Chapter Seven
Thursday, March 29th, 0012 NE
1020 hours
Sydney, Australia
IT WOULDN’T BE long now. Leaning against the wall in her cell in Sydney, Tiffany closed her eyes and waited for what she knew was inevitable. The young official from EDEN—Jaya—had told her that a trip to EDEN Command was on the horizon. Tiffany thought she’d meant that night. But now it was late morning the next day, her scant breakfast of bacon and eggs was digested, and she had nothing to do but wait to hear that cell door open. It’d been a sound she’d been waiting for with eyes closed for almost two hours. When she finally did hear it, it almost didn’t seem real.
Hazel eyes opening, Tiffany pushed up to her feet as Willoughby, the large, mustached black man observed her from the door. Wearing a dark blue beanie, he looked more like a scruffy, unkempt fisherman than a chief of security. Just the same, there was no mistaking his gravelly Australian voice when he addressed her. “Up and at ’em.”
There was a part of Tiffany that wanted to make a smart aleck comment—to tell Willoughby where to go or where to stick it—but she couldn’t quite conjure the energy. And so with heart gutted and face dour, she lowered her head and simply did as she was told.
“Turn around.”
Tiffany complied as a pair of handcuffs were slapped on her wrists. Staring down at them, she felt an eerie sense of familiarity. What she wouldn’t have given to be back at Novosibirsk with those old cuffs still in place and Travis at her side. At the time, she’d felt as if being attached to Travis was the worst thing in the world. Now she’d have given up anything to be in those shoes again.
To her surprise, she wasn’t pushed ahead forcefully. Willoughby simply said, “Nice and easy,” as he eased her toward the hall leading out of Confinement.
Under normal circumstances, Tiffany would have been fascinated by the prospect of being in a Confinement facility. Each base had one, for which access was reserved exclusively to scientists and higher-ranked officers who were there for specific purposes. She’d heard the outlaws talk about Scott’s ventures into Novosibirsk’s Confinement, which had amazed her at the time. The fact that her first foray into Confinement was as a captive was horribly depressing. She’d always hoped to get a peek into one some day, but she never dreamed it’d be like this.
Willoughby’s grip on her shoulder tightened as they neared the security checkpoint. Smiling at him, a female guard cocked her head and asked, “Shall I have her cell cleaned, captain?”
The captain replied bluntly. “Is that not the SOP?”
Smile quickly fading, the guard said, “Yes, captain, I’m sorry.” As Willoughby led Tiffany through the checkpoint, the guard got on her desk-mounted comm. “Cleaning crew, Yellow-7 is clear.”
Yellow-7. What a cheery sounding name for such a depressing place to lay her head. She barely had time to think about it before she was pushed ahead again, out of Confinement’s entranceway and into the corridors of whatever part of Sydney they were in. As a pair of soldiers walked by, she hung her head in disgrace. There were no feelings left to show—no tears, no fight. She was in a place with no escape. Mustering just enough dignity to lift her head to look ahead, she saw the long hallway from which she’d originally been led in. She remembered the signs on the walls, the fire extinguishers, the office doors and branching corridors. At the far end of the hall would be a left-hand turn that would take her through a set of double doors to the airfield. This walk of shame would be burned into her memory forever. Lowering her eyes again as another gawker walked by, she picked up her pace—just to see if by some chance, Willoughby would allow her to shorten the torture. She fully expected him to slow her back down.
What she didn’t expect was a full stop.
Grabbing her firmly by the shoulder as they passed a hallway to their right, Willoughby yanked her back to him. “Easy does it.”
There was nothing easy about the pull, and though she complied, she found herself turning to look down the corridor they were supposed to be going down. Her eyes squinted in confusion. That was the direction to the airstrip, wasn’t it? She didn’t have time to stare long, as the security chief pushed her down the smaller, right-hand hall.
They didn’t walk far. Stopping at the first door on the left, Willoughby once again grabbed her by the shoulder. Tiffany looked at the unmarked office door. “Hold, now,” the man said, his gruff voice noticeably lower. Tiffany’s nerves swelled as Willoughby looked in both directions as if to see if anyone was watching. Reaching past her, he turned the doorknob and pushed it open. “In. Quick.”
