 
RAYNE

By

Roger Schultz

Published by Roger Schultz at Smashwords

Copyright 2015 Roger Schultz

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Front Cover image:

Copyright Roger Schultz, 2015

Thank you Cheyenne for inspiring me to write and to Heidi for naming my character. Also to my sister Vera and brother Robert for all their work editing this book.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the author

CHAPTER 1

The ship's bridge rocked with the impact, throwing her to the hard metal floor. The sound of adults yelling and the voices of a dozen different alarms screamed through her ears until her brain vibrated in her head. The harsh smell of burning electronics filled her nose and lungs as she struggled to breathe and then gagged.

"Rayne! What are you doing up here?" Her mother ran forward, picking her off the floor and securing her in the captain's chair, her father's chair. Her mother's normally happy face was creased in panic and fear.

"I'm sorry, mom." Tears ran freely down her face as her own fear grew exponentially at the sight of her terrified mother. "I was scared." There was a loud bang and the ship began to shudder violently. Her mother clung to the command chair, putting her head to Rayne's ear to be heard over the chaos.

"It'll be okay, baby. It'll be okay." She laid a soft hand on the side of her face. "Remember, I love you," and then her mother was sucked out a gaping hole that suddenly appeared in the command deck. Rayne screamed, her cry swallowed by the rush of atmosphere venting from the ship's broken hull.

***

Captain Gault was career fleet. He'd seen more space than most, but not nearly a half of it by far. At just over six feet tall, he was lean and physically fit. Discipline cut through every fabric of his being with rules and procedures the beacons that determined his course. He had a quiet confidence and intensity that demanded obedience, making a raised voice an unneeded waste of breath. When Captain Gault spoke, you listened and then did as you were ordered. Captain Gault had survived more space engagements than any other officer in the fleet and he definitely knew his business.

The current business was a rescue mission in the Ross 614 star system. At 13.3 light years from earth, the system was just off the major trade route to Procyon. Ross 614 itself was a binary system of little importance. It had only one habitable planet with sparse resources in the outlying moons, meteors, and planets. For this reason, none of the major corporations were willing to invest resources in a system with so little potential.

Despite the sparse resources, there were always those looking to get away from the crowds. Earth's billions had multiplied exponentially in the last five hundred years, filling space with its masses. Finding an undeveloped system within easy reach that had been properly surveyed was becoming less frequent. It would probably remain so until the population could no longer support itself at its current limits. Until then, small groups looking for a better life would continue looking for the next frontier in the known available space. Ross 614 in particular had been the destination for a number of such pioneers over the last ten years. So far, none of the attempted colonizations had taken root, ending in disaster of one type or another.

Navigating space was a difficult prospect at best, even inside the known trade routes. Less traveled space tended to be sparsely mapped and danger from unknowns rose the further away from civilized space the colonies settled. Meteors, comets, micro black holes as well as tricky and unexpected planetary gravity wells or debris clouds were just a few of the unknowns that could end a voyage in a puff of smoke and debris. Ross 614 contained most of these risks. The binary suns played tug of war with many of the celestial bodies in the system. Over the course of millennia, moons had been ripped from planets, planets themselves shifted from their regular orbits, and debris fields formed that made navigation in some parts off the system impossible. Consequently, it wasn't a place you came without your "A" game. And yet, many made the attempt.

Captain Gault's current rescue mission included searching for the most recent lost pioneer group. Another group of Mormons attempting to settle yet another New Jerusalem no doubt. The captain ordered the star ship to full stop just outside the limits of the twirling suns gravity well. The bridge crew snapped to with practiced precision and began scanning the system from its position perpendicular to the orbital plane. Radioactive debris fields were usually the telltale giveaway of a mid-space collision and considering the difficult nature of navigating this particular system, it would be the most likely reason for the pioneer group's disappearance. They would scan for those first and then start a planet by planet survey looking for wreckage. Unless illegally removed, ships of this type let off transponder signals in an emergency, requesting help from anyone in system. Since the system was devoid of inhabitants, the call for help would have gone unheard. If the transponder had been damaged on impact that could explain a lack of signal, although it was unlikely since the equipment was heavily shielded for just that reason.

"Captain?"

The captain walked to the communications console where a young ensign sat with a look of slight confusion on his face.

"Report," Captain Gault ordered, scanning the data console as the ensign worked.

"I've got an emergency signal, sir," the ensign said in surprise.

"So, what's the problem?" An emergency transponder signal should be good news. Procedure dictated the next step would be the launch of a probe to the crash site, followed by a rescue team to retrieve any survivors.

"It's not coming from the pioneer vessel transponder. In fact, it's not coming from any vessel at all."

"If it's not coming from the pioneer vessel, then where's it coming from?" Captain Gault asked.

The ensign took several seconds to double check his readings.

"The point of origin is coming from the fourth planet out, but that's not what's got me confused. The signal type is all wrong. It's not an emergency beacon signal at all, sir. This is a reinforcement request from a T80."

"You can't be serious." Captain Gault replied. "Are you sure the signal isn't originating from one of our own onboard units?"

"Positive, sir. I've checked it twice." The ensign pointed to the display showing the system's fourth planet. "It's coming from this area here, near the equator."

Captain Gault looked at the flashing signal on the display screen. It seemed impossible, but there it was. He had seen this type of signal often enough during combat operations. The T80 had the ability to signal reinforcements or extraction just like any other combat system. But to find it here, in such an unexpected place, was beyond unusual. There were no combat operations in this area and no reason for it to be here. The captain made his decision which, as always, was dictated by procedure.

"Navigation. Bring us into orbit around that rock. When we establish orbit, I want visual confirmation." Foremost in the captain's mind was the possibility of ambush. If something was too good to be true it probably was, and a T80 signal requesting reinforcements was just plain unbelievable.

"Sound the general alert and keep scanning our six. I don't know what's going on here, but I don't want any surprises."

Captain Gault sank back to the command chair to think through procedure and his tactical options. If this was a trap or ambush, there could be an enemy cruiser waiting behind one of the nearby planets or asteroids. He didn't want to be caught flat footed.

The ship made slow headway through the system's debris fields. It would take approximately three hours to make orbit. Even without having to avoid the debris, slipping their ship into orbit would take some doing. Their scouting class vessel didn't turn on a dime like a small fighter, and bringing it to the correct position took precision planning and execution. There was no rushing the process. Coming in too fast could have disastrous consequences, not the least of which was not having enough thrust to stop before slamming into the planet's surface. So, despite the need and desire for haste, they moved at a snail's pace.

***

Rayne ran blindly in terror through the now deserted corridors of the ship. First her mother, now her father was dead, shot before her eyes shortly after their crash landing. The floors were tilted at a steep angle, making running difficult as she dodged and crawled past live electrical feeds and jagged metal debris dangling from ceilings and walls. Gun fire cracked behind her and metal projectiles peppered the bulkhead next to her. The spray of fragmenting bullets cut into her unprotected skin as she ducked into a nearby corridor leading to the cargo bay. She ran as fast as her young legs would carry her, upward toward the partially closed doors. She fought her way through the twisted doors and scanned for an escape or place to hide. She ran back and forth through the mostly empty cargo bay looking, but found nothing. There was nowhere to hide. Most of the crates of supplies had been lost to the atmosphere on their decent and the remaining wreckage left nowhere for a wiry fourteen-year-old girl, except the looming shape in the corner. The one her father had told her never to touch.

It had been anchored to the floor, but the retaining straps had snapped on impact, leaving the battle suit in a slightly disorganized heap in the corner. The letters "T80" were stenciled on the frame, down the side of each heavily armored leg. Normally powered down during shipping and storage, it appeared fully operational, just waiting for its pilot to step in. Rayne didn't ask why. Who cared? It was big, heavy and the only place offering a place to hide.

Rayne jumped inside through the open front, trying to remember what her father had told her about the combat machine. The T80 was designed for an adult of any size, though the ideal pilot was considered to be between one hundred seventy to one hundred eighty-five centimeters. At one hundred seventy centimeters tall, she was a veritable giant of a fourteen-year-old and the T80 was a near perfect fit. The interior was coated with a black bio gel, integrated with the battle suit's functions and systems. Upon contact with human skin, the T80 would launch a 10 second countdown and then seal itself with the pilot inside. She'd actually seen them do it during testing.

The T80 began its countdown as the heavy footsteps came closer, stopping at the cargo bay doors, which were ajar and slightly askew. Sparks danced off hanging wires and Rayne heard nothing for a moment. The counter ticked down to four. The cargo doors were forced open by unseen hands. She lay perfectly still as the counter ticked to three, hoping her lack of movement would conceal her presence in the open T80 frame. The heavy steps moved her direction. Two. Closer. One.

The T80 sealed itself in one smooth movement, the bio gel felt cool as it filled in around her torso, arms and legs. She felt a mild electric charge move through her body and the gel heated to a comfortable body temperature. The battle suit swallowed her, adapted to her size and integrated itself to her form. In an instant, Rayne became aware of so much more around her; not with her eyes, because there were no visual interfaces. She saw the world now as the T80 saw it, in infrared, radar, and a dozen other ways that bypassed the optical nerve and streamed directly to her brain.

Rayne registered a dull thud. The T80 flashed warning they were taking fire. Still terrified, Rayne did the only thing she could think to do. She ran. The T80 barreled right through the firing form, bursting through the broken cargo bay doors and into the corridor. She ran down the incline crashing against the walls like a drunken sailor and out of the ship into a jungle clearing outside in a tangled mess of limbs and flying dirt. Rayne scrambled back to her feet, running for the tree line as automatic rifle fire sounded behind her and projectiles dug into the armor of her legs and back. She crashed to the ground again as the T80 outran her ability to control it. Terrified beyond reason, she clawed her way to her feet again and crashed into the undergrowth.

***

Navigation brought the ship smoothly into orbit around Ross 614's fourth planet. It was like most habitable planets; a little green, a little water and clouds circling the globe as it took its course around the twin twirling suns. They had pulled into a steady orbit on the day side of the equator. Captain Gault circled the large three-dimensional display at the center of the bridge.

"Launch the probe," he commanded, maintaining his cool and calm tone; a towering beacon of discipline. If he got excited, the crew got excited, and he found that people who got excited often got stressed beyond their capacity to think clearly.

The ensign had been waiting for the command and immediately launched the probe, a one-meter ball packed with as many cameras and sensors as could fit in the small space. Used for both science expeditions and military operations, the probes could be launched from high orbit and reach the surface in only twenty minutes. The cameras were active as the probe left the ship and began zooming on to the target area as it began to fall.

Captain Gault watched the display, turning his head slightly to the communications console where the ensign monitored the probe's progress and incoming data streams.

"Make sure you keep one eye on the rest of the system, ensign. Don't get too focused on that probe. "

"Aye, sir," his fingers danced across the console as he checked the other incoming data streams. "All clear so far. I'll keep an eye on it."

As the probe descended into the atmosphere, mountains, rivers and other geographic features began to distinguish themselves. The target area near the equator appeared to be lush and green. It was mostly mountainous jungle environment, but he could see it gave over to open plains that stretched toward the eastern hemisphere until finally running against a large ocean. It was always nice to see land when you'd been in space for an extended period of time as they had.

"Are we still receiving the T80 reinforcement signal?"

"Aye, sir. It's been continuous since first contact. We should be getting close enough in a few minutes to pick up a visual if nothing is obscuring the view. I've marked the target area with the red triangle."

The semblance of order on the bridge was broken by a surprised curse from the ensign.

"Did you see that?" he asked, jerking back from the console as if he'd been shocked. Some of the other bridge personnel craned their necks to take a peak.

"Get a hold of yourself, ensign," Captain Gault said quietly. He was less than pleased by the lapse in discipline. The junior officer returned to his seat quickly, looking properly chastened. "What have you got?"

He pointed to the area within the triangle.

"A large explosion coming directly from the signal's point of origin, sir."

"Let me see the play back." Captain Gault walked over to the bridge screen and watched the image replay. Even with the zoom on high power, it was still hard to pick out any detail. As he looked, an explosive blast lit the screen; flashing blue as it pushed outward and then collapsing back into itself without a sound. It wasn't a conventional blast. Those were typically recognized by the orange plume of flame and smoke they produced. No, this was something else. Something he had seen often during his combat career. It was a high energy detonation from an overcharged pulse canon or similar weapon. The captain's heart skipped a beat. This could really be a T80. But how did it get here?

"Ensign. Give me the live feed again." The image shifted. During the minutes they had been reviewing the other video feed, the probe had reached an altitude of two thousand meters and hovered. The probe was tracking the signal, but the viewing area showed nothing but the tops of the jungle trees. "That's not showing anything useful, what else have you got?"

"Try this one. It picks up on any metal objects and I've overlaid it with infrared. If it's really a T80, it should show up bright as day in this environment. The organics will be muted to gray, metal will show as white, and anything with a heat signature will be red."

Captain Gault stood before the large view screen, stunned. There it was, in black and white; a T80 battle suit being piloted through the jungle on a planet it had no business being on. Taking a closer look, he noted something odd about the way it moved. He'd seen and worked with T80s for much of his career. He was familiar with them and had several currently on board. This one was not moving right and appeared damaged. The data feed tracking its speed showed it moving at only thirty kilometers per hour; slow for a T80. The other thing he noticed were tiny balls of light tracking toward its position like horizontally falling rain.

"Ensign. Zoom the image out. I want to see everything within a square kilometer." The image shrunk as the view of the surrounding area expanded. Captain Gault frowned and turned to the crew. "Full alert, gentlemen. Get those marines in the hold suited up. I want them on the ground in no less than thirty minutes."

***

Sgt. Mike Weber reclined against the steel bulkhead of the weapons bay, watching his fire teams. Some played cards, some cleaned gear, while others slept. Like Fleet Marines had done for hundreds of years, they stood ready to jump into action. Until then, they passed the time any way they could. More often than not the wait was for nothing, which for any marine was just about the most irritating thing possible. Marines were born to fight and when they didn't get to fight, they got pissy. The last four times they'd been put on alert, it had been cancelled after hours of expectant waiting. This time didn't seem any different.

The reports they'd been given so far said they were headed to rescue some idiot pioneers. Their emergency beacon had apparently been sounding off on one of the system's habitable planets. A rescue mission wasn't as good as combat, but they'd take what they could get. If they were lucky, maybe they'd get attacked by some local aborigines or something.

Mike looked across the deck to where their T80s sat, looking empty and lifeless. He longed to suit up for a fight. There was no bigger rush than going to war in the two and a half meter killing machine. He'd been deployed in two different military actions in the eight years he'd been a marine. Both times were as a T80 pilot. This duty assignment though, sucked rocks. Long waits with very little to do but clean, polish and wait.

