media when various talking heads tried to analyze this new 'space arms race' with China that Alice's cover seemed to be pointing towards, but since they were met with a consistent no comment from each side of the supposed conflict, it eventually died down in the mainstream and only continued to be wildly discussed on conspiracy theory groups and message boards. Alice's private life, though, suffered somewhat; anyone she knew, even as a passing acquaintance, suddenly found the need to reach out and some even tried—and inevitably succeeded at—contacting the press to share their own little tidbit on Alice Boyd, the 'BA 218 hero', as the media had dubbed her before the Daily Mail's revelation. People she hadn't spoken to in years would suddenly come out of the woodwork to brag about knowing her, and Alice found herself reading fantastic accounts of their supposed 'intimate relationship' in tabloids, on blogs and in Facebook posts all over the Internet. Anthony, a guy she met while doing her PhD at AFIT and had a one-night-stand with, tweeted that they used to be 'an item'. Annie Troy gave an interview to a gossip site recalling their schooldays and making it sound like they were best of friends. Even Zach contributed to the hay by tweeting some photos from his and Chiyo's wedding with Alice in attendance, pretending it was coincidental.
The one clearly absent from all this bragging and fussing was Aaron; if someone made a connection and asked him for a comment, he must have refused, for he did not appear in any of those articles and posts. He also did not try to contact her anymore after her last authoritative text and she told herself it was for the best; but not having him there for her felt like an open wound, especially that she knew he was the exact person she'd go for advice to in this situation if they were on speaking terms. As it was, she was reduced to try and reign in the chaos on her own.
A few days after the initial reveal, Aga's profile of Alice came out in the New York Times, reigniting the interest. It contained a lot of details that weren't available anywhere else and, among other things, it identified Alice's old callsign as Tinkerbell. This, in turn, led to people discovering her Twitter page and she thanked her stars that she had always stuck to science there. She watched with disbelief as the number of followers ticked upwards in great big lurches: from the initial hundred-and-twelve to five hundred, a thousand, three thousand, fifteen thousand, fifty thousand. She thought about deleting the profile altogether, but then Marc, the creator of the pop-science website she was now writing for once a week, DM-ed her to express his excitement at this wealth of new potential readers and she didn't have the heart to tell him she did not enjoy the spotlight in the least, especially after he revealed that his wife's chemo was not going as well as he had hoped. She responded with an empathetic message of support—and stayed on Twitter.
Wow, if I knew taking down hijackers would be what gets people interested in science so much, I'd've done it a long time ago!, was the only thing she tweeted on the subject, alongside a shortened link to In Layman's Terms. And the website's visit counter showed an adequate increase in traffic, which in turn delighted Marc, and that was really the point of it.
The very next day Forest Crawford showed up on her doorstep, asking if she would come to the next blood drive—and could she by any chance tweet about it? Resistant at first, Alice finally succumbed to his insistence and appeared at the Citadel Mall that Saturday, alongside an avalanche of prospective donors who all read her tweet and came by led by curiosity—ready to agree to give their blood in exchange for a possibility to gawk at Alice and exchange a few words. Alice was glad to escape the scrutiny as soon as her two-hour shift ended, spared by Deanna and Bruno.
"Well, that was fun," Elena Ramos commented as they made their way down to the parking lot. They did not have much time to talk this time, but Forest had paired them off anyway. "You didn't seem to enjoy that too much, ma'am."
"It's Alice—and no, I didn't." Alice shook her head emphatically. "I am a very private person even under normal circumstances—I'd never do this if not for Forest's pleading…"
"Yeah, he's good with that—convincing people, I mean." Elena nodded. "Like he had convinced you to talk to me last week."
Alice raised an eyebrow, looking at the girl sideways. "You mad at me for that?"
"No. Just an observation. You're not a regular member of the Springs Together."
"I meant every word, though," Alice told her seriously. "I didn't lie to you."
"I know," Elena acknowledged, equally gravely. "I mean… that article in the New York Times—it mentioned the Army court-martial and all…"
Alice sighed. "Yeah. I wish this didn't have to come out—but it was public at my own request. I wanted other women he'd hurt to know they weren't alone." She paused. "By the way, I had to cut our last talk short—but I still want to help. Will you give me the name of your judge?"
Elena stood by her car (it still bore some signs of her erstwhile crash into a storefront and Alice wondered why she was allowed to drive at all), contemplating it for a moment. Then she shrugged.
"I guess it won't hurt. I mean, not that I believe it will actually change anything, but let's try it out. His name is Judge Hennessy."
Alice nodded. "Thank you. And remember—if we succeed at getting you a new therapist, you promised to try to get better. I will hold you to that."