Heart rate increasing, Tiffany did as she was told. The room was dim, lit only by a plug-in construction light in the far corner. The halls were bare sheetrock, and the light panels on the ceiling were completely absent. There was even a ladder and toolbox in the far corner, revealing a room that was clearly still under construction.
On the other side of the room, a pair of figures moved, prompting Tiffany to gasp and slam to a halt. Willoughby closed and locked the door behind them. The figures moved into the light.
It was two men, both slender and with blond hair—one with a crew cut, the other a short ponytail. When they took a step toward her, the panic hit. Stutter-stepping backward, Tiffany spun to do the only natural thing that came to her. Run. Unfortunately, Willoughby was there to stop her. “Whoa, calm down. Away from the door, stay quiet.”
“I don’t—” She was stammering. “Please, I-I don’t want—”
“We just want to talk.”
Chest still heaving, Tiffany locked eyes with Willoughby’s. While there was still a gruffness in his expression, it had softened to a degree. His hands were out in front of him, but he didn’t look so much as if wanted to restrain her as calm her down. “We…?” she asked, exhaling heavily as a confused look came over her. “What?”
He gestured away from the office door and toward the far side of the room. “Please, we don’t have much time.” Though her heart was still pounding, the earnestness in Willoughby’s voice prompted her to obey.
The two blond men followed, each keeping enough distance to avoid threatening her personal space, and each looking at her in a way that seemed more confused than purposeful. Both men were wearing officers’ uniforms—the one with the crew cut a captain and the one with the ponytail a lieutenant.
“Hello, Miss Feathers,” the captain said, his Australian accent thick. “My name is Rex Gabriel, I’m captain of a unit here at Sydney.” He gestured to his counterpart. “And this is Reginald Custer, one of my lieutenants.” The indicated Reginald stared at Tiffany with discerning calculation. “Though we’ve never met you,” Rex said, “my unit and Remington’s have crossed paths in a way I’d describe as significant.”
The instant that context was applied, Tiffany’s eyes widened. Her heart pounded again, but now for an entirely different reason. Were these people here to help?
“I’ll get right to the point,” Rex said. “Remington’s unit saved our lives. The man EDEN is portraying doesn’t sound like the one I met and fought side by side with.”
Willoughby cut in. “Captain Gabriel came to me as soon as you were brought in. Said something smelled fishy. I’m open to hearing whatever it is you have to say.”
To say that she was taken aback was an understatement. This was the last thing she’d expected from anyone there, let alone the security chief who’d been ordering her around since the moment she arrived. What vested interest could he possibly have for hearing her out?
“Look.” Rex pressed his lips together and hesitated. “We just want to hear what you have to say. That’s it.”
“Preferably quickly,” Willoughby said, “before I actually do have to transfer you.”
Quickly. She could do that. Drawing in a breath and then blowing it out, she organized her thoughts. Begin at the beginning and end at the end—that was the way retellings worked. Ready or not, that was what she would give them.
Tiffany proceeded to summarize everything that’d taken place that’d put her in the association of the outlaws. She told them about the arrival of Strom Faerber in Charlie Squad and the mission that’d doomed them. About the EDEN aircraft that’d tried to kill them and the landing party that touched down to finish them off. About her sneaking into the Pariah and having it fly her on autopilot to Novosibirsk. She told them about Travis, and the handcuffs, and the Fourteenth—about Thoor’s interrogation of her as soon as she’d arrived. From Novosibirsk, to Krasnoyarsk, to her commandeering of a Superwolf, the only stone Tiffany left unturned was the precise location of Northern Forge, which she referred to only as a “hidden base somewhere in Russia.” If there was a detail—about the genuineness of Scott’s belief in a conspiracy, about Natalie’s turning outlaw, about the train operation in Atami—she told them about it.
And all the while she spoke, she watched their reactions. They were listening, ears attuned, leaning forward, arms crossed or propped against their chins. There was even an alarmed physical reaction from Reginald when she talked about Natalie—though Tiffany couldn’t imagine why.
When the story was finished, the office was left in silence. All three men stood in front of her, quiet and thoughtful, as she blew out a long, weary breath and then waited for their reaction. Waited to see if they counted anything she’d told them as truth. Thirty seconds into the silence, she was waiting for anything at all. When something finally came, she almost couldn’t believe what she heard.
“Well, pack her up and move her out,” Rex said, his green gaze turning to Willoughby.