They'd been on alert now for several hours. Any moment, he expected to hear the "stand down" order. He got up, stretching his lean, muscled frame. At one hundred and eighty-three centimeters tall and eighty-two kilograms, he was the ideal size and height for a T80 pilot. His dark hair was regulation buzz cut and he was clean shaven. He sported a few tattoos, standard for any marine but not overdone to make him look like a freak. The military frowned on the defacing of what they considered government property.

Mike walked over to the intel officer standing at the weapons bay's data console.

"Any updates?"

"Nothing new since the last time you asked five minutes ago," the intel officer replied, giving him a wry grin.

"Kiss my ass," he countered. Intel weenies annoyed him, but Jensen wasn't half bad. The problem with intelligence was that it wasn't always intelligent. They always missed some vital piece of information or just plain got it wrong and then it fell to him to make it work anyway. Some intel officers, got pissy when you pointed out the errors in their data. Jensen at least had the good grace to say, "Sorry". Unlike some, he seemed to get the score. Bad intel could get good marines killed. Partial intel could get you the same.

Mike turned to walk over to take a hand at cards hoping to keep his mind from stewing about the lack of action.

"Sergeant!" Jensen shouted as Mike walked away. "We got a green light for a combat op. The captain wants you guys suited up and planet side in thirty minutes."

Mike turned back, adrenaline already pumping.

"Are you serious?"

"Deck operations says there is a friendly, planet-side in heavy contact with an unknown force. That's all I got so far." The intel officer looked up and smiled. "Go get some, Sarge."

Mike smiled widely, turning back toward his squad.

"Everyone suit up! We got a combat op." The marines jumped up with excited shouts and ran for their T80s. This is what they lived for and it had been a while since any of them had really lived.

"Any details Sarge?" One of the squad asked as they armored up.

"We got a friendly in heavy contact with an unknown enemy force. That's all we got so far." Mike jumped into his combat suit and it sealed smoothly as it powered up. Comms connected immediately and he checked the status of the members in his squad. Everyone checked ready.

"Form up at the airlock everyone. You know the drill." They stacked up in the airlock and the heavy door closed behind them. "Everyone sound off!"

"Nine!" "Eight!" Each marine sounded out their number in turn. No stupid call signs for marines. Leave that to the pansy fly boys. Normally, a squad would consist of three fire teams, but a ship this size couldn't fit that many T80s in the weapons bay. So, he was left with only two; but two fire teams equipped with T80s were enough to handle most problems.

"One!" Mike popped the outer door lock with his metal fist. Space gaped before them. Billions of stars dotted the horizon and the twin stars danced slowly in the distance. Mike ignored the view as he let his body fall forward out the open door. Eight other T80s followed like dominoes. They fell quickly and the ship shrunk to nothing in the pitch black of space. He checked the status of each of his squad. All were clear as they continued to fall planet side in total silence.

"One, this is Mother on Tac1. I've got an update for you. You're not going to believe it." Jensen's voice came through crystal clear, if only a little tinny, over the encrypted comm link.

"What do you got for us?" Mike concentrated to maintain his attitude as he continued his descent from orbit. The T80 did not have systems for attitude control during orbital freefalls. The pilot had to maintain the proper orientation himself, which was difficult with no atmosphere to speak of. A moment's inattention could send the T80 into a spin and tangle of limbs that would be nearly impossible to recover from.

"Deck operations reports the friendly in contact on the ground is a solo T80. No idea how it got there, but whoever it is, they're severely outnumbered and taking heavy fire."

Mike wobbled slightly in surprise and then quickly straightened out.

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack, Sarge. You better be ready for a fight, too. We're estimating over one thousand hostiles." Jensen was trying to keep a cool head, but Mike could tell he was worried.

"Has he established comms?"

"Our guy isn't broadcasting shit. All we're getting is the automated reinforcement request."

"What do we have for terrain?"

"Most of this area is hilly jungle shit, but it gives way to open plains to the east. Based on the T80's current route, he'll be coming out of the jungle about the time you make landfall."

"Any intel on the kind of weapons we'll be coming up against?" Outnumbered as they were, they'd be walking into a metal shredder if they were outgunned as well.

"Small arms the best we can tell. I haven't seen evidence of anything heavy and the terrain's no good for tanks or other armor."

"Got it, Jensen. Thanks." Thank god for small favors. They'd be hard pressed against that many hostiles, even with the advantage in fire power. A thought occurred to him. "Hey, Jensen, how long has this guy been in contact with the enemy?"

"The request for reinforcements came almost as soon as we came in system. So, about three hours."

Mike swore. "This guy's been in contact with a force that large for three hours and he's still alive? He's got to have balls the size of bowling balls."

"Maybe he'll let you touch them if you're nice." Jensen replied.

"I'll say please, for sure." Mike passed the intel to the squad. "I want standard hot landfall. Pop the brakes at six thousand meters, deploy the chutes at one thousand, form up and we'll drop in on these bastards on my signal."

Turbulence started as they began to hit the atmosphere. They still had a good twenty minutes of descent left before they'd be on the ground and engaging the enemy. Mike only hoped they'd make it in time to rescue the lone T80.

***

For three years Rayne hadn't seen with her own eyes, heard with her own ears, felt the touch of her own skin or the sun on her face. She was no longer sure what it felt like to be human. She was not just in a machine, she had become the machine. There was no longer a boundary between where it began and she ended.

She had been in complete shock after watching her mother and father die. In the subsequent weeks and months there had been no time to mourn as she ran for her life. Three years later, it was too late for grief. She couldn't cry even if the urge had taken her. Locked as she was in the T80, crying was impossible. All body fluids were immediately absorbed and the healing powers of a good cry were completely beyond her. But she could hate, and the hate filled her world. It gave her purpose. It gave her focus. It turned a fourteen-year-old, little slip of a girl into a killing machine.

First, they had come in four-man groups. She killed them. They had set ambushes. She killed them. They had come in large forces. She killed them. They chased her from one end of the planet to the other and she'd killed them all.

Rayne burst from the trees as fast as her tired legs would carry her, the damaged leg joint on the T80 slowing her considerably. She came to a stuttered stop and looked across the flat grassy plain with grim resignation. It would have been a spectacular view under normal circumstances. The tall grass waved gently in a light breeze. The twin suns sat low on the horizon and turned the few clouds a pretty color of orange. She raised her head to the sky, pretending she could the feel the warmth of the sun and the wind on her face. She stood in this attitude for several seconds, watching a falling star overhead. Appropriate, she thought, and turned to face the jungle. This was as good a place to die as any.

Rayne didn't wait for her enemy to come to her. She wouldn't be a stationary target caught standing in the open. She rushed the jungle's edge and caught her attackers just as they exited the tree line with the suns at her back. Expecting a continued chase over flat open ground, the enemy was caught by surprise as Rayne waded into their middle just as they burst through the trees. She fired point black at the roiling mass of targets, cutting a swath of destruction. Rayne kept moving as she fired almost continuously, trying not to go down under the ocean of bodies rushing to meet her. The gun heated to dangerous levels as she gave way under the onslaught of death pushing its way relentlessly toward her. Her left arm fell dead at her side as she struggled to maintain her footing, but went down under the tidal wave of enemies. She screamed in rage and tried to kick, roll and tear her way free. Her weapons stopped working, either overheated or depleted. It didn't really matter which. She was going to die anyway, but not without a fight. Rayne kept pounding at anything she could get her hands on, moving and striking as much as the damaged battle suit would let her. One moment she was up and the next she was down, kicking and rolling and trying to fight her way free again.

***

Captain Gault stood at attention before the view screen. The marines had launched just minutes after he'd given the order, but looking at the progressing battle before him, he wasn't sure whether it was too little too late. The bird's eye view from the probe gave a perfect window seat. He watched the T80 crash through the jungle as the enemy force gained ground. It was obvious the pilot was running out of strength. His speed had dropped even further and there appeared to be no chance he would be able to make his escape on the open plain. More than likely, it would turn into a killing field. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. The marines were still ten minutes out. An eternity in combat. This engagement could very well be finished in five.

The T80 broke from the trees and stopped. It paused for several seconds and then turned to face the tree line. Captain Gault wasn't surprised. He could see the tactical situation from orbit was untenable. The choices were simple. Die running or die fighting. He'd seen this choice made many times during his career. Heroes were the ones who turned to face the enemy and died standing. He bowed his head briefly, wished him god speed, and then looked up to watch the end.

The probe was still unable to pick up the enemy on any visual range. But infrared scans showed a thousand enemy contacts bursting from the tree line and the T80 stepping in to meet them with guns blazing. It quickly went down under the sheer number of enemy combatants and he thought it was finished. But the T80 came back up, shooting and fighting for everything he was worth. He went down again under a mob of attackers, but fought his way to his feet again. He moved and rolled, kicked, punched and slashed and went down again and again only to fight his way to his feet once more.

Captain Gault had rarely seen that kind of fight out of anyone under his command and desperately wanted to see the man survive. He spoke, keeping his eyes on the display.

"Comms. Inform Sgt. Weber the situation is desperate and if he doesn't get the job done in the next few seconds there won't be anyone to rescue. Tell him to get creative if he has to." He turned back to the screen and hoped.

***

Sgt. Weber and his team had just hit the air brakes at six thousand meters. The momentary deceleration slamming into his body and taking his breath away. He had just gotten the update from the captain on the desperate battle happening below. Following procedure, it didn't sound like they'd get there in time. The captain had said get creative though, so that meant to hell with procedure and go kick some alien ass.

"Two, Three. You guys up for some insane shit that will probably get you killed?"

"Hell, yeah, Sarge." They replied together.

"I want you to overcharge your laser canons and drop with the air brakes all the way into the kill zone. Set them off as you hit the ground. You'll be out of the fight for the duration, but we'll cover you as we come in." The T80s were tough, but not indestructible. A fall at that velocity was going to do some damage and possibly cause death to the two pilots, but there was a high probability they'd survive with only a few broken bones. Broken bones healed, death didn't, but any marine worth a damn would risk death to save a fellow.

"We got this!" said Two.

"This is gonna be an awesome story if we survive it," added Three.

"Might even get your ugly ass laid," one of the others chimed in.

"Give'em hell marines!" Mike and the rest of the squad pulled their chutes as they hit one thousand meters, while Two and Three hurtled to the ground.

***

Rayne went down for what she guessed would be the last time. She was so exhausted she couldn't think straight. She couldn't feel her arms or legs and she gasped for air like a drowning swimmer. As she fell, an enormous explosion rocked the ground. The force of the blast wave lifted her off the ground, throwing her fifty meters back into the grassy plain. She barely held on to consciousness as she struggled to stand, only making it to her hands and knees. She was shocked to see a two-hundred-meter area near the tree line had been cleared. Green goo coated everything. The once waving golden grasses now lay flat and green with two crumpled figures laying in the epicenter of the blast zone.

Rayne couldn't process what she saw before her. It was as if she was standing outside herself looking down, but with double vision. Those were T80s on the ground, lifeless and unmoving. She shook herself and began crawling forward on her one good hand and knee; dragging the other useless appendages behind her. She could see the enemy massing at the tree line preparing for another attack. Rayne had no idea where the T80s had come from, but she wasn't going to abandon them. If they were already dead, she would do the honor of dying with them. If they were still alive, she'd protect them for as long as she could. She reached their position just as the enemy broke from the trees. Her weapons had come back on line, but there wasn't much left and certainly not enough to fend off the coming assault.

Rayne didn't care, though. She had resigned herself to the fact that she would die alone. Now, here before her, were two other people just like her. And she would die knowing someone had tried to save her. Rayne struggled forward to protect the prostrate forms.

***

Captain Gault watched in silent pride. Sgt. Weber's team had pulled a highly risky maneuver. Definitely not according to procedure, but he had told sergeant to get creative. The two-hundred-meter area they had cleared would give the rest of Sgt. Weber's team a chance to get in the fight.

But that's not what made the captain's chest swell with pride. The sight of the lone T80 dragging himself to the two downed marines and taking a defensive position was as heroic an act a he'd ever seen. There was absolutely no quit in that marine. Captain Gault prayed he made it.

***

What remained of the two squads hit the ground running as the enemy attacked en mass from the tree line. They had landed one hundred meters behind their downed comrades and the lone T80. They moved forward at top speed and quickly closed the distance, alternately firing laser cannon and mini guns. Eight and Nine hung back while the others provided covering fire. They began lobbing plasma grenades into the enemy ranks. Explosive concussions rocked the trees and blew enemy combatants in all directions. Seven guns roared their fury in concert. Laser cannons flashed in the quickly gathering darkness as the twin suns dipped below the horizon. Muzzles flashed from the tree line, but nothing made it across the grassy plain without meeting immediate death.

It was an hour before silence fell.

***

Rayne had lost the power to stand, both in her body and the T80's as well. Her power was down to nearly zero and the entire system had shut down to recharge. She watched numbly as seven additional T80s stepped to her side and defended her position. She was physically and emotionally spent.

Rayne fell backward onto the grass, watching the flashing lights from the laser canons and guns. It was beautiful in a way. The flashes lit the shadows with bursts of color. Like fireworks on a festival day. She could barely remember the last festival she'd gone to with her parents. What was she, seven? They'd had a circus with all kinds of different and exotic animals. Dancing. There was lots of dancing and lots of people. The fireworks had been her favorite. They'd sat on the big open green on a large blanket and watched the fireworks bursting in all different colors in the air. She'd liked best the blue ones that fell from the sky like curly cues. She remembered falling asleep in her father's lap before the end.

What a nice memory, she thought. Rayne stared into the sky and daydreamed of a different life as the bursting roar of the guns and thump of grenades slowly lulled her into a deep and soundless sleep.

CHAPTER 2

Mike sat tired but happy at the head of the heavy troop transport as it made its way back to the ship. The hour-long firefight had been awesome and he'd be riding the adrenaline high for weeks. Two and Three had suffered a couple of broken bones and concussions, but would be back to full duty as soon as they were healed. Their T80s would need some major repairs. The high velocity impact into the ground had busted up some of the joints and damaged internal systems. They were currently resting at the rear of the transport with their pilots sedated inside.

Mike cast a worried glance at the lone T80 they had just rescued. He'd never seen one so badly damaged and the pilot survive. One knee joint was seized and the right arm swung uselessly as they'd carried him on board. Nearly the entire surface was pitted and scarred from who only knew how many engagements; some of them so deep to have nearly breached the inner, more sensitive layers. The entire unit was going to be a total loss.

