Chapter Ten
Thursday, March 29th, 0012 NE
1143 hours (local time)
EDEN Command
NOBODY TIFFANY had ever known—not growing up, not in flight school, not in EDEN—had spent as much time in the air as she had. She’d logged hundreds of hours as a teenager, both with her daddy at her side and on solo flights, and she’d spent far more hours behind the stick at the Academy than any of her classmates. It was significant, then, that of all those flights, from cross-country to halfway around the globe, that the one to EDEN Command was the longest one she could remember.
She had no idea how long she’d sat in the flying transport—for there were no clocks or windows—but it felt like an eternity. Flanked by a pair of guards and seated directly across from Jaya, it didn’t take long for Tiffany to grow tired of looking at her captors and opt to close her eyes, something that resulted in her falling asleep rather quickly. When she woke, she had no idea if she’d dozed for a few minutes or been sacked out for hours. She only knew that when her eyes reopened, Jaya was buried in a book that looked halfway finished and one of the guards, whose face she couldn’t see behind his visor, sounded like he was snoring. As ominous as her destination may have been, then, it still came as an overwhelming sense of relief when the whine of the engines shifted and the captain announced their arrival over the speaker.
Putting a bookmark in place, Jaya set her book down then stared across the troop bay at Tiffany. When the blonde made eye contact, Jaya’s eyes narrowed.
As a person who generally sought to see the good in people, it said something that when Tiffany looked at Jaya, the only emotion she felt was pure, unbridled rage. Jaya was the only experience that Tiffany had had with any EDEN Command official—discounting Willoughby, though he wasn’t technically at EDEN Command anymore. Jaya came to embody, at least in Tiffany’s mind, everything that was wrong with the organization. She’d been so uncaring when she’d talked to Tiffany, so callous and arrogant sounding. She’d even smiled when she’d told Tiffany about her friends in Atami. How could anyone find joy in relaying such news? It was like she couldn’t restrain it, like she couldn’t wait to tell Tiffany that her friends were all dead—which Tiffany herself had begun to doubt for no other reason than because Jaya was a liar. It was so uncalled for. So undeserved! So completely and utterly maddening. “I mean, geez Louise!”
The two guards at Tiffany’s sides flinched. Blinking behind her spectacles, Jaya looked at Tiffany like she was crazy. “What?” the woman asked.
Oh turnips, I said that out loud! After clearing her throat and sitting upright to try and play it off, Tiffany said, “Yeah, I mean, geez Louise! Flight took long enough, am I right?”
No response came from Jaya or the guards—they simply stared back in bewilderment.
Sighing, Tiffany leaned her head back and waited for the transport to land.
Despite her nap, Tiffany had had plenty of time to think about things. Her situation, her friends, whatever awaited her at EDEN Command. She had a fairly good grasp on the basics of the conspiracy—a guy named Archer was conspiring with aliens, the Fourteenth of Novosibirsk had been set up to look complicit in the attack on Falcon Platoon, yadda, yadda, yadda—which she felt was more than enough to justify everything she’d done. Tiffany was a feeler. Always had been. And the Fourteenth felt right. Even before she’d met Scott Remington, she’d spent time living with his unit while handcuffed to Travis. They in no way, shape, or form behaved like a group of terrorists. They were so real. So friendly. It didn’t matter that technically they didn’t have a speck of evidence to their cause beyond what could be dismissed as circumstantial, or possibly, fabricated. They still felt legit. Real. The bee’s knees. Regardless of what she heard from anybody else, she couldn’t disregard what her heart had felt so intensely.
These things were playing through her mind for a reason. Now that she was in EDEN custody with practically zero chance of escape, she knew what was coming. EDEN knew she wasn’t a part of the Fourteenth and that she’d just been swept along for the ride. She was positive that the angle they were going to play with her was that the Fourteenth had played her for a fool. They’d probably show her all sorts of supposed “evidence” and other nonsense in an effort to persuade her to betray her friends. But she wasn’t about to let that happen. As terrified as she was, she was determined to block out whatever noise EDEN threw at her. She knew the truth. Or perhaps more accurately, she felt the truth. That counted for something, right?
It all boiled down to this: she wasn’t going to budge. Whatever they told her, whatever they tried to convince her, it didn’t matter. She might have looked like a Valley Girl on the outside, but on the inside, she was hard as iron.
The V2 clunked down to a landing. The cabin lights brightened. As the guards at her sides unfastened their harnesses to stand, Tiffany’s stomach rolled upside down. It was time.
A whining noise came from the back of the transport as the rear bay door lowered. Tiffany was yanked up by one of the guards as Jaya sashayed past them, tapping her finger on her waist like she was late for an appointment. Seconds later, the door was down.