"Sure, sure." Elena didn't seem too bothered, as if she didn't really believe she'd have to keep the promise. "Well, thanks and see you next time." She waved, got into her car and drove off, leaving Alice slightly exasperated.
Still, she didn't lose time to visit the judge. Crawford was happy to come with and even managed to get them an appointment in the judge's busy schedule quite soon. Convincing the man was not easy, but Elena was right—Forest had a certain talent of persuasion, and Alice's new celebrity status (as temporary as she hoped it would be) did not hurt, either. Eventually, Hennessy agreed to switch the therapist for Elena—and to ensure that this one would be a woman, since Alice had an inkling that the girl might find talking about her ordeal with any man uncomfortable.
Aside from helping to convince the judge, the whole situation had one more unexpected benefit: it was so all-engrossing that it blunted any other pain. Alice had dreaded the month of April—and it still was horrible, with plenty of sleepless nights and a sea of tears shed in the dark hours before the sun came up. It was a month of double death anniversary for her—Karim's first and her dad's seventeenth scarcely two weeks later. Still, the chaos that followed the reveal of her name as the 'BA 218 hero' took so much time and energy, not a lot was left for grieving. And that was a good thing—though Doctor Green didn't exactly agree.
"It's important to give ourselves time to grieve," she told Alice. "Yes, it hurts, but avoiding it is not going to make it better. Remember where it had led you the last time."
Alice did remember very vividly—so much, in fact, that she never wanted to feel pain like that again, even if it did mean avoiding the problem altogether. But she couldn't escape it entirely—still it haunted her nights and rare empty hours during the day. Sometimes she wondered if any of this was even worth the effort—she had been working so hard to get better, and yet it was so easy to slide right back down to the bottom of the well! But, she reminded herself, what she had told Elena was still true: as hard as it was, she knew she could scramble out, at least partway. And it was better to try than sit idly in the depths, trying to breathe when the water was above the level of her head.
Sources close to the President confirmed that the 'BA 218 hero' might be getting yet another award. "A bunch of hijackers cannot be considered enemy combatants," one of them told USA Today. "The highest decoration that can be awarded outside of combat is the Airman's Medal." Some might think it would hardly be a distinction to someone already bearing the Distinguished Flying Cross on her breast, but this is not the case, our source assures us. "Every award counts towards the servicemember's performance evaluation, and every one is to be worn proudly as a visible confirmation of their bravery." With the Distinguished Flying Cross, two Bronze Stars, Air Medal, three Purple Hearts and a bunch of other awards and decorations, Major Boyd certainly does not lack for reasons to feel proud. On the British Isles, however, speculation is rampant on how the Royal Family might choose to express their gratitude for Major Boyd's heroic actions that saved 82 of their subjects—alongside their own necks, if the hijackers succeeded at crashing into the Buckingham Palace. Words such as Royal Victorian Order and knighthood have been repeated in the press and in social media more often as of late, and it is not unreasonable to…
Alice jumped when the sound of the door sliding open interrupted her quiet reading. She locked the phone and threw it on her desk, getting up to greet her visitor.
"Hey, Jennifer."
"Hiya." Hailey waited for the door to close behind her and then made her way around the table in the middle of the room—which was covered in blueprints and parts of unfinished projects—to sit down in the chair opposite the desk. "Got a minute?"
"Sure." Not that Alice had been in any way productive. She was finding it hard to stop googling her own name to see what else the press was saying about her. "What's up?"
"I want to ask for a favor. See, I've been working on something for the past—what, two years?" Hailey shook her head. "And I think I figured it out, but I need a second opinion. And then probably a third, fourth and hundredth, if I know IOA."
This piqued Alice's interest. "Okay, sure. What's the something?"
"It's a Destiny thing," Hailey explained. "Essentially, I think I figured out how to get them home."
Alice felt a frisson of excitement. "How?"
"By refining Eli Wallace's plan to dial Earth from inside a star." Hailey leaned back on the chair. "We know his way worked because it did get Colonel Telford home. We also know that it subsequently failed because of a solar flare that sent the remainder of the crew—minus Doctor Rush—back in time thousands of years. If I'm right, we can eliminate that risk—and the risk to the ship itself by implementing some of the cognitive programming we've gleaned from the Asgard. You've done extensive work in that area, so I thought who better to check my code?"
"No amount of cognitive programming can predict a solar flare," Alice noted warily.
"No, but it can compensate once one is detected." Hailey shrugged. "I've done the simulations, Alice. It worked every time."