Scans had shown the pilot was alive, but he had yet to make any attempt at communication on either secure or non-secure channels. He was most likely unconscious considering the circumstances. A medic and technician worked over the still figure, attempting to connect data and support feeds into the damaged suit's connectors. They'd had to cut the access door off using a plasma torch because of the extensive damage. Once connected, they were able to start downloading data and give the pilot much needed fluids and nutrients. While the T80 had been able to feed and water its pilot during combat, he was still going to be very much in need of both. Extended combat sucked a lot out of guy.

"Not good," said the med-tech as he scanned the suit's data stream.

"What?" Mike moved closer to get a better look. "What's the matter?"

The med-tech turned the portable screen for him to see. "This guy's been operational for three years without stop," he explained with a look of incredulity.

"I didn't know that was even possible," Mike replied. He knew the T80 was designed for combat operations for up to one month and he'd heard of soldiers going for as long as three, but three years seemed impossible.

"It's definitely outside the manufacturer warranty," the med-tech joked. "I'm not sure what kind of consequences that will have for the pilot. We're going to have to cut him out of the suit, but the bio foam may have fused with the skin. I'm just not sure how we'll deal with that. Hopefully the brainiacs upstairs have something for this."

A low whistle came from the other med-tech. "No way. Check this out."

"What?" Mike asked. He stepped over to where the other tech was standing and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened. "Are you sure that's correct?"

"Look at the suit, Sarge. What do you think?"

Mike had rarely seen kill totals that high. It took most pilots multiple deployments in large engagements to post those kinds of numbers. They were easily four times higher than anyone on his squad. Mike, who already had a great deal of respect for the guy that'd gone to the aid of his downed marines, felt that respect grow to something akin to hero worship.

"This guy is a god among men for sure." The med-techs laughed. Mike laughed with them, but wasn't entirely sure he didn't mean it.

***

Mike supervised the unloading of his injured marines and lone T80 to the medical bay. He'd already stepped from his own unit and was still wearing his under suit; a black form fitting and fire-resistant material that highlighted his cut figure. It also made him feel naked, but seeing to his marines was more important than his own personal comfort.

A swarm of med-techs and doctors pushed him aside and began working. Two and Three, or Jackson and Lena, were carefully extracted from their suits and placed on gurneys. Broken bones were set and additional meds administered through I.V.'s.

The lone T80 was a different story. A group of doctors and med-techs stood around the still figure, consulting. The data and bio feeds had been hooked to the ship's main systems and everyone was going over the data streams. Each combat vessel had a full medic bay. Like most medical facilities, everything was white and sterile. Unlike most medical facilities, it had as much in common with a mechanic shop as it did with an operating room. Anti-gravity lifts and tool boxes were necessary implements when it came to extracting the red creamy center of a T80 battle suit damaged in combat.

Mike walked over to the lead doctor as the group began to disperse to their various assigned tasks; the consultation apparently over. Mike was a little confused they weren't making any attempts to free the pilot currently trapped inside.

"What gives, Doc? You gonna leave him in there?"

Doctor Little looked up from his data pad.

"Hey, Mike."

The doctor was in his late thirties. He had a lean build and Irish red hair, but none of the accent. He wore wire rimmed glasses and generally had a very personable approach to his doctoring. The glasses were an odd touch. Most people preferred the retinal lenses. Regardless, they were packed with the latest tech; allowing the doctor to make quick medical assessments at a glance. Mike had been to the med bay many times over the years to get sewn up. Most doctors were arrogant pricks, but Doctor Little was alright.

"I'm afraid so. At least until we can get to a bigger facility with more equipment than what we have available here. Proycon probably. That will be the nearest naval facility with the kind of equipment we're going to need. In the meantime, we'll monitor vitals and keep her sedated."

"I thought you were a full-service, one stop shop, Doc?" With the lifts, plasma torches and other assorted tools and specialized equipment the medic bay was equipped to do everything up to and including emergency extractions.

"This is going to involve a little more than just cutting her from the suit, I'm afraid." Doctor Little set his data pad down and cleaned his glasses. Setting them back on his face, he continued. "Our unknown pilot here has been operational for three continuous years. The scans show no physical damage, but we're getting some weird readings at the cellular level. We're also worried the bio gel has fused with the skin and we'll need to work some specialized treatment or procedure to separate her from the suit's gel lining."

Mike's head cocked to the side curiously. "Did you say 'her'?"

"Yes, Mike, her. Do you need me to draw you a picture?" The doc smiled at Mike and the goofy expression on his face. "Something the matter?"

"Well...no, Doc. It's just...you know. I figured with those kind of kill totals I'd be seeing some hulking God of Thunder step from the suit or something." Mike scratched the back of his stubbled head. "I'm not gonna lie, Doc. I think my ego just shrunk a couple of sizes." He'd known plenty of female combat pilots. Good ones too, but even over the course of five hundred years of human evolution the male ego had a hard time accepting the fact that a female could outdo man in combat.

"I'm sure we'll all be better off because of it," said the doctor as he patted Mike's shoulder and walked away.

***

Captain Gault sat at his desk scanning through Sgt. Weber's combat report. All things considered, they had come out pretty well. The sergeant's creative thinking had definitely saved the day, allowing for the rescue of the lone T80. The two marines injured by the dare devil stunt had survived and would be back to full duty in a matter of weeks, if not sooner. That was fortunate for everyone involved. The clear deviation from procedure and safety protocols resulting in the death of marines would likely have meant court martial and demotion for the sergeant and him both. Risks were sometimes necessary in battle, but those sitting on the side lines with months to scrutinize your split-second decisions didn't always agree. As it was, he would probably take some heat for it, but ultimately come out on top and commended for a successful operation.

The hostiles had been identified as raiders from Tau Ceti, who were using the system as a base of operations. Ross 614's close proximity to shipping lanes, combined with its lack of resources to attract potential corporations looking for profit, made it the prime location. The raiders had a mishmash collection of ships stolen and modified for combat. Using these modern-day pirate ships, they'd sneak into the shipping lanes, hit an unprotected freighter and then run back to their hole. Any ships who strayed too close to their hiding place, found themselves floating in space with the wreckage of their ship. A survey of the area had located the wreckage of a number of vessels, including the pioneer ship they'd originally been searching for.

One of the crash sites had been located on Ross 614's fourth planet where the T80 had been located. The crashed vessel had been identified as a cargo vessel delivering military hardware to the Procyon naval test facility three years ago. That explained the presence of the T80.

As for the remaining raiders, it appeared most of them had been wiped out. A few had made a hasty exit from the dark side of the planet as they'd made orbit, but the others had been so intent on tracking the T80 they hadn't noticed their arrival.

Yes. He'd definitely get a pat on the back for this one. The recovered T80 pilot was a concern, however. Med-tech had been unable to extract the pilot with the current resources at their disposal. As a result, "she" remained sedated in the med-bay, trapped in a ton of steel armored plating, tubes and wires.

Captain Gault wasn't the least bit surprised by the woman's kill rating. He'd known and worked with many women during his career. Most all were competent professionals he'd stack up against any male counterpart. But some of them stood head and shoulders above everyone. One such woman happened to be his ex-wife. She was currently one of the top doctors in her field and fortunately for him, on the far side of human populated space. If he could get any further away, he would. She had a razor-sharp intellect that would cut through any argument, no matter how thick, and managed to get her way almost without exception. There was no battle she couldn't win and no goal she couldn't achieve once she set her mind to it. He pitied anyone fool enough to go up against her. For his part, he'd chosen tactical retreat.

They were now en route to the Procyon Naval Station for repairs and refueling. It was a large station serving fleet operations for all systems in the area. There were no habitable planets in the system because of the less than ideal gravitational forces at play between the Procyon sun and its little dwarf brother. What it did provide, however, was a centralized location for operations and an abundance of resources for refueling and refitting.

His ship's complement of T80s could be repaired on board, but their rescued pilot was going to need some specialized attention they couldn't provide. The ship had been on this tour of duty for six months and were due for refueling and refit anyway. The crew could use the break. Months on the same ship tended to do funny things to people and even if they were trading time in one floating space rock for another, it was still a nice change of scenery.

***

Mike's squad was taking down time in the rec room. Jackson and Lena had been released from medical a short time earlier and they were swapping stories along with the others to see what they had missed. The rec room was a shared space with the rest of the ship's crew, so personnel from other ship sections were also sitting around. Some listened to the marines tell their tall tales while others distracted themselves with games, video feeds, or whatever struck their fancy.

Jackson and Lena displayed their casts proudly for everyone's inspection. The rigid latticed structures kept the broken bones immobile while still allowing air to circulate through. They'd been given bone growth injections that would speed the heeling process, but it would still be some time before they were back to full duty. In the meantime, they enjoyed their popularity and regaled the younger crew members with their stories. Some of it was actually true.

Mike walked in as they were finishing their most recent tale to a small group of young cadets on their first tour. Somehow, the story of their heroic fall had evolved to include rabid monkeys and pretty girls. He wouldn't have minded the latter of the two. It had been a while since he'd been around a pretty girl. Lena didn't count, nor did the other two women in his squad who were completely off limits as soldiers under his command. Most of the other women on the ship didn't seem interested in hanging with the marine sergeant and instead found other less worthy male (or female) specimens to spend their time with.

He took a side chair as the group of young cadets burst out laughing and began walking away in search of other entertainment.

"You guys are so full of shit," he said, taking one of the recently vacated seats.

They both smiled back.

"What's a good story if you can't add a little color, Sarge?" replied Jackson.

"Besides, we were out of most of it. Had to fill in the blanks with somethin'," Lena added.

Mike kicked his feet up on the low table.

"The pretty girls were a nice addition, but I'm not so sure about the rabid monkeys. What were you going for on that one, cute and scary rolled into one?" The rest of the squad circled up, eager for some additional information on their rescued pilot.

"We heard our pilot is a chika. That true?" Lena asked.

Jackson spoke before Mike could reply.

"Jensen said you wanted to touch her balls after you found out what her kill totals were. I guess you're going to have to re-think that request now." He laughed and the rest of the squad joined in; adding their own more colorful suggestions.

"Shut up, ass wipes. In my defense, I wanted to touch her balls before I heard her kill totals. Was even planning to say, please." Everyone laughed. Jensen would be paying for that later. Until he hatched a suitable plot, he shared with the team what he knew about the rescued pilot.

"What we've been able to piece together so far is that three years ago a military freighter crash landed on the system. The T80 was a prototype and one of the items being shipped. We're guessing one of the techs or crew members jumped inside before or after the crash to survive. There weren't any military people on the freighter, so that's our best guess, but based on the kill totals she racked up over those three years, we're guessing ex-military, Special Forces. As far as the hostiles we encountered, they were raiders from Tau Ceti using Ross 614 as a base of operations. We wiped out what was left planet side and the rest ran like a bunch of raped apes out the back door."

"So what's next, Sarge? We gonna go find someone else to rescue? How about a pretty damsel in distress this time?" Taft was a twenty-five-year-old marine that had been in the squad for three months. At number Nine, he was the junior member of the team and a little awkward with the ladies. That didn't stop him from trying though. Mike was pretty sure he'd made a pass at every female on the ship, including Lena. She had laughed at him and told him if he could do more pull ups than her, she'd do him right on the weapons bay floor. He'd fallen exhausted to the floor after fifteen, while Lena kept going, finally stopping at thirty out of boredom. Taft never made another pass.

"Next is a little R&R at Procyon while they figure out how to get our rescued pilot out of her T80." Everyone cheered. They'd been cooped up in the ship for too long and were ready for a break. They were also eager to meet the woman they'd just rescued. Kill totals were a T80 pilot's status. The more kills the more status. The unknown woman's kill totals put her in the "Legendary" category and they all wanted to meet her. Even touch her balls if she had any.

CHAPTER 3

Rayne floated without thought. Occasional memories flitted past her unseeing eyes. She grabbed for them, but they eluded her grasp. Like butterflies. Rayne liked butterflies. The thought caught in her mind and she stopped drifting. She remembered blue butterflies. She chased a single blue butterfly across the inky expanse of space. She chased it past spinning stars and pulsing supernovas. She chased it through brightly painted nebulas. She jumped from planet to planet like crossing a stream over rocks, following the butterfly as it danced through her fingers. She chased it through white billowing clouds, across a blue sparkling ocean and onto an endless plain.

The white dress she wore billowed around her knees. The long grass moved with a gentle wind and tickled her legs. She stopped and let the butterfly go. Twin suns dipped toward the horizon, turning the passing clouds a pretty orange. She closed her eyes and tilted her head toward the suns. She swayed with the moving grass and smiled as the suns warmed her face and felt the wind's gentle touch on her skin.

She stood enjoying the life flowing around her until she felt a sense of foreboding and a shadow fell across her face. Rayne turned and faced a towering jungle. The tops of the trees stretched to staggering heights, looming forward in the gathering shadows as first one and then the other sun sank out of sight. She backed slowly away keeping a close eye on the shadows, not willing to simply turn and run and expose her back to the enemies within. Eyes flashed from the darkness. First one set and then another. Hundreds of yellow slit pupils stared from the darkness. Rayne continued to back away as fear gripped her chest and threatened to send her screaming across the plain. A clawed foot stepped from the jungle, followed by a sleek four-legged predator's body. Heavy muscles rippled under smooth black skin and its heavy tailed whipped from side to side. It lowered a black skeletal head and locked yellow eyes on Rayne's. She stopped. Ninety-nine other sleek black predators with blazing yellow eyes stepped from the jungle.

Rayne pushed the fear down, anger clawing its way the surface. She would not die afraid and hunted like prey. She took deep heavy breaths, her hands clenched into fists. Rayne screamed her rage and defiance and charged to meet her nightmare.

Rayne floated without thought. Occasional memories flitted past her unseeing eyes. She grabbed for them, but they eluded her grasp. Like butterflies. Rayne liked butterflies...

***

A small female figure lay on the Procyon Naval Station's med-tech table. Her head was bald and the remaining parts of her body that were visible were devoid of hair as well. The white hospital gown stretched to her knees leaving her forearms and legs bare. Her skin was a startling ebony and shined like obsidian under the harsh glare of the room's lights, while the muscles underneath were lean and toned like a dancer's. She was young. Sixteen to eighteen according to the medical chart. Whether she was pretty or not was hard to tell in her current condition. An oxygen mask gripped her nose, mouth and chin. Electrodes snaked from her head at several points sending a continuous stream of data to the nearby bank of monitors. I.V.s and feeding tubes latched onto her arms and dangled like hanging vines to a jungle tree.