As Tiffany was pushed outside where other armed guards were waiting, she looked around to see if she could gauge what kind of facility this was. It almost looked like the entire hangar was built into a cavern. Any chance to focus on the environment was short-lived, as she suddenly found herself grabbed by an arm by the guards who’d met them. The next thing she knew, she was being dragged forward.
Tiffany’s heart pounded. All that building herself up, all that summoning of her courage…it felt like it was crumbling down. They were going to torture her. If she didn’t talk, they might even kill her. She wanted to turn, to run, but it would have been to no avail. There was absolutely nothing that could save her.
“Hold it right there!”
At the sound of the woman’s voice emerging from afar, the guards and Jaya suddenly stopped. Following their gazes toward the voice, Tiffany watched as an older woman approached.
“Get your hands off Private Feathers right now. She’s to be remanded to my custody.”
The woman was tall, with faint streaks of gray in her auburn, shoulder-length hair. Her uniform was…official. More official than official. She almost looked like she might be…
Tiffany blinked. Holy cannoli, this is a judge!
“Excuse me?” Jaya said, staring at the newly arriving woman.
“Excuse yourself,” the woman answered before barking at the guards, “I said let her go.” When Tiffany was unceremoniously released, the judge looked at her and said, “Miss Feathers, my name is Carol June. I apologize for the way you’ve been treated. Don’t say a thing, don’t answer any questions.” She snapped her fingers at the guards, then pointed to Tiffany’s handcuffs. “Uncuff her right this second. She’s coming with me.”
A red-faced Jaya shot back to the older woman, “What exactly is going on here?”
“The way you asked that question, it’s almost like you think you’re entitled to an answer,” said June without looking. Beckoning Tiffany to follow, she turned and began walking away.
Tiffany was not about to argue. She hurried to catch up with the quickly departing judge. From far behind them, Jaya shouted, “This will be brought up!”
Pausing, June turned to look at her younger, feistier counterpart. “The glasses are a nice touch, kid, but they don’t make you smart.” The judge canted her head with scrutiny, her eyes narrowing. “They don’t even look right. They make your eyes look disproportionally huge—I don’t know how you’re not more self-conscious about it.” Turning around before she could see Jaya’s reaction, June continued up the hall, Tiffany in her wake.
Eyes widening, Jaya blinked and opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. Within seconds, June was out of anything but shouting distance. Inhaling through flared nostrils, the young Indian woman stood erect, hands straightening out her outfit with a firm tug. Upon turning her head briefly to the guards, she did a faint double-take when she saw them staring at her. Face tinging red, she stormed away.
To say Tiffany was surprised was an understatement. With the word torture still fresh on her mind, the only thing she could think as she followed Carol June through the hallways of EDEN Command was, thank God for this woman. Despite being older, the judge’s pace was hasty to the point where Tiffany felt she had to speed walk to keep up. To no surprise whatsoever, no sooner had they put some distance between themselves and the hangar, a new pair of guards emerged to flank them. Just the same, this was the freest Tiffany had felt since Northern Forge. She couldn’t help but ask about it. “Why aren’t you afraid of me—”
“Quiet.” June’s word was harsh and abrupt. Sparing the briefest of glances back as she kept up her brisk pace, she added, “Don’t say anything right now.”
“Okie-dokie,” Tiffany answered, the casual response more out of placation than a deliberate attempt to sound casual. She considered clearing her throat and correcting with a proper yes ma’am, but she didn’t want to be smacked in the face with another abrasive command. At this stage, it was better to just be pleased that she wasn’t heading to a torture rack.
Instead of offering words of appreciation, Tiffany spent her time following June and looking about the halls of EDEN Command. It looked like the entire base was part of some underground subway system, with massive, white caverns stretching out in every direction and even a small rail system of sorts sitting in the middle of them. Everyone was wearing clean, white outfits, almost like they were all laboratory workers. It was the cleanest environment she could ever recall seeing. After a long stroll through the halls and a short ride down an elevator, Tiffany found herself being led down a sparsely populated corridor far removed from the busy upper levels. And it was there, in that corridor, that she saw her final destination. It was impossible to miss.
There, standing in front of a single doorway at the far end of the hall, was a small gathering of security personnel. When they saw June approaching, they stepped away from the door and snapped to attention.
“In here, please,” June said, breaking the silence that had lasted the duration of their trek as she gestured toward the door.
Wasting no time, Tiffany did as told, rounding the corner and entering the indicated chamber. Almost to her surprise, she saw that it was nothing more than a guest room. There were wooden dressers, a queen-sized bed, a small kitchen area…everything one might expect from a mid-range hotel. Turning around after she’d gone several paces into the room, she heard June order the guards to seal off the corridor. When she finally stepped inside, a guard with a unique insignia branded on his armor followed her. When the door slid shut behind them, only the three of them were inside.