"Well, then, I'd be happy to run through it," Alice said with enthusiasm. "If there is any chance of bringing them back, we must investigate."
"Yeah. The thing is—well, in order for this to work they would need to affect specific changes to some of the core systems, and not just the soft, but also the hardware. They don't have the required tools, spare parts or raw materials to manufacture them aboard. So, this is more of a theoretical solution." Hailey sighed and leaned back in, putting her elbows on her knees and her face on her linked hands. "If they manage to get through to the next galaxy—and that's a big if—and if they all wake up—that's even a bigger if—they will have extremely limited resources, half-operational ship, and who knows what kind of new enemies to contend with in this new galaxy. So whether they ever find the raw materials and are able to manufacture what is needed is a huge question mark…"
"Still, it is better to have a potential solution than no solution at all," Alice reassured her. "We can't predict the future, but we can prepare for it. Plus…" She hesitated.
"What?"
"Well, the Lucian Alliance is rumored to be talking to the Langarans again. If they are open now to negotiating with the Alliance, maybe they'll be more open to listening to us, too. Then we could at the very least send them the resources they'll need to get this done."
"Oh, God, that would be amazing," Hailey agreed, though Alice sensed some conflict inside her.
"And when they're closer to the end of their jump, we might even be able to send in backup," Alice supplied.
"Yeah…" Hailey was clearly embarrassed now. "I would even volunteer for that—I mean, it's my code, it would make sense for me to go—but… but I can't," she added and then sighed. "Can you keep a secret, Alice?"
Alice raised her eyebrow. "You're really asking me?"
The older major chuckled. "I guess that was a silly question. But—don't tell anyone, please. The reason that I can't volunteer is that I'm pregnant."
Alice blinked quickly, temporarily shocked into near-speechlessness. "What?"
"It just happened. I'm on the pill, but—you know it's never one hundred percent." Hailey shrugged, straining to look nonchalant. "We're still talking about it, but I'm pretty sure I wanna keep it."
"Wow," Alice murmured. "I mean, congratulations! That's great news!" Alice decided a bit of impulsive intimacy might be in order at this time, so she stood up, went around her desk and hugged Hailey. "You're gonna be an excellent mom."
"Oh, I don't know," Hailey laughed, but she sounded a little choked. "I might be too strict for the child's good—thank God for Ricky! He'll be the perfect antidote for me."
"It's nice that you have each other," Alice agreed, getting back to her seat. She realized belatedly that she sounded a little jealous.
"You'll find someone for yourself," Jennifer assured her with a tiny smirk, as if she was actually doubting her own words.
I already have—and then I lost him, Alice thought, but Hailey's disbelieving attitude raised her hackles a little. She wasn't that much of a lost cause—was she?
"Anyway, don't worry about anything. Send me the code and the data and I'll run through it, and if it checks out—though I don't doubt it will—you can take it further. It'll take a long time to get this approved by the IOA, I bet, and by then it'll be obvious why you can't go. Someone else will." Not me, though, she didn't add. Alice's own mission would take precedence—it was yielding too much useful intelligence on Lucian Alliance's operations for the IOA to let her interrupt it for any reason. That it yielded zero leads on Jareth interested them little—though it frustrated Alice to no end.
Hailey nodded, seemingly mollified. "Yeah, you're probably right. I've never seen IOA act quickly on anything. Chances are the baby will already be born by the time they make the decision!"
"That's the spirit!" Alice quipped.
"Okay, so let me get back to my lab and I'll send you the details. Just let me know if there is anything I can clarify or whatever."
"Sure." Alice nodded and then they said goodbye and she watched Hailey walk out. Damn. A baby. People's lives were going on all around her. Aaron had a son, Jake left active duty to have a chance at a relationship, now Hailey was going to go on maternity leave—and who knew if she would ever want to go back to field work… would Alice be the only one stuck in place?
"Martini for you from the gentleman over there, ma'am," the bartender said, putting a glass in front of her and pointing behind. She looked and then rolled her eyes—but she was smiling. She nodded and a moment later a tall, muscular and handsome man in an elegant suit sat down next to her at the bar.
"The history repeats," he said, putting his whiskey next to her new Martini. "Good evening, Major."
"Mr. Derby," she acknowledged him with a nod.
"I thought I asked you to call me John the last time." He raised one eyebrow.
"Okay, but only if you call me Alice," she challenged back.
He grinned. "With pleasure, Alice." He prolonged the s so it sounded a bit like a snake's hiss.
She rolled her eyes. "You know I could report you for stalking."
He chuckled. "I know you wouldn't do that. You're too nice."