“Right.” Reaching for Tiffany again, the large black man grabbed her by the shoulder much in the same manner he’d done when he was moving her through the halls.
Blinking as she was unceremoniously jolted back to captive status, Tiffany could only manage a, “Seriously?”
“Come on now,” said Willoughby, pushing her more forcefully toward the office door. “Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Stumbling forward, Tiffany spun around to face Willoughby as soon as there was some distance between them. “After all that, just this?” On the other side of the room, Reginald sighed and rubbed his hand down his face.
Upon spinning her back around, the security chief prodded her again toward the door. No reply was offered her.
Seething, she said, “Like, I am totally just a fool. I seriously cannot believe this just happened.”
“You can’t believe a prisoner got asked questions by a trio of officers?” Willoughby released her to walk around her for the door.
Tiffany opened her mouth, but no words came out. She didn’t know what to say.
Flapping his hand out nonchalantly, Reginald spoke, the man’s accent purely American. “Come on, guys, give her something.”
“There’s a transport waiting to take you to EDEN Command,” Willoughby said, scowling in irritation when Tiffany quickly backed away from the door.
The Valley Girl shook her head. “No! I will not just accept that you guys heard nothing of what I said. You have to believe me, every word I said was true. This is a conspiracy!”
This time, it was Rex who spoke forcefully. “He’s a lot bigger than you, girlie. I wouldn’t get him mad.”
While not exactly mad, Willoughby did look considerably annoyed. He stormed across the room toward Tiffany to retrieve her. “Come on, let’s go.”
“No!” The blonde was almost tear-stricken. “You have to believe me—I wouldn’t lie to you!”
“Guys,” Reginald said again.
Willoughby grabbed her by the handcuffs and jerked her forward. “Move it, girl.”
“Please,” she cried, tears now rolling down. “You have to believe me. I’m not a liar!”
“Come on, guys, tell her!”
The words were screamed out by Reginald, and they prompted both Willoughby and Rex to turn his way. The ponytailed man was staring back at them, eyebrows lowered with intent. He looked fed up. From behind Tiffany, Willoughby exhaled an exhausted breath.
What in the world was going on?
Finally leaning in from behind her, Willoughby spoke sternly into her ear. “Ignorance is more than just bliss. It could save your life.”
Her brow quirked. “What?”
“What he’s trying to say,” said Rex as he faced her, “is that the less you know—”
“We’re on your side, okay?” said Reginald, cutting off Rex, who glared back at him. “But if we start telling you what we think, EDEN’s gonna torture it out of you. We can’t afford that.”
Willoughby threw his hands up. “That’s fantastic, Custer, well done.”
Torture it out of her? Tiffany’s stomach turned. Torture was supposed to be banned, even for extraterrestrials.
Continuing on, Reginald said, “Here’s what you need to know: we all heard you. Whatever we do from here, you can’t have knowledge of it. Understood?”
She was still stuck on the word torture. But she nodded her head.
Rex and Willoughby were still glaring at Reginald. Exasperated, Reginald pointed toward her. “The girl was terrified. What were we supposed to do, just let her go like that? She looked like she was about to have a heart attack.”
Silence prevailed. As the three men traded narrowed gazes, Tiffany simply stared ahead at nothing. How had things ever come to this? To a place where she was being questioned in a locked room by three men she didn’t know at a base where she was being kept prisoner? This was so surreal, so overwhelming. What the ponytailed one—Reginald—said sounded sincere. But how did she know she could trust it? What if they were trying to glean information from her by capturing her trust? What if this three-way glaring contest was merely their attempt to sell it? Had that woman from EDEN Command, Jaya, gotten to them? Unfortunately, if any of those questions turned out to be the case, her paranoia was too little, too late. She’d already told them everything she knew.
Almost.
They don’t know the location of Northern Forge. If they’re bad, then that’s a good thing. But if they’re good… If they were good, was that something they needed to know? If they knew where to find the outlaws, did that mean they’d help them? Or would they let the rest of EDEN in on it so they could destroy them? Tiffany realized right then that the location of the secret mountain base was either something they absolutely had to know or something they couldn’t know at all costs. And she was the only person who could make that judgment. Tiffany was terrified—and so she did the only thing she knew to do. Not what Scott would do, or what Esther would do, or even what her best friend, Catalina, would do. In all of her bubble-gum innocence, in all of the fear that must have been so evident on her face, she threw stealth and composure to the wind. Turning her hazel gaze upon them and with quivering lips, she said, “Please tell me if you’re all lying to me.” The words barely made it out before her eyes shimmered. “Please. I can’t tell.” So jarring did the words seem to the three men, each one angled their head to peer curiously at her.
