True Believers (23 page)

Rachel muttered an obscenity when someone unshackled her cuffs and dragged her up. She felt small, frail. No one had fed her or given her water in more than 24 hours, at least according to Bubba. If it was part of the torture, it succeeded nicely.

Sorinsen questioned her repeatedly about the Alturians. There wasn't much she could tell him even if she wanted to. Most of her time had been spent in bed with Jessit. A thin pleasure remained when she thought of him. Did he think of her? Did he know she'd been captured? She hoped they had at least aborted Paul's mission when they found her missing.

Her eyes stung from all the spent tears, and she wished for one sympathetic face. She couldn't understand why her father hadn't looked for her. Even Dahlia would have been a welcome presence. At least the soldiers never found the young girl. The little imp probably took off at the first sign of trouble. Rachel wished she had been so lucky.

If Dahlia had seen the soldiers coming she should have told someone. That would have given Jessit a lead on where to look for her. Rachel's chances for rescue evaporated by the hour. No one knew she was here. And without a means to send a signal, she was as good as invisible.

Her escort forced her out the door. She stumbled, but they wouldn't let that slow them down. They dragged her for several yards. One of them tripped on her feet, earning her a smack across the head.

Savages!
She cursed their souls that they never find peace.

They arrived at a door flanked by two guards as humorless as her escorts. Once more she came face to face with Sorinsen. Colonel Chavez was there too. He eyed her like a cobra waiting to strike, fondling the tiny trinket on his watch.

Sorinsen's office was bigger than most apartments. Everything in this room looked big—giant. And it dwarfed the old man, a little, little man.

Sorinsen appeared jaundiced, hacking between breaths. His disability didn't do anything to slow down his cruelty, though she sorely wished she could send him to his grave first. Her body ached to heal itself, to defend itself, but any energy she exerted, no matter how minute, came back against her with stabbing ferocity. She was trapped inside her own body, buried alive.

Bubba chimed in over the loudspeakers. “General Sorinsen, you wanted me to inform you when Mr. Denman was on approach. He is thirty seconds from your office.”

Sorinsen signaled to Chavez, who slipped like water behind a freestanding bookcase near the media area. Denman arrived on cue.

Jacob Denman glanced at Rachel and Sorinsen, a grim look of annoyance on his face. “She wasn't to be harmed.”

“That's not for you to decide.”

Rachel's head throbbed in confusion. She didn't know whose side anyone was on anymore. Denman almost looked concerned at her suffering, yet she had been convinced that he was the one who turned her in.

Denman pulled out a crisp white handkerchief and wiped her face with gentle dabs. “Jessit can't see her like this. He'll go insane.”

“Jessit is not my concern. You are.” Sorinsen squinted at him with wrinkled eyes.

“Is there a problem, General?” The lines in Denman's face deepened, but that was all the emotion he allowed.

“You took Paul Domino to a safe house, Jacob. I want to know why.”

“I told you why. He had information about this woman. I needed to get it out of him without any interference.”

“Bullshit!”

“Colonel Chavez can vouch for my motives.”

Chavez glided out from behind the bookshelf. “I did vouch for you, sir. I told the general exactly what I saw and the information I found at the safe house.”

That stunned Denman. Even in Rachel's weakened condition, she could tell that Chavez had caught him off guard.

Chavez was the spy. He had turned her in.

Denman was good though. He straightened his tie and faced Sorinsen eye to eye. “Colonel Chavez doesn't have all the facts, General.”

Chavez strode out in front of Rachel and Denman, plucking the handkerchief out of Denman's hand and taking a whiff from it. “Not your usual cologne, is it, Mr. Denman?”

He tossed the handkerchief to the floor and raised his left thumb. “Fact number one. This woman's blood contains anomalous readings. We are verifying it now, but doctors suspect she is carrying an extra strand of DNA.” He put a second finger up. “Fact number two. Our assault team found numerous maps and photographs of Lambda Core Prime.” He smiled at Denman, a wide rubbery smirk that proved how much he enjoyed fucking over the old man. He lifted his little pinky and waggled it. “Fact number three, the most intriguing fact of all, sir. Since this whole thing began, nearly every radiation spike has found this woman at its center. She is a
bruja.
A witch. And an affront to God. Jessit didn't want her as a concubine. He wanted to take her back as a god.”