Tiffany’s anxiety spiked. She could feel her nervousness grow. What was about to take place here?
The hardness in her face relenting, June motioned to a small, round table in the kitchen area. “Please, Miss Feathers, have a seat.” As she spoke, the man behind her pressed several buttons on a control panel by the door, causing the small light built into it to change from green to red.
She was locked inside.
Doing as told, Tiffany shuffled toward the indicated table, offering a somewhat feeble, “Yes ma’am,” as she did. When she sat down and placed her hands atop the table, they began to tremble. June sat directly across from her; the guard took several steps closer before standing firm between them and the door. Reaching up, he removed his helmet, revealing a head of shortly cropped black hair and a full, though neatly trimmed beard. She scrutinized his name tag. Strakhov.
Hold yourself together, Tiffany told herself. If they wanted to torture you, there’d be torture devices. Spike pits, whips, or like…water balloons filled with acid. It was in that moment that Tiffany realized she had no idea what torture devices were.
June clasped her hands on the tabletop as the guard behind her crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Looking down briefly, the judge drew in a breath to speak.
Tiffany beat her to it. “Okay, please, just like, listen to me for one second and I promise it’ll all totally make sense! I know it seems like everything is crazy and we went all rebellion against EDEN and all, but I totally promise there’s something going on that nobody knows about and if I can just tell you about it, it’ll totally make all the sense in the world and you’re not gonna want to kill me, or punch me, or hit me with acid balloons—”
So fast and furious was the velocity of Tiffany’s words, they almost seemed to pack physical force. Eyes wide and leaning back, June lifted both her hands in a gesture to quiet her down.
“Okay, I know, I’ll totally shut up, but God, it’s like, if you could just understand how crazy this is and how crazy everything feels, and how I’m just like, totally stressed to the max—”
“Feathers!” June said, raising her voice more in desperation than anger. “Shut up and calm down.” Behind her, the guard’s eyes were glued to the blabbering blonde.
Pressing her palms to her eyes, Tiffany blew out a breath. “Okay. Calm down. I can calm down.”
“You can calm down,” said June with reassurance.
Her mind was going a mile a minute. There was so much to explain, so much to convey. “I just need someone to listen,” she said quietly, though emphatically. “If you just knew what we were trying to do…”
“I know what you’re trying to do.” June cast a brief glance to the guard before looking at Tiffany again.
Tiffany lowered her hands to make eye contact as June made the statement. “You do?”
Nodding her head, June said, “Yes, I do.” This time, the judge leaned forward. “The same thing we are.”
“The same thing that…?” Eyes narrowing in confusion, Tiffany leaned against the table. “What do you mean?”
Drawing in a deep breath—the same one she seemed to have attempted earlier—June answered, “We have reason to believe there may be a conspiracy taking place at EDEN Command. We’re trying to get to the bottom of it.”
Stunned. Floored. Words couldn’t describe the emotions that were zipping back and forth in Tiffany’s heart. Eyes wide and ears attuned, she waited for June to continue.
“Miss Feathers, the reason you’re in this room is because you may hold key information regarding possible secret collaboration between EDEN judges and the Ceratopian Empire.”
Tiffany slammed her palms against the table. “Oh my God, are you serious?” This was amazing! “Yes! Yes!” Finally, someone she could talk to!
“Feathers,” said June in what sounded like exhaustion, “for the love of…please keep your voice down.”
She wanted to. She knew she needed to. But my goodness, this was everything she’d been begging for. “Okay. Okay.” Deep breaths, in and out. “Okay, I’m listening.”
Clearing her face of mild irritation, June sighed and began again. “For several years now, but particularly in the past several months, a small collection of us have become increasingly suspicious of, for lack of a better way to put it, peculiar coincidences taking place. At times, it’s seemed like the Ceratopians have been reading from our playbook.” The whole while she spoke, the guard behind her watched Tiffany with keen interest. “We changed our response protocols, the Ceratopians responded accordingly. We shuffled whole contingents of soldiers from one base to another, they immediately attacked our weak sides. This has come to a head in recent months when we’ve picked up strange radio signals coming from Ceratopian vessels in high orbit.”
“In high orbit?” asked Tiffany with interest. “I didn’t know we had Ceratopian ships in orbit at all.”
“They’ve shown up just enough to send the radio signals to Earth. They linger for a bit, then they’re gone. We think they’re in direct communication with someone on Earth. We fear it may be someone in EDEN Command.”
Drawing in a sharp breath, Tiffany spat out, “Archer. It’s Benjamin Archer.”
“Benjamin Archer?” June asked, raising an eyebrow. “The judge?”