Everything about her words was real. The shaky way in which she spoke them, the moist eyes that accompanied them. The nature of the words themselves. But they were also her greatest weapon. Not one of strength, or tactical brilliance, or bravado. It was a weapon of sincere misdirection—an art form the Valley Girl had learned to master. A weapon that screamed, “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not smart enough to understand this. I’m not a threat.” No one feared an adversary who spoke in like’s and totally’s. No one feared a dumb blonde. But occasionally—occasionally—people pitied a scared one. It was deception without deception. Complete self-awareness. Tiffany knew what she was. Sometimes, it was exactly what she needed to be.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Willoughby softened his grip on her shoulder. “Listen…”
Target locked.
“We all have our reasons for this. I have mine, Pelican have theirs.”
Pelican. That must have been the name of Gabriel’s unit.
“If EDEN Command think you know something, they will extract it from you. I know. I used to work there.”
Even in her timidity, that revelation raised Tiffany’s eyebrow.
“I don’t know what to believe when it comes to you,” Willoughby said. “You’re talking about conspiracies, and secret deals, and alien messages. It’s not an easy sell.” The mustached man hesitated. “But I know the circumstances that led to my dismissal, and I know the man who replaced me. It’s all, umm…” Gnawing on his lower lip, he sought for the word. “Suspect.”
Tiffany knew it right then: these people needed to know about Northern Forge.
“And so it’s for that reason,” he said, “that you’re getting the benefit of the doubt from me.” He seemed to reconsider those words as soon as he said them. “‘Benefit of the doubt’ might be too strong a term. You have an audience in me. Let’s just leave it at that.”
She’d take it.
Clearing his throat, Rex cast a sidelong look at the others. Then he said, “You do have the benefit of the doubt from us. EDEN sent some bimbo named Saxena to talk to Reg and I, and she tried to convince us of things we knew weren’t true, because we were there when they happened. She spoke to everyone in our unit who was a part of the missions with Remington. We all came to the same conclusion—that she was selling us untruths. When you arrived here, we knew we needed to talk to you.” After a pause, he exhaled slowly. “And so, now you know our motives. For your own benefit, please don’t ask what we intend to do about them.”
She didn’t need to know what they planned to do. She just needed to know that she could trust them. Now, she did. Turning her body to where she could face all three of them at once, she said, “There’s a mountain range in Norilsk.” When the words came out, her stomach churned with unease. She prayed this was the right decision. “The Nightman base is inside it. They call it Northern Forge. There’s a big metal door on the western side of the range that faces a valley. That’s how we got in.” And now, panic. What if they’d lied? What if they were working with Jaya? The same questions and doubts that’d been there before surfaced again—except this time, she dismissed them. This was the right decision. She just knew.
Rex looked at Reginald briefly before turning his eyes back to Tiffany. “Got it. Thank you for that.”
“Please find them,” she said. “Please help—”
Looking away, Rex cut her off gently. “That’s enough. Let’s not talk further.”
She understood.
For yet another time that morning, Willoughby’s hand went atop Tiffany’s shoulder. “All right, let’s get you moving.”
The walk from the room to the airstrip passed in a blur. In what normally would have been a walk of mounting dread, Tiffany’s mind was now stuck in replay mode, going over her chat with Willoughby and the two Pelicans. Whether they were ultimately telling the truth or not—and she believed strongly that they were—she would never forget them or their names. They were the first and only people to have actually listened to what she was saying.
The security chief offered no words during their entire trek to the airfield, where Jaya and the EDEN Command transport were waiting. Tiffany knew nothing about the spectacled Indian woman besides the fact that she worked at Command, but she despised her just the same.
And so with no fanfare or media present, Tiffany was boarded onto the blacked-out transport and placed in the custody of EDEN Command security, her next stop the heart of the organization she’d dedicated her life to. The same organization that now treated her like the enemy.
For the first time she could ever remember, Tiffany dreaded a flight.