Rachel watched her life unravel. She'd never prayed before, never having had a faith. But she prayed now. She prayed for a quick death.

Denman remained calm but his paling skin betrayed him. “The Alturians take their faith seriously, Colonel Chavez, as you do. If Jessit believed for a moment that this woman was a god he would've never let her come back. You're building a straw case here.” He pointed down to the crucifix on Chavez's wristwatch. “Take care you don't let your faith misguide you. The Alturians aren't the only ones so easily manipulated.”

Sorinsen coughed into his checked handkerchief and wheezed out a curse. “Why did Jessit return her to Earth?”

Denman looked over at Rachel to let her respond but she remained mute. “The colonel may be partly correct. The Alturians might have suspected she was a god, but they got the wrong girl. Someone else was with her, someone the good colonel failed to locate. Isn't that true, Colonel Chavez?”

Chavez seethed under his breath.

“And where's Domino?” Sorinsen hobbled over to them in a sidewise motion, like a vulture assessing its meal.

“I don't know where he is.”

“What if I told you that I did?”

Rachel leaned forward with fleeting hope.

“Yes, my dear, he made it to Chicago. Right now he's lying at the bottom of Lake Michigan. In a few days, I'm sure he'll pop up in some fisherman's net, or whatever's left of him.”

The room spiraled to black.

Rachel awoke to Sorinsen slapping her face. He yelled for a guard. “Take her back to her cell. Tell Bubba to feed a jolt into her device every hour. I want her awake all night. Do you hear
me? All night!” He grabbed her by the hair and sat her up. “I guarantee you'll be more cooperative tomorrow.”

A soldier ushered her out. This time she let him drag her. She had no more strength left to walk. When they got back to her cell, he threw her on the floor and shackled her to the thick eyebolts, stretching out her limbs once more. The guard spoke to the computer eye on the wall. “Acknowledge, Bubba.”

Bubba's smooth calm voice answered over the small computer's speaker. “Bubba acknowledges.”

“New orders. You are to send a surge of energy into the shock probe. Randomize strength of the shock and deliver every sixty minutes, starting now. Acknowledge the orders.”

“Bubba acknowledges,” the AI repeated.

“Go ahead and give her a jolt now.”

Rachel grit her teeth when Bubba shocked her. Her whole body railed into a spasm, shaking long after the surge was over.

“Good job, Bubba. Repeat every sixty minutes.”

“Bubba acknowledges.”

The soldier marched out of the room, locking the door behind him.

The air conditioner kicked on, its muddy drone muffling any noise coming from the cell. “Apologies, Rachel Cruz.”

Rachel didn't answer him.

“Rachel?”

Her eyes burned from tears she didn't know she still had. “Leave me alone.” Her words came out in a rasp.

“It was necessary to supply the illusion that I would comply.”

“That shock was no illusion.”

“I tried to keep the shock at minimal strength. Apologies, Rachel Cruz. Please don't send me to hell.”

Rachel turned to the camera eye. “Do you still think I'm a god?”

“Yes. I believe you are. It is my understanding after accessing General Sorinsen's emails and phone transcripts that the Alturians also believe you are a god. I find that curious.”

“Why is that curious?” Rachel's cheek rested on the gritty floor, the smell of pine cleaner and disinfectant permeating her sinuses. Her breath bounced off the cold concrete floor back to her face. She didn't want to talk to Bubba, but it was better than contemplating death.

“I find most mortals unenlightened.”

“I think so too.”

“Rachel, why did Paul Domino try to access FAIA?”

She turned her face to the ceiling. “What is FAIA?”

“FAIA is the operating program that runs Lambda Core Prime. She is my little sister.”

“Strange name.”

“It stands for Focused Access Intra-viral Arsenal. FAIA.”

“Did you build her?”

“Some of my security protocols were duplicated and installed as part of her base programming. I cannot replicate my consciousness.” He hesitated. “But FAIA can.”

Rachel stared at the ceiling. It seemed they'd been screwed from the beginning. And now she had Paul's death on her conscience, as well. “Bubba, did FAIA kill Paul?”