"Nice, yeah, sure." She shook her head. She was tired of playing nice all day—to the flight attendants on her redeye from Denver, to the crowds at Heathrow who somehow knew she'd be coming and decided to throw her a welcome party right there and then, to Durnham and O'Donnel who rescued her from the throng and escorted her to a town car that took them to the Home Office building for a debriefing, to another crowd—this time composed mostly of journalists—that stood in front of the Old Bailey… What she wanted was to scream at everyone to leave her the fuck alone, but, of course, she couldn't; with the case being so wildly publicized, she had to handle herself with utmost professionalism, because her behavior reflected on the American military's reputation. So she continued to smile nicely as she repeated her no comments mantra in a tone that suggested mild disappointment that she couldn't, in fact, comment.
"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Derby asked, sipping his whiskey.
"No." She played with the liquid in her own glass, swishing it around instead of drinking it. "I hate this. I hate all of it."
"I can tell." He nodded thoughtfully. "For what it's worth, we really tried to keep your name out of the press. Daily Mail is shite."
"No kidding. Did you ever find out who talked?"
"A kid in the Irish ATC." He shrugged. "He wasn't even on with you, he was just there in the room. The little fucker's not even nineteen, a complete newbie, he was interning there or some shit."
"I hope at least he was well compensated for his revelation," Alice added darkly, heavy sarcasm in her voice.
"No doubt," Derby agreed. "Though I have to admit, reading your profile in the New York Times gave me a lot of insight I didn't have before."
Alice rolled her eyes again. "Fantastic."
"You really are a fascinating woman, Alice," he proclaimed, his voice low and his eyes twinkling.
She shook her head and didn't respond. She knew what he was hinting at, and for the moment she wasn't sure how she felt about it. The very thought still felt like a betrayal—but didn't Karim betray her, too, when he lied about being divorced? And wasn't a year long enough to keep celibate? After all, what Derby was proposing wasn't a long-time thing. Just a no-strings-attached one-night-stand. In a couple days, she'd be back in Colorado Springs, and he'd stay here in London. It wouldn't mean anything—just a bit of fun. And proof that she wasn't a complete lost cause…
"Come on, don't let me beg," he purred, sensing her hesitation.
She wet her lips, very conscious of his probing gaze, picked up her Martini to dry the glass in one big swallow, and then stood up.
"I'm gonna go to my room to prepare for my testimony tomorrow," she announced, turned around, took two steps, stopped and then looked back at Derby. "Wanna come help me out?"
"Yes, ma'am!" He replied, gulped the rest of his whisky and followed her across the dimly lit bar out into the lobby and into the elevator. She kept him at a distance with an assertive look until they got to her room—and as soon as the door closed behind them, she let him press her into the wall and kiss her like she hasn't been kissed since the night before Karim died.
"Mmm, that was nice," he said, dropping back onto the bed after a trip to the bathroom.
She chuckled easily. "That word again."
"Well, I'd say 'bloody fantastic', but I'm afraid you'd think me too sappy," he quipped, kissing her exposed shoulder. "How did you feel?"
"I think I made my opinion quite clear already," she said, blushing a little. What a damn prude I still am!, she thought to herself, half-amused and half-exasperated.
He laughed. "Ah, yes. But it could've been better—I can do better, if only you'd let me…" He put his hand on her neck and moved it slowly down, towards her breasts—currently hidden beneath a comforter.
She swatted his hand away. "I said no." It made her feel icky—she could barely admit it to herself, but it made her think of Jareth's probing fingers on her skin, back in the castle, during one of his examinations. "My turn," she added, a bit too frostily, getting up from the bed. She recognized her own bitchiness, but couldn't help it.
He didn't comment, watching her as she walked around the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. When she came back out, cleaned up and refreshed, she was wearing her pajamas.
"Oh, is the fun to end now, already?" He seemed genuinely disappointed.
She raised one eyebrow, lying back on the bed on her side, propped up on an elbow to look at him easier. "Could you go on?"
Her doubtful tone must have actually gotten to him, for his face froze in an unpleasant mask.
"I do have to be up early tomorrow, you know," she added, trying to placate him. "And it would be best if I weren't a zombie during my own testimony. Lots of people are gonna be watching."
He didn't seem too mollified. "Perhaps I should leave so you can get your beauty sleep, then."
"I'm not kicking you out," she replied a bit querulously, and then took a deep breath to calm herself. "I'd like you to stay—please."
This seemed to do the trick. "Ah, hell," he murmured, rolling onto his side to face her. "How could any man refuse you, gorgeous?"
She dropped onto her back and he leaned in for another kiss before moving to pull the comforter on top of them both and taking her into his arms to spoon.