“Yes! That’s what we were trying to do in Japan. There was a secret recording between him and the Ceratopians—that’s what the Nightmen were trying to get.”
The instant the statement was made, June’s posture went rigid. Her face turned pale. “A recording?”
Nodding her head, Tiffany said, “It was a Ceratopian who made it. His name was H`laar. He’s dead, but his bodyguard is still alive. He helped us, y’know, figure it out.”
Leaning closer across the table, June asked, “Where can we find this bodyguard?”
“The Nightmen have him,” she answered with confidence. “He’s at a base called Northern Forge.” When Tiffany said the words, June inhaled a slow breath. Behind her, the guard named Strakhov cocked his head in confusion. Though their reactions were subtle and seemingly involuntary, they were enough to cause a horrible, horrible feeling to swell in Tiffany’s gut. A feeling that she’d just done something terribly wrong. Instinctively, she lifted her hand to place over her mouth.
“I’ve never heard of such a place,” June said, casting the briefest of sidelong glances in the guard’s direction. Looking at the judge strangely, the guard, too, shook his head. Her focus returned to Tiffany. “Can you tell us where it is?”
Oh no… Tiffany stared doe-eyed at the woman across from her. Her nerves began to rattle.
When Tiffany didn’t answer, June lowered her face just a bit—just enough to look Tiffany straight in the eyes. “The location, Tiffany. We need to know.”
There was nothing she could do. Already, the shimmering in her eyes began. She’d just been played for a fool. For the first time during that conversation, her voice shook. “It’s…” she said, swallowing, “it’s in Moscow.” With her head spinning, it was the only Russian city she could think of.
June scrutinized Tiffany from across the table. Every flaw in the way she’d said it—in the way her voice shook—felt magnified as the judge’s stern eyes pored over her. Tiffany was coming undone.
Eyes narrowing with uncertainty, June asked, “Are you sure it’s in Moscow?”
She couldn’t help it anymore. Tiffany’s cheeks and jaws tightened as the onset of tears began. They knew she was lying.
“Miss Feathers?” June asked. The guard stood erect.
There was no sense playing the game anymore. They knew that she knew. With a throat so constricted it felt suffocating, she murmured the words, “It’s you.”
June looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Stop it,” Tiffany said with conviction. “You can stop it. I’m done.” What a fool she was. What a brain-dead fool. Every off-color remark that she’d heard made about herself manifested all at once in her mind. Airhead. Bimbo. Dumb blonde. She was every single one of them. Tiff, what have you done? For a second time, she’d spilled sensitive beans. But unlike the first, she knew that this time, she’d been wrong.
The probing, inquisitive look remained on Carol June’s face just long enough for it to become clear that Tiffany indeed would not give an answer. Just long enough for the pretense of being a confidant to no longer serve a purpose. When it faded, what replaced it was the coldest of calculated stares Tiffany had ever seen.
Hanging her head, Tiffany closed her eyes. Her listless blond tendrils dangled over her lap.
“I want you to know that I respect you, Miss Feathers,” June said.
She’s still trying. Because she knows I’m dumb enough to fall for it.
“I know what you went through in Philadelphia. The death of your father. He meant so much to you.”
It was as much as Tiffany could take. Though she didn’t sob, the drops of saline still fell, one slow drip after the next.
The judge carried on. “I know how proud he must’ve been of you. You can make him proud again. You can honor his memory by doing more with us now than you ever could have from the cockpit of a Superwolf.” She paused. “Earth is in danger, Tiffany. This Nightman faction—what they’re trying to do—is not noble or good. They are trying to overthrow the organization dedicated to keeping Earth safe from invasion.”
The way June was talking down to Tiffany sickened her. It felt worse that she had reason to.
“There’s no shame in having been fooled by these people. Manipulation is what they do best, and the lies they tell are very, very convincing.”
“I didn’t need convincing,” Tiffany said, lifting her head to glare at the older woman across from her. Through glistening eyes, she said, “It wasn’t the Nightmen who shot down my friends. It was you.” It felt good to use that word. You. For the first time, her anger could be directed right to its source.
Inhaling deeply, June angled her head and said with a touch of warning, “Tiffany…”
“I will never tell you where they are. I will never.”
Ever so slowly, the expression on the judge’s face changed. Her lips curved downward; her eyebrows arched painfully. “Oh, my dear little thing. If only you knew how wrong you are.” Rising from her chair, she beckoned for the guard to approach. “Mister Strakhov.”
Tiffany leapt up from her chair and took a step backward. “I’ll scream. If you touch me, I swear to God, I’ll scream so loud!”
“Okay,” the guard said, his Russian accent thick. “That is fair.” Before she could further react, he charged her and swung the butt of his rifle at her head.
Tiffany scarcely registered her own hand flying up to try and block. Everything went straight into black.