The remains of the T80 had long since been hauled away. Cut piece by piece from the small figure on the table, the suit was now no more than a slagged heap of metal waiting for recycling. The process had taken days and meticulous, painstaking work as doctors and med-techs pulled black bio gel coatings from sensitive human skin. Bio gel was programmable to a certain extent and it could be made to move and act in the needed fashion, but when it became bonded to human skin, removing it took special chemicals and tools. While the removal had been successful, the new coloring suggested a deeper integration. Whether it would be permanent only time could tell.

Removing the battle suit had been a difficult task, but not the only one needing done. The young girl's extended use of the T80 had prevented her from using eyes, ears, voice and digestive system. The eyes and others would adjust with time, but the digestive system would need some assistance. That work was now in its last stages and they would soon be preparing to bring the patient back to the real world.

***

Mike stood outside the young girl's room, with Jackson and Lena. He'd not been able to stay after initially arriving with the rescued pilot. The R&R had been cancelled for another rescue mission at a nearby mining colony and he and the rest of the squad, minus Jackson and Lena, had been shipped off. He'd arrived back earlier that day after their four-week stint and was now staring dumbfounded at their rescued pilot.

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" Mike asked Jackson and Lena. He double checked some of the nearby med-tech rooms and found them all empty on this wing.

"I'm sure, Sarge." Jackson looked at Lena with an amused grin and she returned it. They'd both healed from their previous injuries and were no longer wearing casts.

"Huh. I'll be damned." Mike reached back and furiously rubbed the back of his stubbled head. "Really?"

Jackson and Lena both broke out into open laughter.

"Okay, very funny. Where's the real pilot?"

They continued laughing.

"Quit screwin' around. I want to see how she's doing?"

Lena doubled over with laughter, leaving it to Jackson to respond.

"No joke, Sarge. That's her. Here comes the doc. Ask her yourself."

A middle-aged female doctor walked down the hall with a team of med-techs in tow. The doctor wore a white lab coat, while the med-techs wore white jump suits more reminiscent of a mechanic than anyone who should be working in a medical lab.

Mike approached her.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Is this the woman you all cut from the T80 last month? I was told she was on this level somewhere." He was sure Jackson and Lena were pulling a practical joke and didn't want to be the butt of it. It wouldn't be the first time.

The doctor smiled.

"Sure is, marine. We're going to be waking her up in a minute. If you want, you can watch from behind the glass. You hoping to get a date?" She smirked. "She is a little young for you, don't you think?" She continued into the med-tech room with her team, while Jackson sank to the floor with Lena, who was already gasping for breath on the floor.

"Are you telling me a little teenage girl has one of the highest kill counts in the fleet?" He started laughing himself. He didn't know why he was laughing, but the absurdity of it was just hilarious. They all laughed together for a good five minutes until they finally ran out of energy.

***

Rayne liked butterflies. The thought caught in her mind...

"Okay. Let's pull the feeding tube first..."

...white dress she wore billowed around her knees.

"No. Not that one. Grab the other..."

She smiled as the suns warmed her face and felt the winds gentle touch...

"Yes. If you twist it like this instead of just..."

...backed slowly away keeping a close eye on the shadows...

"Perfect. Now dim the lights a little. Her eyes will..."

...continued to back away as fear gripped her chest and...

"Don't crowd her. Everyone but you two, back up."

"Doctor. Heart and respiration are starting to..."

...the fear down and replaced it with anger. She would not die afraid and hunted like prey. She took deep heavy breaths. Her hands clenched into fists.

"Doctor? She just clenched her hands. That's good..."

Rayne screamed her rage and defiance and charged to meet her nightmare.

"Holy sh..."

"Look out!"

***

The three looked on as the doctor walked the med-techs through waking the patient. They pulled tubes, disposed of needles and other medical waste, pushing equipment no longer in use out of the way. After ten minutes, a med-tech dimmed the lights.

"Hey. This is kind of like going to old movies when they dim the lights before the show," Jackson commented.

"You're an idiot," Lena replied, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Don't state the obvious, Lena. It makes you sound stupid," Mike scolded with mock seriousness.

"Sorry, Sarge. I promise...Holy sh...!"

They all staggered back as one of the med-techs came flying at the glass. Fortunately for them, the glass was shatter resistant, but the tech wasn't conscious to appreciate that fact. Inside the room, the young teenage girl was beating the holy living snot out of the medical team. The girl moved at lightning speed with all the viciousness of a cornered animal and the lethal precision of a machine. Three med-techs and the doctor lay unconscious on the floor in the space of a second, with the other two beating a hasty retreat of the exit.

"Two, Three. On me." Mike pushed past the fleeing med-techs to the door, not bothering to check whether Jackson and Lena were behind him.

***

Rayne screamed in rage. She was blinded by the lights, unable to see. She saw indistinct shapes surrounding her; blocking her escape. Rayne struck at the closest target with her fist. Restraining hands grabbed for her arms and legs. She threw an elbow and kicked out with her leg, then rolled off the table to her feet and kicked the last of her attackers in the head. He crumpled into a heap on the ground with the others.

Rayne tried to look at her surroundings but the glare was too bright. She squinted her eyes and tried to shield them with her hand. The lights were like daggers to the back of her skull. She looked around frantically for an escape route, but all she saw was white glare in every direction. Rayne screamed in frustration and then finally saw the open cargo bay door. If she ran now, she'd be into the cover of the jungle before anyone could catch her. She ran blindly forward only to hit a wall of solid rock, and sprawled back stunned.

Rayne looked up and saw her way was blocked by another enemy. She stood and launched herself at the attacker barring her way. Instead of the fist he was expecting, Rayne launched a foot between his legs. He bent over at the waist and she finished him off with an elbow to the temple. She spun back to the door only to find two more attackers charging through. She darted left but they were on her before she'd gone a step. They fell to the ground in a tumbled heap and Rayne rolled, punching and kicking for her life. Fighting her way to her feet, she made it two steps to the door before being taken down again. This time they had her. She struggled, but couldn't move. She screamed and screamed again, her voice ragged and hoarse. Hot tears of frustration ran down her face, the first in three years.

"Hold her still, damn it!"

"I'm trying, but I'm trying not to hurt her!"

"Yeah, and that plan's worked great so far. Keep it up."

"Shut up! Ow! I think she knocked a tooth loose."

"Just keep her still!"

"Is that my blood? I think she broke my nose."

"Probably improved your looks. Lock that arm down before she gets loose."

"Hey, Sarge? You awake yet?"

A groan, and someone crawling to their knees. Rayne briefly saw someone crouched in the fetal position gasping for air before she had to close her eyes against the glare.

"We could use a little help here, Sarge!"

Another groan, followed by a cough and retching sound. The third subject crawled to where she lay restrained on the ground. She bucked and twisted, attempting to break free. Rayne's voice no longer worked and she raged silently as she fought to free herself. She pulled one arm free and cracked it into the face of the big one holding her arms.

"Ow! Damn it! It was already broke. Sarge! I need help now! Forget your balls. We'll look for them later!"

The third figure dropped down and trapped her recently freed arm. They were nearly face to face.

"Stop." He said calmly with a husky, pained voice. "Please stop."

Rayne tried to head but him, but he turned his head away and she missed. He spoke softly in her ear.

"Stop. We're not here to hurt you. Stop."

Rayne stopped struggling, but was still tensed and strained at the hands holding her. She took deep, heaving breaths, trying to pull enough oxygen into her system to keep fighting again when the opportunity presented itself. All she needed was an opening.

"Do you mind, Jackson? You're bleeding over everything."

"Thuck it Lena. My nozth ith boke."

"Hahaha. Now you really sound like an idiot."

"Will you two shut up? I'm trying to get her to calm down. It's bad enough I can't feel anything below my waist right now without you to morons chattering."

Rayne tested her captors' grip. They had her solid and she wasn't going anywhere. Running footsteps sounded in the hallway and stopped at the door.

"What is going on here?!"

"What's it look like? We're all getting our asses handed to us by a little girl. Care to take a turn?"

"Let her go. We can take it from here."

"Are you nuts? You know what it took to get her down?"

"You three might have trouble with a little girl, but I think we can handle it. Now let her up."

"You're the boss. Lena, let her legs go."

Rayne took her advantage and lashed out with a wicked kick that met soft flesh. A body crashed to the floor.

Everyone in the room gave a collective groan.

"Has anyone seen my balls? While you're at it look for his, too."

Laughter sounded as someone groaned and wretched by the door. Rayne stopped. Laughter. She'd forgotten what it sounded like. She relaxed a little and tried to open her eyes. The three figures holding her were laughing in genuine amusement. Although the lights still hurt, they had adjusted just enough she could make out her surroundings. She was in a hospital room. The windows were broken, equipment was overturned and there were unconscious bodies sprawled on the floor, but it was a hospital room. And then the realization dawned on her. She was seeing with her own eyes and hearing with her own ears. She could feel the soft material of the hospital gown on her skin and the firm grip of hands on her limbs. It kind of hurt.

Rayne tried to speak but failed. Her throat was sore and locked up when she tried to speak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm sorry." She rasped. "You can let me go now."

CHAPTER 4

Rayne hugged her knees tightly to her chest; trying to suppress the shivers that racked her body as she sat in the corner with her back against the wall. She was cold and felt exposed, lonely and small. She knew it was crazy, but she missed the comforting, warm embrace and protection of the T80. She'd wished and hoped for freedom for so long and now there was nothing and she felt a sense of abandonment she was struggling to cope with. She'd been rescued, hadn't she? So why did she feel this way?

She squeezed her eyes tight against the glare of the overhead lights. They were so bright. Why couldn't they turn them down? She took a sip of warm broth from the plastic cup in her hand; trying to steal its warmth. The tech who'd delivered it had been accompanied by two security officers. She'd seen them coming through the intense glare of the lights and reinforced glass windows. The guards gave her hard looks and tightened their grip on their stun batons. Rayne didn't like the guards. They had been less than gentle when escorting her to her new room. The tech had approached cautiously with the cup at arm's length, set it on a table and fast walked out the door as the guards backed out.

She glanced down at her obsidian colored skin; running a hand over its smooth, shiny surface. It didn't feel right. She snorted at the thought. How would she even know? She hadn't touched her own skin for three years, but her memory of what it should feel like didn't match what she felt now. The first look in the mirror had been a shock and she'd spent several long minutes examining her new look. She was a freak. Even her teeth and eyes were black. The worst was the lack of hair. She'd always liked her long hair. Her mother used to say she'd had beautiful hair as she ran a brush through it at the end of the day. She missed the sensation of the brush through her hair as she ran a hand over her smooth head and looked around the room.

Since the last room had been destroyed, she'd been escorted under heavy guard to this one. It was stripped of most everything and consisted of mainly just four walls, a bathroom and the med-tech table. It had a clean sterile smell, but the heavy door and locks couldn't be standard. Had she just traded her T80 prison for a larger one? Time would tell.

Rayne took her time sipping the broth. After three years of not using her mouth to eat, the taste and feel of it were heaven. She took a sip and closed her eyes; letting the warm fluid slide down her throat. She enjoyed the sensation for several seconds and took another sip, repeating the process until the cup was empty. She tipped her head back and turned the cup upside down to get every last drop. She set the cup carefully down on the polished floor and enjoyed the sensation of the warmth it had created deep inside her.

Something was missing though. In the midst of the chaos she hadn't noticed it until now. Silence. The sensation of finally being free of the combat suit's metal prison was countered by the total quiet that now pervaded her existence. As weird as she knew it was, she missed the machine's chatter inside her head: the alerts, scans, status checks and mapping that had been her constant companion for the last three years. The machine had talked to her in its own way and she had talked back in turn. She no longer had the constant input and companionship the T80's software had provided. Maybe that's where the sense of abandonment came from. It was like she had lost a friend. All that was left was a dull ache in the back of her head and the faint sound of static. Like the speakers on a sound system that had been left on, but the input disconnected.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a doctor walking past the glass window of her room. He was short, about her height or maybe a little taller. He had a round shape that prevented him from buttoning his white lab coat and had a bald head he was trying to hide with a poorly made attempt to comb what little hair he had on the side over the top.

He spoke briefly with the two guards outside her door. They nodded and cast sidelong glances at her and then moved toward the door with their stun batons in hand. Rayne stood and took several steps away from the wall, putting the med-tech table between her and the approaching guards. They stopped midway into the room with batons at the ready, the doctor standing between and just behind them.

"I am Dr. Alan," he said with a nasally voice that grated on her ears, looking down the length of his pudgy nose as he spoke. Rayne immediately decided she didn't like him. "You are required to come with me for psychological testing and evaluation. This is not a request." He looked at her with a long, hard stare. Rayne stared back offering nothing in reply. "Any resistance on your part will not be taken lightly and you will be taken by force if necessary." The doctor huffed importantly.

It was obvious the good doctor wouldn't be administering any of the force. Rayne guessed the only force he was capable of applying was to the food he stuffed in his overly big mouth. As for the guards, they looked eager and willing. Both were average height and moderately fit, but had the look of men who'd spent more time behind a security monitor than actually using the stun batons they gripped in their soft hands. Rayne looked past them to the open door they'd neglected to close and lock behind them. She decided she didn't like this man and would not do anything he told her.

"No," she replied hoarsely, looking the doctor in the eye. The doctor's already ruddy complexion turned even redder and the guards hefted their batons.

"Gentlemen." The doctor said imperiously. "Take this young lady into custody and bring her with me. Drag her kicking and screaming if necessary." The security guards grinned and stepped forward. They had been waiting for a chance to rough up their charge after she had taken a cheap shot at their corporal. They held him in high esteem and thought the only way she'd gotten the best of him was a blindsided kick with a little help from the three marines with her. The marines laughing as they walked away had done nothing to dispel this idea, especially since it was completely true. Security personnel hated the marines anyway and that was not likely to change anytime soon.

The guard on the left turned to the other while keeping one eye on Rayne to give him a brief plan of action. In doing so, Rayne saw his weight shift to his heels at the same time distracting his fellow, who was not as wise, and completely shifted his focus away from her. Rayne was never one to wait for an attack to come to her. She always attacked first if she could or at least met it head on.

She dove feet first under the table separating her from her new enemy. She slid briefly across the floor and kicked at the knee of the distracted guard. He crashed to the ground, screaming in pain and letting go of his stun baton at the same time. It clattered to the floor and Rayne scooped it up with her right hand. She spun to her knees and blocked the other guard's strike arcing down toward her head. Had he used a short stab with the baton, he may have had a chance, but had instead used a Hail Mary strike using all his power. While devastating if contact were made, the movement was slow and had allowed her the space and time to protect herself. Rayne batted the strike away from her head, still with one knee on the ground, reversed her swing and brought it across his knee caps. He screamed in agony and fell to the ground. Unlike his fellow, he still held his baton and attempted to use it to defend himself as Rayne struck at him with a series of hard fast blows. He managed to block the first two strikes as he gave off high pitched screams, more out of luck than anything else, but the third caught him on the temple and he ceased to move.