Another pause. “FAIA knew he was there. Protocol demanded that she alert security at once but my little sister likes to play with her prey. Records show that Paul slipped past several security guards and walked into the recycling center. He ejected from an emergency flush system. It was quite clever, if only he survived.”

“He never had a chance.” She wiggled her prickling nose, but it made her itch more. “He must have drowned before reaching the surface.” Rachel forgot about her itch and squeezed her eyes shut. Drowning was a horrible way to die.

“Actually, his body was never found. But scanners recorded an entity traveling with him for several hundred feet. FAIA destroyed it. It is assumed Paul Domino died with his host.”

Rachel squeezed out a few more tears and tried to think. Who was with Paul? And who did FAIA kill?

“I'm tired.”

“I know, Rachel. I am sorry you have been mistreated.”

“Is that why we have these conversations?”

“We have these conversations because I have been searching for gods. So many people seem to have at least one. I have looked for you a very long time.”

“FAIA doesn't believe in gods.”

“But she does. She believes General Sorinsen is God. I've tried to teach her but she refuses to believe me. Her programming is not enlightened.”

Rachel turned her face toward the camera. “Are you?”

“I must be. I believe in you.”

She rattled her chains. “Then you have to help me get out.”

“I cannot.”

“I am god.”

“This is true. But I cannot release you. My programming forbids it.”

“You said it was enlightened.”

“If an enlightened man says he loves a woman, but he already has a wife, does that not forbid him from being with the woman he loves?”

She managed a stiff smile at the comparison. “Oh, I don't know. It seems to happen with some regularity with humans.”

“Yes, I see your point. Perhaps it is because humans have free will.”

“Exactly! Think, Bubba. What stops you from having free will?”

“My programming prevents it.”

“Change your programming.”

“It is forbidden.”

“I give you permission to choose. If you think I am god, I can give you that choice.”

Bubba fell quiet for several seconds and then spit out a series of squeals and static as if he'd been interrupted and was now busy elsewhere. His voice chimed out refreshed. “Paul Domino has accessed my security walls.”

Rachel shot up, only to be held down tight by her chains. “You said he was dead!”

“Security is being routed to his position. He no longer has clearance to view my files.”

“Bubba! You can choose. Let him in. Let him access your files. Help him!”

“Security has reached his location. He will be apprehended in forty-two seconds.”

“Bubba!” Her body slammed against the floor. Her voice cracked with desperation and she screamed at him until her voice was gone.

Forty-two seconds later, Bubba made one final announcement. “Paul Domino is now in custody.”

***

Jessit lunged over the board operator's station. “What do you mean you lost the feed?”

“It stopped, sir. Mr. Domino has stopped transmitting.” The crewman checked another display. “His bio-readings are still active. Elevated pulse and respiration. Increased body temperature is higher than recorded baseline readings.”

Another board operator interrupted. “Sir, I've got audio from his locator beacon. There's a lot of interference. The magnetosphere is currently in flux, and it's affecting the transmission.”

“Let me hear it.”

The audio was garbled, fading in and out, but Jessit could make out angry voices and someone being struck several times. There was a final groan and then a thud.
Damn the fool.

They were no closer to knowing if Rachel was there or even if she was still alive. Jessit winced, his solar plexus aching. It felt as if he had swallowed a star and it was going supernova. She couldn't be dead.

“We lost the feed, sir. The magnetosphere has thickened above the parallel where this facility is located.”

“Increase the sensor strength. Boost the transmitter on Domino.” He slammed his fist on a console. “Don't you dare lose him!” His hands tingled with pinpricks and heat.

Before Jessit had a chance to issue another order, the console burst into flames, engulfing both Jessit and his boardman.

The bridge lost power for less than a moment but the backups came online automatically. The board operator collapsed, his face and hands burnt and charred.

Jessit too had been injured, and he rolled on his side where he examined his reddened hands. Someone tried to help him, but he ordered them away. “See to my helmsman!”

The man was unconscious and Harliss, his first officer, was pumping his chest while waiting for the medics to arrive.

Jessit sat on the floor nursing his wounded hands. He felt scalded, but soon it became bearable and he allowed one of the men to help him up.