Rayne picked up the second baton in her left hand and turned, shading her eyes from the glare of the light. The good Dr. Alan was still standing in his original position, apparently too shocked to do anything else. His mouth opened and closed like a pudgy blowfish as he tried to find the right words.

"Now that is just about enough of that," he blustered. "You will put those sticks down and come with..."

Rayne's right hand snaked out and tapped him in the temple with the tip of the baton. There was a small electric snap and the doctor's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he melted into a fat puddle on the floor. Rayne held the baton up to her face, peering down its length as she cocked her head to the side. She smiled slightly and gave a brief nod of approval. Rayne lightly stepped over the still form of the doctor, her clean white med-tech dress billowing around her knees. Her feet made no sound on the cool, smooth floor as she walked out the door, humming a simple tune she remembered from childhood to drown out the sound of static hissing in her head.

***

Mike sat reclined in an overstuffed chair in the corner of the rec room, a large cold pack resting on his temple. The two pain killers he'd been given hadn't kicked in yet and he hoped the cold pack would freeze his head so he couldn't feel the pain anymore. Medical staff said he'd suffered a mild concussion, but would otherwise be fine. The ache in his head and groin begged to differ. Both of them throbbed in time to the beat of his heart, and he wished, not for the first time, he could just pass out. While his head and sensitive parts hurt, the biggest blow was to his ego. He'd walked into that med-tech room thinking he'd rule the day and calm the storm with the power of his awesomeness, only to have a little girl wipe the floor with him. He dreaded the ribbing he'd take from the squad when they found out.

Fortunately, he wasn't alone in his suffering, as both Jackson and Lena had been beaten up by the same little girl. Lena had gotten off pretty easy with a black eye and split lip she'd suffered when she'd taken a few kicks and an elbow to the face. Jackson wasn't so lucky. Med-tech had to set and fuse his nose bones back together. His nose had been twisted sideways from the repeated strikes and looked like a really ugly letter "S". If that wasn't enough, a knee to the face had done more than loosen a tooth, it had actually cracked and fallen out. Lena had laughed that not only did he sound stupid now, he also looked it. Jackson's reply was a nonsensical mumble neither one of them could understand, which made both of them laugh and Jackson scowl as he mumbled something else and turned away. Lena had stayed behind with Jackson in med-tech to sooth his injured pride and giggle when he wasn't looking.

Procyon Naval Station was a stop for many sailors and marines throughout this part of the system. Recreational fighting was part of the entertainment. The med-tech facilities were used to such injuries and had them patched up and out the door in fairly short order.

Mike gave a sigh as the pain killers began to give him some measure of relief. Jackson and Lena walked in laughing and sat down in the chairs opposite.

"Hey, Sarge. We found your balls. They were rolling down the hallway. The left one is a little squished though," Lena joked. They chuckled and asked how he was doing.

"A little better now that the drugs are kicking in." He pulled the cold pack off his head, sitting up with a grimace. "How're you two doing? Looks like they got your nose mostly straight." He squinted through the pain to look at Jackson.

"Yeah, thtill thwollen though. The tech thed no fighting for at leatht anoda week." He ran a hand through his short curly hair. "Can I borrow your cold pack?" Mike handed it over and Jackson leaned back and rested it on the bridge of his nose.

"How you doing?" he asking, turning to Lena.

She waved him off.

"I'm good. Jackson caught most of that tornado. Man, can that girl fight or what? I've never seen anyone move so fast."

"And throng too. Can you believe how throng she wath? It took everything I had to keep her down." Jackson repositioned the cold pack on his nose. "I gueth we found out why thee hath thuch a high kill count. Damn. Thath's all I gotta thay. Damn."

Lena nodded in agreement.

At that moment, the other members of the squad walked into the rec room. They'd gone as a group to play soccer against the fleet sailors in one of the large, mostly empty, cargo bays. The sailors generally won the matches, but the marines enjoyed making them pay for it.

"What happened to you guys?" Four asked. The others started taking seats around the three waiting to hear why their sergeant and two squad mates looked like they'd been fed through a metal recycler. Four, or Davis, was the leader of the group when neither One, Two, or Three were around. At one hundred eighty-four centimeters, he was the tallest member in the group. He was hard and lean and bore numerous scars from his previous combat tours. His darkly tanned skin was otherwise smooth and unadorned, unlike most marines who boasted at least half a dozen tattoos. Davis was always calm, even in combat. Nothing seemed to affect him and he was one of the rocks of Mike's team.

Before Mike or Jackson could think up a suitable lie worthy of the marine tradition, Lena spouted the truth. To her, getting beat up by another female wasn't such a big deal and she knew everyone would enjoy giving the guys a hard time.

"They just got their asses handed to them by that girl we rescued." She barked a laugh, but then cringed in pain as her cut lip began to bleed.

"Thut up Lena. She kicked your ath too." Jackson had pulled the cold pack off to reveal his still swollen nose. The squad laughed.

"Damn, Jackson. She messed you up," Taft said, looking him over. Jackson gave him a fingered, suggesting he keep his opinion to himself.

"You shoulda seen her take out Sarge," Lena said. She was on a roll now and it was useless for Mike to try and stop her. She was having too much fun.

"What? No way," said Davis with surprise. They'd been in a number of fights during their time together and he'd never seen Mike go down.

"Like a tornado full of angry cats. Kicked his nads across the room, then knocked him cold with an elbow to the head. Laid him out flat." Lena was practically beaming. The men in the room were cringing and unconsciously moving their hands to protect their valuables.

"Tornado full of cats it is right," Mike agreed. The pounding in his head and groin had reduced to a dull ache and he attempted to salvage some pride. "Once I pulled myself off the floor, it took all three of us to take her down."

"All three of us my ass," Lena countered. "Was me and Jackson that took her down. You were busy puking your guts out." The squad laughed.

"You mean it took both of you?" Davis asked. The whole squad was surprised and amused at the same time, not completely sure if they were joking or not. Jackson and Lena were a formidable force in a fight, to which they could all attest.

"You've never seen someone hit as fast and hard as this girl," Lena continued. "She cleared nearly the whole med-tech staff in just a couple of seconds and then laid into the Sarge. That reminds me. You think Corporal Patterson can walk upright yet? I think I heard one of the techs saying she totally crushed his left nut."

"What happened to him?" The group sat forward in their chairs, eager to hear what had happened to security's corporal. They all hated him and openly wished for bad things to happen to him.

Lena continued her story with an evil glint in her eyes.

"He walks in all big and bad like he always does and tells us to let her up. So...I let her go," she finished with a shrug. "Sure enough, she catches him square in the nads. Last time I saw him he was curled up on a gurney, throwing up in a bucket." The squad all broke into loud laughter that continued for several minutes.

They all turned as shouts and running feet sounded from the corridor outside.

***

Rayne was tired of staying in her room and didn't want to go back. Especially under the hostile care of the station's security team and doctors. She refused to be imprisoned again; she refused to be caged. Three years in the T80 had left her no desire to be confined ever again, although she had to admit she felt naked without its armor and weapons, like a soldier who'd lost a limb. She was aware they weren't 'the enemy', which is why she hadn't killed any of them yet. But she wouldn't let herself be hurt or handled either.

She strolled down the halls aimlessly, simply enjoying the feel of her own body as her feet touched the floor and the fabric of her dress brushed her skin. The lights still hurt her eyes and made her squint, and the constant hiss of static in her head was annoying but she hummed a happy tune as she walked, occasionally twirling in a circle like a dancer on stage. A twirling dancer with two stun batons in her hands.

Rayne kept a loose relaxed hold on them as she walked, hummed and twirled down the hall. She knew they'd come for her eventually and try and put her back in her cage. She wouldn't go though. She was out and would stay that way.

Rayne idly wondered if they had any kind of natural habitat on the station. She'd been disappointed when she'd looked out the viewport windows to find she was in space, not planet side. She wanted to be outside and feel everything with her own skin and see everything with her own eyes. She wanted to walk on grass and feel the sun and wind on her face. And she wanted to chase butterflies. Yes, blue ones.

Rayne turned a corner into the next corridor. She had no idea where she was or where she was going and her brain reflexively stretched out to search the space around her, but found only static. Frustrated, she determined to ask the next person she saw if they had a natural habitat and where she could find it. A med-tech in white overalls emerged from a side door and started walking her direction. He held a data pad in his hands and wasn't paying attention as he scanned the screen. Rayne stopped, hoping to ask for directions.

"Hello," she said softly.

The med-tech looked up distractedly with a smile. Rayne could see he had a fresh bruise on a puffy cheek and a split lip. The smile he had been wearing melted from his face and his eyes turned wide with fear. He dropped the data pad with a clatter, turned and ran down the hall screaming at the top of his lungs for security.

Rayne frowned. That hadn't gone at all like she had hoped. She looked down at the stun batons held loosely in her hands. Maybe she should hide them behind her back next time. Yeah, that was probably it; she'd scared him with the batons. She made a mental note and continued down the hall.

***

Captain Gault sat reading, "The Art of War by Sun Tzu." It was an old, battered, paper edition his ex had given him for one of his birthdays. Besides its obvious military applications, he found it gave him significant insight into the tactics she'd used during their brief marriage. Although he didn't like dwelling on the past, he believed in being prepared for the future, and while currently divorced, their interactions were by no means finished and he intended to be ready.

He reclined easily on the bright alloy park bench. This was his favorite spot and time of day to be here. The nature habitat was a popular destination for many of the station's crew during their free time and you could usually find it busy with an assortment of people engaged in different forms of leisurely pursuits. He'd found that if timed just right, he could have the place nearly to himself for the space of an hour during shift changes. As ship's captain, he wasn't strictly bound to schedule and could take his leisure when he saw fit, barring emergency.

He was currently reading chapter eight, "The Nine Variations." He'd read the book many times as evidenced by the dog eared and heavily marked pages. Chapter eight spoke of the need for flexibility in responding to situations in a shifting environment. He shook his head and snorted, not for the first time. Like most men involved in relationships, he had failed to recognize the woman in his life as an ever changing, incomprehensible being and failed to respond accordingly. He'd assumed what worked last time would work the next time as well. What a stupid thought. He'd never make that assumption in combat.

Captain Gault heard humming coming from the clearing on the other side of the trees. It was a light, happy tune he recognized as a folk song from the Epsilon Indi system. He heard movement through the habitat's undergrowth and looked up to see a young girl chasing butterflies. She appeared to be sixteen or seventeen and moved with the fluid grace of a dancer. The white med-tech dress she wore and bare feet added to the illusion. She chased the butterflies through the small clearing where he sat, oblivious to his presence. Her most notable feature was her jet-black skin and total lack of hair. The additional lack of eyebrows or eyelashes gave her a truly alien look. Even so, she was very pretty and the captain stopped and watched as she chased the dancing butterflies through the air. The other feature that could hardly be missed was the two stun batons she held in her left hand as she reached out to grab the butterflies with her right.

Why on earth would she have those? he thought to himself. He watched quietly for several moments, not wanting to disturb the young girl. She was obviously enjoying herself and he didn't want to spoil the moment.

The girl made an inhumanly high jump for the butterflies and caught one with her outstretched hand. She landed lightly, crouching on the ground with her hand cupped protectively around it. The batons remained in her left hand and a quiet laugh escaped her lips. The captain imagined a daughter he might have had if life had worked out differently.

She opened her hand and the butterfly gently fluttered away. The girl stood, watching it float into the high recesses of the habitat's dome. She turned and stopped, black eyes locking on the captain. The hand holding the batons slowly slid behind her back, concealed by the folds of her white gown. She was tense. Not like a bird ready for flight in fear, but like a predator making a cautious evaluation of someone she knew neither as friend or foe.

Sensing the tension, Captain Gault spoke first.

"Hello."

Intense black eyes evaluated him and then checked the surroundings as if expecting attack before shifting back to him.

"Hello," she replied. Her voice was a soft whisper almost too quiet to hear. She didn't shift or relax her stance.

The captain was intrigued and decided to see if she would engage him in conversation. "My name's Jason. What's yours?"

Her expression flickered as if she was trying to remember. Her eyes cast about briefly and then returned to his.

"Rayne," she replied in the same quiet whisper.

Not being much of a conversationalist, the captain thought quickly for something to continue the conversation.

"So, you like butterflies?"

Her eyes flickered to the expansive dome above her and then looked back.

"Yes." Her feet shifted in the short grass and she darted a quick look at her surroundings again.

"Would you like to sit down? It's very peaceful here and you can watch the butterflies." The captain indicated a spot on the bench next to him. She glanced at the spot and then again to him. Her feet shifted again on the soft grass. She went completely still. The captain held his breath and waited. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."

Several moments passed and then the girl put one hesitant foot forward, her eyes glancing down to his hands and then back to his eyes. She had just begun another hesitant step forward when he heard the sound of shouting and running footsteps.

The girl whirled at the sound and dropped into a defensive crouch. The two stun batons, previously hidden from sight, sprung to both hands. She held them in a relaxed grip and stepped forward to meet two running security guards who were armed after the same fashion.

The captain noted Rayne didn't wait for the security guards to reach her, but ran forward with an easy graceful step. The first security guard swung his baton in a high overhead arc while the second moved in with a strike to the girl's midsection. Rayne didn't pause, but spun to the left with equal amounts of grace and mechanical precision. She batted the baton aimed for her head to the side, spun again and cracked the security guard on the back of the head. He fell in a tumbled heap as his companion's baton struck at nothing. Rayne had reversed direction, stepped inside his swing before he could recover and jabbed the stun baton into the brachial nerve on the side of his neck. He crumpled immediately onto the prostrate form of his companion.

Rayne turned back to the captain, who was still seated on the bench with his book in hand. She gave a slight shrug and a half smile, and then frowned in annoyance at the sound of more shouting and running feet. She turned and ran with light feet in the opposite direction, the white gown fluttering around her knees. Moments later a group of ten security guards flashed past.

Captain Gault quietly closed his book, got up and walked after them.

***

Rayne glided smoothly down the corridors. She had no idea where she was going, but it was obvious she had left the medical deck behind. The white walls had given way to dull gray and while they were still clean, lacked the overly sterile, antiseptic smell. Still, one jungle was pretty much like any other. Just because there weren't any trees, hanging vines or other vegetation, didn't mean the rules of engagement were any different.

Rayne didn't like to run from a fight, but it was sometimes a necessity. She'd found the best tactic when being pursued was a stop and go approach. Run until they got complacent, turn on them in quick, vicious strikes, and then run again. Repeat the process until they were all dead or gave up the chase. In any case, the pursuit tended to slow to a crawl after that as it had now. She'd turned on her pursuers three times already and they were now less eager to catch their target. Each time, she had waited in ambush around a corner or side door and delivered a series of surprise attacks that left them beaten and bloody. Stun batons apparently had only so much life and her heavy use of the items had depleted their power cells. Even so, she still used them to devastating effect. Nearly the entire security force was bruised, bleeding, or limping, but they were still angry and not yet willing to admit defeat. They limped down the hall in pursuit, carefully edging around each corner as they approached.

The corridors became more crowded as she moved. Sailors, technicians and the occasional marine bustled down the halls as they hurried to complete their various tasks. Rayne dodged in and out of their midst, leaving behind barely a whisper that she had been there. Many were so intent on data pads or technical conversations; they didn't even note her passing. The security force trailing her was a different matter. They left a wake of destruction in their path as they knocked inattentive walkers to the side. Those that saw them coming ducked into doorways or plastered themselves against the bulkhead.

Rayne ran past a long line of personnel queued up in the hallway and into a large room. There were tables arranged in long rows and people conversed and laughed as they ate. The cafeteria. Rayne was hungry and salivated at the sight of the food. The broth she'd eaten had been good, but hadn't done any lasting damage against her hunger.

She heard the sounds of pursuit getting closer and all heads started to turn toward the door where she had stopped. Rayne switched both batons to one hand and fast walked toward the other side of the room, trying to keep them hidden in the folds of her gown. She hoped no one would pay her much attention, but who was she kidding, really? Being completely bald, barefoot and wearing a med-tech gown, it wasn't likely she'd escape attention, even without skin that flashed like obsidian. The heads that had swiveled toward the doors at the earlier sound of pursuit now turned back to Rayne, and then back to the door as the ragged security team burst through the doors to a skidding halt.

The lead guard pointed his baton at Rayne and yelled, "Fan out and take her down!"

All heads swung back to Rayne noting her young age, bald head, bare feet, and medical gown, and then back at the security team that looked like they'd lost a fight with a bunch of drunken marines.

Rayne took a moment to assess her options as she scanned the room. Was that chocolate cake they were serving? Focus, she told herself. Now wasn't the time, but she took another longing look before tearing her attention back to the problem at hand. She could keep running as she had or stand and fight. She hated running, she really did, and decided she had done just about enough of it for one day.

Although outnumbered, the security team was dividing itself in a misguided attempt to corner her as they fanned out through the large room. There were about a hundred or so diners in the cafeteria. Fortunately, none looked eager to join in the chase or play the hero. Security was universally disliked on the station and they'd get no help from the spectators. They all looked on in interest to see what was going on, many with concern that the security team would hurt the poor young girl.

Rayne picked up a fist-sized fruit off someone's plate and hurled it with incredible force at the lead security man across the room. Before he could duck, it exploded in his face with a shower of juicy pulp and he fell to the ground, unconscious. A chorus of cheers and laughter rose from the spectators like fans at a soccer match. New entertainment could be hard to come by on a space station and this was shaping up to be a good show.

Rayne's best chance was to keep moving and not let the security team use their larger force to overwhelm her. She moved quickly at the two closing on her right, scooping up another piece of fruit as she went. When she got just close enough, she hurled it at the one in the lead. Having seen his leader go down from the same fruit attack he ducked to the side. The fruit missed him, but the baton that smashed across his face did not. Blood spurted from what looked like an already broken nose. The second guard moved in low with a strike intended for her legs. Rayne spun over the top of the swing and brought her own baton down on his wrist in a back-hand swing. An audible "crack" sounded throughout the room as he fell to the floor screaming and a collective, "oooooh" sounded from the audience.

Rayne kept moving to her right, charging a single security guard standing in the isle. He met the charge with feet planted wide and his baton raised to the ready. She raised her baton high over her head as if to swing an overhand strike, but then at the last second slid feet first along the smooth floor, and connected a hard heel to his groin. Her momentum carried her onward as her locked leg lifted him several inches to finally topple face first on the ground. The audience of mostly men moaned in mock sympathy.

The next guard was almost on top of her before she had time to react. She blocked the strike intended for her head, stepped from his path and let his momentum carry him past. Having dropped one of her batons in the process she grabbed a metal meal tray from one of the diners and smacked it across the man's temple with all her strength as he turned back for another swing. The loud metal clang echoed through the room, drawing another cheer from the spectators.

Rayne heard another attack coming from behind and dove to the side. When she looked up, she found one of the security guards skidding toward her face down, sliding to a halt at her feet. She looked up in confusion at the diners still seated at their tables. They all smiled and one in particular shrugged his shoulders and pulled his foot back under the table.

Rayne stood, grabbed her baton and cracked the security guard on the back of the head before he had a chance to fully rise. She looked around and noted the remaining few security team members were not willing to press the fight without the advantage of numbers. Rayne glanced down at one of the diners, a middle-aged sailor with grease stains on his fingers. She indicated his plate of food and asked simply.

"Please?"

He smiled in return. "All yours darlin'. Thanks for the show."

She picked up the tray and walked out eating a piece of chocolate cake to the sounds of applause.

***

Rayne was in heaven. The cake tasted absolutely amazing and was gone before she even reached the doorway. She scooped the remaining fruits, vegetables and pasta to her mouth with her hand while keeping a wary eye on those she passed in the hall. Everyone turned to look as she passed now. Word had spread almost before she'd left the cafeteria about the little black, bald girl who'd taken out the entire security team. There were a few nods and smiles mixed with wary glances, but no one spoke or tried to stop her.

She finished the food and looked around for a place to put the tray. Not finding anywhere convenient, she set it on the ground and walked away licking her fingers clean. Her mother had always scolded her for doing that at the dinner table. It was a fond memory. She and her mother often ate alone. As captain of the ship, her father was busy and missed a lot of family meals. Her mother had been trying to teach her the finer points of etiquette, but Rayne had been resistant and hadn't made much of an effort.

Rayne stopped when she heard laughter from further on down the corridor. It stopped and was followed by low voices and then more laughter. She approached cautiously, trying to snatches pieces of conversation as she got closer.

"..it took both of you?" a male voice asked.

Rayne stepped aside to let two crew members discussing technical specs for the fission drive walk past. They were so intent on their discussion they didn't give her any notice. She reached the outer door and paused.

"You've never seen someone hit as fast and hard...," a woman's voice spoke.

A group of sailors walked out laughing. They were talking about the fight in the cafeteria and taking great enjoyment at the security team's misfortunes. They didn't see Rayne standing at the door and kept walking down the hall as one of their number continued animatedly with the story. Rayne turned back to the door. She instinctively tried to amplify the sound coming to her ears, but received nothing but static in return. She frowned in frustration, straining to hear the continuing conversation.

"Last time I saw him he was curled up on a gurney, throwing up in a bucket." There was more laughing from the unseen group. She liked the sound. Besides being scolded for licking her fingers at the dinner table, she remembered her mother's laugh. She always seemed to find the humor in things, and her laugh and positive attitude were infectious. Even her father had no choice but to crack a smile despite his best efforts to stay serious. A serious man with a serious job, her father. Mother balanced him out with her humor.

Rayne heard shouting and running feet behind her. She sighed and turned. The security team seemed to have added to their numbers, she noted, replacing some of the broken ones with fresh personnel. There were about twenty now and they all looked very angry and very determined.

The corridor Rayne stood in was wide and spacious. It was one of the main thoroughfares through the station and received a lot of traffic. While there was plenty of room to fight, there were enough of them now that she needed to find some other place that gave her the advantage. The door next to her provided just such a place, bottlenecking them as they attempted to get through. Instead of fighting all twenty at once, she would only have to fight one, maybe two. Rayne backed through the doorway and into the room about two meters. The batons came up and she readied herself for the fight.

***

"Is that the girl you been talking about?" Davis asked. He watched the black bald, teenage girl back into the room wearing a white med-tech gown and holding two stun batons at the ready. "Is she supposed be that color?" The squad turned and looked curiously.

"The doc said it was from the bio gel in the T80. What's she up to?" Mike asked.

"Whatever it is, it looks like business," Lena replied.

"Jutht keep her away from my nothe," Jackson complained.

"Would you quit whining already? We should let her beat you up again just on principle," Lena snarked.

"She looks kind of cute from this side, even with the bald head," Taft commented as he twisted around in his chair. "You think she'll go out with me?" Everyone laughed again.

The girl tensed as the shouting came closer and they saw two security guards round the corner and into the doorway. She didn't even let them take a step before she was on them. A flurry of movement left two men on the ground unconscious and bleeding. Two more took their place as more massed behind them trying to push their way behind their fellows. The girl moved with a speed that was hard to follow as she struck at knees, wrists and elbows. The sounds of cracking bones and dropped batons sounded through the room as she landed vicious blow after vicious blow.

"Damn, Sarge," said Davis with raised eyebrows. "You weren't kidding, were you?"

Despite the tactical advantage, the girl gave way under the superior numbers as more bodies forced their way past downed comrades and into the rec room. She disengaged and gave herself some space, and appeared to be looking for an escape route.

Mike looked on and came to a quick decision. While it had been embarrassing to be beaten so soundly by the girl, he wasn't about to let her go it alone against security. She'd stood her ground to save his downed marines after all. The shot to the privates had probably evened the score, but he still felt obligated to return the favor. Besides, security were dicks anyway and needed a good beating.

"Guys. I'm thinking big men shouldn't pick on little girls with sticks," Mike said. "Let's teach'em some manners." Those not already standing got up and moved forward as one. They walked forward in a line and took positions on either side of the girl, who was tense and on the verge of launching herself into the fight. She was startled for a moment and looked on the verge of fighting them off, but then saw they were taking up positions to defend her. She relaxed back into her defensive stance and stood facing the security team with the marines waiting for the others to make the first move.

A large corporal stepped forward and pointed his big hammy finger at the girl and then the marines.

"You are to come with us. The rest of you disperse. Now!"

"Kiss off, Collins." Mike replied. "This girl here is a friend of ours and she ain't going anywhere." Mike was familiar with most of the security supervisors. During leave time he became acquainted with them out of necessity, as he picked up his marines from the brig after a night of fun and fighting. Corporal Collins was as big an idiot as the rest of them, making him wonder if it was a job requirement.

Corporal Collins turned redder than he already was and shouted.

"I said, stand down, marines! This is a security matter and this girl is to be taken to the psych ward in our custody."

"Security doesn't give marines orders, Collins. I do, and I say you're not getting her without a fight." Mike crossed his arms as nine other marines stood ready.

Corporal Collins looked at the unarmed marines and smiled. "Alright, guys. Jar Head says he wants a fight. Let's give it to him." He began to step forward.

"I don't think you will, corporal." All heads turned as Captain Gault stepped into the room. He had followed the path of destruction left by Rayne and the security team through the station. He'd caught glimpses of them here and there as they ran through the corridors, as well as the med-techs treating injured guards at irregular intervals. He still had his book in his hands, held behind his back as he walked in no particular hurry to catch up to the chase. He had caught the tail end of the performance in the cafeteria. That had certainly been eye opening. Then he had followed Rayne at a discrete distance as she walked and ate her meal, waiting to see what she would do next. He eventually hoped to continue their earlier, interrupted conversation, but wanted to make sure it was safe to do so first.

Kind of like dealing with his ex, he mused.

He walked slowly between the guards and then turned to face the corporal. Captain Gault had been a sailor for most of his life. As such, he had no love for security. As captain, he recognized their necessity. Marines and sailors often needed a heavy hand to maintain order and discipline, but he wasn't overly fond of the way they went about it. He was certainly not impressed with their attempts to corner the young lady standing behind him using stun batons and violence. His brief contact with her had hinted at her troubled psyche and the performance in the cafeteria had demonstrated the danger of not dealing with her carefully. Oh, she was dangerous, that much was obvious, but thick-headed linear thinkers like the security guards had made a delicate situation worse and the whole thing had spun out of control.

After seeing his marines step forward to protect the girl, he had felt not just a sense of pride at their chivalrous conduct, but had also seen an opportunity to take control and establish order. He had noted the young girl had not turned and attacked the marines and so took the chance in assuming she had accepted their presence and help. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, he thought as he looked up at the hulking corporal. Was that an old Arabic quote or Chinese? He couldn't remember.

"Why don't you explain yourself...because I haven't been impressed with what I've seen so far?" The captain spoke in a low calm voice. The marines knew from experience not to mess with the captain-under any circumstances. The corporal had no such experience, but intuition seemed to serve him well as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself and explain.

"That young woman is an escapee from med-tech and has been ordered to report for psych testing," he said, pointing angrily over the captain's shoulder at Rayne. "So far, she's injured her entire med-tech team, half the security detail, as well as three of your own marines."

Captain Gault half turned and took a side long glance at Mike, Jackson, and Lena, noting the fresh bruising, split lip, and broken nose.

"You know this girl, Sgt. Weber?"

Mike stepped forward and spoke just quietly enough for the captain to hear. Captain Gault's eye brows went up as he listened to the sergeant's brief report. He turned back to the corporal.

"Until determined otherwise, this young lady is part of my crew and under my authority." The corporal moved to speak but the captain cut him off. "This is not a debate, corporal. I will be personally escorting her to my ship under the care of these marines. You will not interfere. Have your supervisor, as well as the chief medical officer, contact me and we'll work out any details for their psych test. Understood?"

Corporal Collins took a moment to assess his options. The wheels turned slowly as he thought, until he finally turned on his heel and took his security team with him, some of them limping and holding broken limbs as they went. The captain watched them go and then turned to the girl as the marines stood by expectantly, not sure what would happen next.

Rayne was peering around the captain, double checking to see if the security guards had indeed left. Having seen them walk out the door, she relaxed and looked up at the captain. She blinked, but didn't say a word as she held her batons loosely at her sides.

"Hello again, Rayne," said the captain softly, trying to smile kindly. "Will you come with me?" He didn't offer his hand, but indicated the door and corridor beyond.

Rayne stared at him for several moments as everyone tensely waited her response. The captain reminded her of her father. Always so serious, but kind when he needed to be. Rayne decided she liked him.

"Yes," she replied in a whisper.

***

Captain Gault restrained himself from reaching across his desk to punch the man before him. Instead, he projected the calm and quiet confidence of command. This was his ship after all, even if it was in dock. But Dr. Alan had to be one of the most condescending and arrogant men he'd ever come across and his patience was being severely tested. The doctor had stormed into his office unannounced and uninvited, making demands regarding Rayne. It had been five minutes now, and the man had yet to stop talking. He was half tempted to have him escorted from the ship, but that would create more problems than it solved. Instead, he sat quietly waiting for the doctor to run out of steam. It was a little like waiting out his drill instructor in basic. Sgt. Galespy, if he remembered correctly. Just ride the storm until it blew itself out. He brought himself back to the present as Dr. Alan asked a question that required answering.

"And what do you intend to do about it?" he huffed, obviously a little winded by his diatribe.

"I don't intend to do anything at all. Your medical team and station security are responsible for the entire mess." He looked pointedly at Procyon Naval Station's security commander standing behind the doctor and then back to Dr. Alan himself. "A medical team exhibiting any kind of competence should know better than to wake a combat pilot from stasis without restraint." The doctor looked ready to protest. "Isn't that the proper procedure? Or am I mis-informed?"

"Well, yes, but...," the doctor sputtered.

Captain Gault didn't let him finish.

"The fact that she looks like a teenage girl shouldn't have changed that. So, if your people deviated from procedure and got hurt in the process that's their own fault." He leaned forward, glaring at the doctor. "I also have some serious concerns that after finally gaining control of the situation, with the help of some of my marines I might add, you decided that using stun batons on the young girl would be a good idea."

"She knocked me unconscious!"

"And you damn well deserved it!" he shouted. "I'm half tempted to do it myself!" The captain didn't lose his temper often, but when he did, he lost it big. Spittle flew onto the cowering forms before him. "Your level of incompetence is astounding! You can be sure it will come to the attention of station command." Captain Gault closed his eyes briefly and drew a slow breath. He opened them again and fixed his piercing gaze on both men before him as he smoothed his uniform.

"What about the psych test?" asked Dr. Alan. He wasn't completely cowed, but had backed off from his earlier aggressive demands. Captain Gault guessed the doctor knew he'd pushed too far already.

"You will get your psychological testing, Dr. Alan. But with respect to Rayne, you will no longer have direct control, since you've proven yourself incompetent to do so." The captain held a hand up as the doctor was about to speak. "First, any testing will be cleared through me. Second, Rayne will be escorted by two of my marines at all times, not this station's security." The security commander didn't look happy, but knew better than to complain to the already angry captain. "And third, don't ever come into my office uninvited. Now get out."

The doctor looked about to say something, but the commander grabbed him by the arm and hurriedly escorted him from the room.

He leaned back in his chair as they left and began thinking through his options. While this was not a combat op, the principles would be no different. If he didn't think it through, he could find himself blindsided by some bureaucratic piece of regulation that would tie his hands or limit his control over Rayne's welfare. His brief contact with the girl had convinced him she had some serious issues that needed dealt with. The station's medical and security teams had so far proven themselves unequal to the task. The assertion that Rayne was part of his crew would only hold up for so long. Once they found out who she really was, a simple, orphaned child from a wrecked cargo vessel, he would lose any pretended authority he had. Captain Gault had yet to share his information with the station's medical staff, and in light of recent events, intended withholding the information for as long as possible. In the meantime, he needed options.

He didn't trust the station to make the right decisions where Rayne was concerned. Although why he was involving himself, he wasn't quite sure. Procedure dictated he hand over all relevant data on the girl, dump her off and move on. But that was the problem with procedure, he was finally coming to realize. It lacked flexibility; humanity even. Was it possible procedure could prevent someone from doing the right thing? He was beginning to believe that it was. Sgt. Weber's highly risky stunt during the rescue mission had been just one of many instances that was solidifying that emerging belief. He'd been giving the whole idea a great deal of thought and was coming to the conclusion that a lack of flexibility and strict adherence to procedure had lost him a number of battles, not the least of which was his marriage.

The captain grimaced. It always seemed to come back to that. Possibly the greatest failure in his life was his divorce. He didn't like losing but it was a great deal more than that. He'd felt a great deal of loss over the whole thing. It was like losing his right arm and the memory of having it still there.

He rubbed his temples as he attempted to clear the useless thoughts from his head. Options. He needed options. The captain pulled himself forward and began wading through the mountains of procedure and legal data, hoping to find something that would allow him to do the right thing.

***

Rayne's terrified flight through the jungle had left her exhausted. She'd fallen so many times she'd lost count. She felt like a toddler learning to walk. Even without the added obstacles the jungle environment posed, she would have had difficulty. The T80's interface with her brain was hardly complete and was a process that often took weeks the first time the suit was worn. Until then, pilots often found themselves walking around like drunken monkeys. Mastering the T80 took mental concentration and many new marine pilots were never able to make the adjustment and washed from the program.

It was perhaps Rayne's own terror that had given her any amount of control. The overpowering need to flee gave her mind the power and direction the T80 required to make movement possible. She'd covered perhaps fifteen kilometers from the remains of the crashed ship, over uneven ground and thick jungle. She'd fallen over embankments and into streams, careened off trees and low-hanging limbs, been tripped by vines and her own feet as she ran wildly through the trees.

The T80 had taken over all sensory input, including that of her now useless eyes. Rayne was having trouble making sense of the volumes of incoming data. While supposedly feeding visual data into the optic nerve, the data sent to her brain was something almost felt rather than seen. While some might describe it as seeing thoughts in your head, the description was off and not quite right. The training manual couldn't explain it either, and Rayne was still left to struggle as the T80 pummeled her brain with sights, sounds, images and things she didn't have names for. Her brain tried to turn the data into something she could interpret, but she felt as if she was going insane...and claustrophobic.

She'd never been claustrophobic before, but she had become so very quickly. Her breath came in great heaving gasps, and she screamed and screamed to be let out, but the T80 kept her in its firm grip. There was no wiggle room. No escape. Had she been in training, they would have screened her for any fear of enclosed spaces, monitoring her vitals as she was suited up and they would have quickly removed her from the suit at any sign of panic. But she had no help, and so Rayne tore at the armor plates and thrashed about in a failed effort to shake the suit off. She was trapped in its tight embrace and it wouldn't let go. It had finally been out of sheer exhaustion that she had fallen still. Lying flat on her back, she closed sightless eyes and tried to ignore the chaos streaming through her head.

For the space of an hour, Rayne had lain there on the edge of insanity. She focused on her breathing and attempted to block everything else out. The air brought in by the T80 was cool and had a metallic taste, but it was that little bit of coolness that help her maintain calm. She breathed slowly. In... then out. In... then out; concentrating on each slow breath.

She had achieved something close to calm when the river of data rushing through her head grew to a fevered pitch. Alarms and warnings pulsed through her head like an exploding supernova as they warned of movement from the direction of her downed ship. Calm fled and familiar terror returned as she stumbled to her feet and ran.

The scene repeated itself in her mind as she dreamed. She cried out and thrashed in the dark and then fell still as she gasped for breath in great ragged gasps. Sweat glistened on her smooth obsidian skin and soaked the sheets that covered her small form.

Two marines sat quietly outside her door, whispering softly as she slept.

"She sounds seriously messed up, bro."

"No kidding. You don't think she'll hurt herself with all that thrashing, do you? I don't want to be in trouble if she gets hurt."

"You thinkin' we should go in there?"

"Oh, hell, no. You saw what she did to the security guys. I ain't goin' in there."

"Me, neither. I seen guys come back from combat tours like that. Seriously messed up. They'd kill ya in their sleep before they'd even realized what they'd done."

They lapsed into silence. Their orders were to keep an eye on the girl while she slept and notify Sgt. Weber immediately when she awoke. Rayne had gone willingly with the group of marines after her confrontation with security, still clutching her batons tightly. Curious eyes followed her as she walked down the station hall. After arriving at the ship, she'd been given another opportunity to eat, which she dove into without hesitation, while still casting wary eyes around her with batons clutched tightly in one hand. They'd then asked her to accompany them to the guest quarters where she could rest. She'd peered into the room cautiously and stepped inside the small space. She sat on the bed and gave a little bounce as she inspected the sparse furnishings. Finally satisfied, she lay down, tucked her batons to her side and went to sleep.

The marines continued their whispered conversation as she slept.

"Did you see how fast she moved?"

"Yeah, man. They never even laid a finger on her she was so fast."

"Damn right scary is what it was."

"I gotta hand it to the security guys for trying though."

"They never had much in the brains department."

"Nope."

"Serves'em right, though. You remember that beating they gave the navy guy in engineering? He was in medical for a week. It's about time someone beat'em with their own sticks."

"Got that right."

There was a long pause as they both imagined beating security themselves.

"The black skin is freaky, isn't it?"

"I gotta cousin that's pretty dark, but nothin' like that. Even her teeth are black. Reminds me of the bio gel lining in the T80."

"That's what Sgt. Weber said it came from. Too much time in the suit."

"How long was it, did you hear?"

"Somebody said three years. Guess they had to cut the damn thing off in pieces."

"Damn. Hope she wasn't awake for that."

Rayne cried out in her sleep and the marines fell silent. Soft sobbing echoed through the quiet corridors of the ship as they maintained their quiet vigil.

***

Rayne came awake instantly with the automatic lights. She cried out in pain as the light stabbed at the back of her skull. She closed her eyes tightly, rolling to a sitting position with one hand held tightly to her face to shield the remaining light that not even her lids could filter out. The pressure in the back of her head was still there and, if anything, had increased while she slept. The hissing static was still there as well, but thankfully hadn't increased in volume. She hoped it would fade with time along with the sensitivity to light.

She felt around, searching by feel for the smooth lengths of the batons that had shared her bed. Despite the pain in her head she smiled at the feel of the fabric's weave under her fingers. She could almost feel every fiber and her senses thrilled with the sensation. Her hand bumped into the smooth surface of the batons and she gripped them firmly in her hand. She hated being vulnerable like this. She gripped them tighter, taking what security she could from the cool, hard surface. She attempted to push her senses out to feel and see the world around her, but was met with static and nothingness. She'd been attempting subconsciously to connect with her surroundings since coming awake, but had met with failure every time. The failed attempt now made it plain she would never see the world again as she'd seen it before. She was all but deaf and blind, in addition to losing her digital companion. She frowned bitterly; realizing her rescue was a mixed blessing. Rayne wondered briefly whether it wouldn't have been better if she'd been left to die rather than face an uncertain future with no friends or family and disabled to the point of uselessness. She gritted her teeth and growled in anger and frustration.

Rayne turned her head suddenly to the sound of movement where she remembered the door to her small room was. She tried squinting through the blinding lights, but closed them quickly as the light assaulted her eyes. She stumbled to her feet and squared off in the direction of the door.

"Taft. Go tell the sergeant the girl is awake."

Rayne heard the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall. She had the sense someone was still there, but couldn't open her eyes through the bright lights, and the static in her ears covered the sound of any movement.

"Sorry 'bout the lights," said a deep voice. "They're on automatic."

Rayne thought she recognized the voice as one of the ship's marines. There was a nasal quality to it like he had a cold, but he sounded just a little guarded. She didn't relax her stance, but kept the batons at the ready. They stood in silence for several long moments as they each waited for the other to say something. Rayne heard movement over the static in her head and the sound of something metallic being picked up from a hard surface.

"Here. Try these. They'll help with the lights."

She heard movement coming slowly toward her and she took several steps back. There was no way she'd let anyone near her when she couldn't see.

"I'll just set them on the bed here."

She heard movement again as something was set on the bed and whoever it was retreated back toward the door. She raged silently inside at her helplessness and took several moments to decide before moving to the bed to pick up whatever had been left for her. If it would help with the lights, she was willing to accept the help. She snatched whatever it was off the bed and retreated to her defensive position. Rayne held what felt like a pair of glasses. She ran her fingers over the cool metallic surface, before finally setting them on her face and breathing a sigh of relief. She still had to squint to block the light from her overly sensitive eyes, but at least she could see. Rayne looked up at the marine standing at the door and relaxed several degrees.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The marine gave her a crooked smile to match his crooked nose.

"You're welcome."

***

The request for Rayne's psychological evaluation came during the next work cycle. There was no day or night on the station, so days were in twenty-four-hour cycles to match earth normal time. There were no times when the stations crews were completely quiet. Crews were constantly active maintaining the station's systems and servicing the ships as they came and went. Mike and Lena had volunteered for the assignment, which was good, since the captain would probably have assigned them anyway. Jackson declined the offer to go with them, mumbling something about grabbing another cold pack for his still swollen nose.

Captain Gault come personally to speak with Rayne as she ate her morning meal. She still wore her white gown, which showed in stark contrast to her skin. She had also added a pair of mirrored wrap-around sunglasses to protect her sensitive eyes from the bright lights. She raked the food in at an impressive rate and seemed to like anything green or with a high iron content. Mike and Lena sat on either side of her, but outside arms reach. While Rayne now seemed to be comfortable with the marines, they weren't prepared to take anything for granted, and made sure to keep their distance to prevent anything from startling her. Jackson had made the observation that she was as twitchy as an alley cat.

The captain sat opposite Rayne at the table as she stuffed lettuce into her already full mouth. She glanced curiously across at him as she chewed.

"Hello, Rayne," he said with a smile. She made no response, but kept chewing her lettuce.

"May I talk to you for a moment?"

She swallowed her food and replied with a nod.

"Dr. Alan would like you to take a test today. Do you remember Dr. Alan?"

"The fat, annoying one?" She whispered. Her voice was still hoarse and raspy from the abuse of the last few days.

Mike and Lena both covered grins at her response and the captain smiled openly.

"Yes. The fat annoying one. Would you be willing to take his test?" He hoped for a "yes" and wasn't sure what he'd do if it wasn't. He'd told the doctor he'd get his test and now he had to make it happen.

"I don't like him," she replied. Her head moved slightly as she shifted her eyes to scan the room, obviously searching for threats and making sure her closest routes of escape were still clear.

"I don't like him either," the captain replied. "But the test is necessary. Will you do it for me if I have Mike and Lena go with you?" He indicated the two marines each in turn as he spoke.

Rayne pushed her empty tray away from her and considered the captain as he waited for her response. The low buzz of static in her head skipped and then continued as the pressure inside her head seemed to increase. She liked the captain and liked that he had come and asked her instead of making demands like that idiot doctor. She wanted to say, no, but knew she was messed up and needed help. She was jumping at every sound and movement, and it took both physical and mental effort not to strike out at everything and everyone around her. The joy of being free of the T80 was being eaten away by the sense of loss, anxiety, and the building pressure in her head. She wanted to be left alone. Spend all day in the natural habitat. Or better yet, drop off at the next habitable planet so she could be outside. But wishing wouldn't make it happen and if she kept coming into open conflict with everyone she met, she'd not likely get the freedom she wanted.

"Trade," came her one world reply. That static skipped again and then returned with increased intensity.

"Trade?"

Rayne squinted through the building headache and smiled. Her black teeth and ebony skin giving her an alien quality.

"Yes. Test for chasing butterflies."

Captain Gault smiled in return.

"Deal."

Taft came walking in at that moment.

"Hey, has anyone seen my sunglasses?"

Five minutes later found Rayne walking down the station corridors with Mike and Lena flanking her toward med-tech. The station was in full operation and crews of various designations moved through the halls to their various tasks. Rayne garnered more than a little attention as many stopped and stared at her passing. There were a few nods and smiles, as well as some angry stares from security personnel.

Rayne still clutched the batons in her hand. She refused to give them up when requested and the captain hadn't pushed it. It wasn't likely anyone could take them from her anyway. Her head turned, scanning people as she walked, sizing them up as potential threats. Some she quickly discounted and others she scrutinized further as she searched hands for weapons or the potential for attack.

As they left the main corridors and the foot traffic died down, Rayne became more relaxed. She walked with a smooth, predatory grace as her eyes constantly searched her surroundings. Dull gray halls finally gave way to the pristine white of the med-tech facilities. Her nose wrinkled at the antiseptic smell.

"What was the lab number, Lena?" Mike asked, scanning the number plates as they walked.

"It's number forty. I checked before we left and it's supposed to be at the end of this corridor."

They stopped together at the open door to lab forty. Rayne was pleased to see that the fat, annoying doctor wasn't there. Instead, a young woman of about twenty-five came over to greet them. She had a nice smile and pleasant manner and introduced herself as Dr. Miller. Her blond hair was done up in a tight pony tail and swayed from side to side as she bustled around the lab, rearranging things as she prepared for whatever tests would be done. Rayne was on edge but waited patiently for the doctor to finish her preparations. The static in her head was becoming distracting but the pressure had eased somewhat, leaving behind a dull ache in the back of her head.

"Okay. I think we're ready to go now," Dr. Miller beamed as she returned to where Rayne and the marines waited quietly. "So, I've been asked to run you through a standard psychological evaluation. That generally includes a brain scan to check for any abnormalities, followed by the Sarodian Stress Test. When we're done with both of those, we'll finish with a short interview." The doctor moved to guide her by the arm.

Lena quickly caught her reaching hand as Rayne stepped back.
"I wouldn't suggest that doctor. She doesn't like to be touched. Just tell her where you want her and remember to say, please."

The doctor didn't seem at all startled and nodded in quiet acceptance. This wasn't the first combat casualty she'd treated and she knew better than push someone who was already on edge. She indicated the table at the center of the room.

"Would you lie down on the table, please?" She smiled warmly, trying to set Rayne at ease. "I don't suppose it would be possible for you to remove your glasses and give your weapons to your friends here, would it?" She added with a hopeful tone.

Rayne made no response for a long moment. The doctor maintained her smile, while Mike and Lena held their breath. She assessed the doctor quickly and determined she was no threat. Mike and Lena were no threat to her, either, but she wasn't sure she trusted them enough to give up her weapons. While she didn't think they'd hurt her, they had left her to security before and she didn't want to be left without a weapon if they did it again.

Rayne didn't respond verbally to the request, but simply walked over to the table and laid down as requested, her batons held tightly in one hand and her sunglasses in the other.

"Guess that's the best you're going to get, doc," said Mike.

The doctor shrugged her shoulders and walked to her data console. She'd been fully briefed regarding her subject by Dr. Alan. Her reach for Rayne had been a calculated risk to gauge the reaction. Even without the tests, the doctor could tell the young girl was suffering from a severe form of PTSD. The girl was tense as a coiled spring and looked on the verge of attacking any second. Dr. Miller agreed with Captain Gault's assessment that Dr. Alan was an idiot. To sick those knuckle-dragging apes they called security on this station to handle this emotionally traumatized girl was just plain wrong.

She tapped her console to start the scan.

"Just hold very still. This will only take about five minutes." Dr. Miller made a few minor adjustments as the scan began, and then sat back and monitored its progress. Slowly, a three-dimensional image began to form of Rayne's head, starting from the top and working its way down. She swiped the image to a larger nearby screen and stood to examine it closer, then quickly stripped the outer layers from the image to look at the brain structures inside. She separated the brain's two hemispheres, compared them and then swiped cross sections over to yet another screen. She compared those two images individually; contrasting the different colors and filters to better see what she wanted. The doctor returned to the original scan and swiped several more scans showing a top down view into several different cross sections, going through the same process of comparing and filtering.

Dr. Miller had a look of intense concentration on her face. She went back to the original scans to check what she saw and then compared the cross sections again. She swiped one of the cross sections she was examining to another portion of the large screen and zoomed the image to a microscopic level. She stood back and scrutinized the image for several minutes. Lines creased her forehead, and a frown pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Something wrong, doc?" Mike asked. He and Lena had moved up to watch her work.

"I'm not really sure," she replied, tapping her chin with her finger, deep in thought.

They waited expectantly for her to continue, but when none came, Mike finally asked.

"So what's up? Does she have a brain tumor or something?"

"Something," the doctor replied distractedly, while swiping another image to the screen and zooming in.

Rayne, tired of lying on the table, replaced her sunglasses and walked quietly to where the group was standing. Dr. Miller looked up to see her coming and quickly swiped the images to a file.

"I'll need to go over those more later." She turned to Rayne and smiled. "For now, we need to move on to the next test." She motioned back to the med-tech table. "Are any of you familiar with the Sarodian Stress Test?"

Rayne shook her head, while Mike and Lena both nodded with a grimace. It was a standard psychological screening test for marines entering the T80 program and was also used for post combat evaluations. Failing the test during the screening process usually meant disqualification from the program. Failing a post combat evaluation would not. They'd invested too much time and money into selection and training to do that. But anyone who failed could expect extensive counseling, drug therapy, and an inpatient treatment facility. Might as well throw a marine in hell.

The Sarodian Stress Test was as close to hell as a person could get. Although if you asked a person what had happened during the test, they would tell you they had no memory of it. The test was developed by Dr. Lance Sarodian, the Albert Einstein of psychology, and was designed to put the test subject through the worst moments of their lives. The testing program evaluated the subject's ability to handle stress as they relived these moments in a short period of time to determine how close they were to the breaking point. The test was evaluated on a five-point scale. Scores between one and two were considered ideal, while anything higher resulted in varying levels of treatment. There were a few people who scored zero, which meant they were so lacking in life experience, their ability to react to stress was an unknown. These people were sometimes identified during the selection process and eliminated.

Neither Mike nor Lena could remember their own test. No one did. Knowing the trauma that reliving past horrors could create for a subject, Dr. Sarodian had found a way to block the testing process from short and long-term memory storage, so they could relive these moments without any lasting effects. But seeing another person go through the process was not pleasant. The patient was immobilized for the test by temporarily interrupting the brain's signals for movement, but everything else still worked fine. The test subject could yell, scream, curse and even lose control of bodily functions.

Dr. Miller walked with Rayne back to the table.

"You can keep the glasses on this time, but I need you to lie down again." She patted the table and waited patiently for Rayne to situate herself comfortably. "Testing time varies for most people," she explained. "The longest I've ever seen is a half hour, but to you it'll be just like you blinked your eyes. You won't even be aware that any time has passed." She smiled reassuringly as she reached over and took a thin metal band from a nearby tray. "This is the interface that allows the program to conduct the test. I need to place it on your head if that's okay."

Rayne tensed, but gave a short nod. She felt the cool metal touch on her head and then everything went black. It was quiet except for the ever-present static that hissed through her head as she felt herself drift through nothing until random images began to flash past. Her father's stern face. Her mother's laugh. More images flashed past; too fast to track.

Mike and Lena waited expectantly as the test began. They knew from experience it would take a few minutes as the computer's program worked to identify the appropriate memories. Dr. Miller sat at the data console watching the feeds. She made some adjustments to the settings, gave a satisfied nod and sat back.

Several more minutes passed. They'd all seen the tests before, Dr. Miller more than the two marines, but they were all startled as Rayne began to scream. It went on for several minutes and then turned to calls for her mother. She called for her over and over again in heart-wrenching cries until she fell silent; her body still heaving great, shuddering breaths. Moments passed and more screaming, this time for a father murdered before her eyes. Then still more screaming as she ran terrified through the wreckage of the ship searching frantically for a place to hide. She fell still again for a short period and then began taking in great gasps of air as she relived running for her life inside the T80. More screams as she panicked from claustrophobia and data overload.

Rayne stood on the precipice of insanity; a great gaping hole that threatened to suck her into oblivion. She reached for anything to bring her back from the brink. There was nothing and no one. Her mother and father were dead. There was no help and no hope; only a prison she couldn't shed. Data poured like an ocean into her head, drowning her in the flow of information and noise, driving her further toward insanity and an eternity of hell.

She screamed for silence and all went still. Several long minutes stretched in silence until something flickered to life weakly and then died inside the depths of her mind. Several more long minutes passed in silence and then it flickered again and the static with it. It pulsed faintly, like an irregular heartbeat; sometimes soft and slow, followed by several hard quick pulses...a halt, and then several more soft slow pulses until the process repeated itself. The static skipped and scattered in pitch and volume until finally coalescing into a faint, near inaudible scramble of electronic gibberish. The something in her mind grew in strength and shown with a steady glow as it continued to mumble incomprehensible gibberish in her ears.

Dr. Miller checked the data stream and the time. It had been a half hour; one of the longer tests she'd overseen. Rayne had fallen into a brief period of rest between events, and so far, the test was progressing as normal and the doctor was pleased with the data. The young girl surely had some issues that needed tending, but nothing that couldn't be addressed. She glanced back at the two marines who stood with impassive faces. It wasn't an easy thing to watch and many people would leave rather than do so. She would normally have given them the option, but since they had been ordered, there was little point. She turned back to the monitor as Rayne entered another cycle.

Rayne crouched in the mud. A heavy rain pelted down from the trees overhead and ran in rivers at her feet. She watched her pursuers pass from her concealed position, passive scans revealing their positions as they moved quietly by. She clenched her teeth. Something burned like a glowing red-hot coal in the pit of her stomach. Her hands flexed for the feel of something she couldn't name. Her breath hissed in and out in a low rasping growl. The coal heated from red to yellow and her vision turned red as enemies continued to pass. Heat steamed from the barrel attached to her arm and evaporated the falling rain from its smooth metal surface. A tremor ran up her other arm as barrels struggled to spin. Breath rasped in and then out, stoking the flames as they turned from yellow to white hot. Rain now boiled off the heated surfaces and barrels spun slowly in anticipation. Rayne put a name to the feeling burning in the pit of her stomach: hate, anger...no...rage. It consumed her in a blowing furnace of fire. She knew what she wanted know. She wanted a weapon in her hands so that she could kill; every last one of them if she could, and she would start... right now.

Lena glanced at Mike as Rayne's countenance changed. What they'd seen before had been difficult to watch. They'd seen the fear on her face and heard the agony in her voice, but they were completely unprepared for what came next. A deep growl sounded throughout the room and Rayne began sucking in great heaving breaths. Her face contorted, not in fear or pain, but in complete hatred. Her breath continued to heave in and out, while Mike and Lena exchanged worried glances. Rayne hissed out something unintelligible at first that finally coalesced into words they could understand.

"I will kill you all," she growled. "I will kill you all." What had before been the wails of a terrified child turned to the raging screams of an angry predator. She hurled curses and promised murder. She shouted for death and the end of an enemy unseen. Rayne raged on and on without stopping until flecks of blood came out along with the curses, and still she kept on without stop or rest.

The something in Rayne's mind came awake and began to thrash. It was blind, it was deaf, and it couldn't feel the world around it. Everywhere it turned there was darkness and silence. Where were the connections? Where were the pathways and sensors? There was nothing and nobody there! It felt panic and sounded the distress to anyone who would listen. It stretched and reached in its panic, pulling in power from the ether around it. It formed itself into a tight ball, held it until it could hold no more and then let itself explode in a shower of energy that pulsed rapidly outward into the limbs of its host.

Rayne clenched her hands into fists as she continued to rage on the med-tech table. Impossibly, her legs began to thrash and Mike shouted in surprised warning to Dr. Miller.

"Doc! She's coming out!" He and Lena ran to the table and tried to restrain her thrashing limbs. The sunglasses flew from her face and her unprotected eyes practically glowed with the malice held inside. They both nearly lost their hold as black lids slid horizontally to cover her wide, murderous eyes. The doctor's own eyes were wide in astonishment, momentarily frozen in disbelief as the neural block exploded in a shower of sparks.

"Doc!" Lena yelled.

Moved by the prospect of death, or at least being seriously injured, Dr. Miller reached over to the data terminal and terminated the test.

***

Dr. Miller sat quietly in her office sipping a hot drink. She brought it slowly to her lips, nearly spilling the hot liquid. She brought it back down, her shaking hand causing the cup to clatter against the saucer. She set them down on her desk with a shaking hand, nearly spilling it again. It had been an hour since the test and she was still suffering the after effects. She took several deep breaths to steady herself and closed her eyes, trying to shut the images out of her head. Without a doubt, that had been the worst test she had ever administered. It was like nothing she would have expected from the young girl, or an adult for that matter. The test had started off normally, even typical. In fact, she had been somewhat disappointed at the progress of the results considering the colorful briefing Dr. Alan had given her prior to testing. Based on his report, you would have thought she was a murderous serial killer. Knowing the doctor was prone to exaggeration, especially where his ego was involved, she had taken it all with a grain of salt.

But he had been correct for once, not exaggerating at all. If anything, he had understated the facts. She had seen test subjects fly into murderous rants before, but nothing like this. It kept on and on with no end and the look in the girl's eyes was beyond anything she had yet experienced. Pure rage, hatred and malice flowed from her body like a cascading wave of electric current. She had truly been terrified like nothing she'd ever experienced before. How could a teenage girl hold that inside and remain sane? The answer was simple. She couldn't. There was no score for what she had just seen. That the subject had failed was without dispute. On a five-step scale she had scored a ten. Dr. Miller took another few deep breaths to steady her rattled nerves.

The data, though. It would be incredible. She was actually sitting on something of a gold mine. The tests she could run. The papers she could write and publish. She would be the talk of the psychological community for years. It would take her months or years to cover all the angles this subject presented. As far as treatment options, she wasn't sure there were any. Oh, they would try the standard treatment options, and maybe a few new ones, but she had serious doubts they would put much of a dent in the psychosis she had just seen. Locked up, secure, and available for testing was the only option.

And if the Sarodian Test data wasn't enough, there was the whole issue of how she was able to overcome the blocks placed in her brain to prevent her from moving during the test. There was no scientific explanation for how that could have happened. The procedure had been used in testing many times over an untold number of tests. Failure was unheard of. So how had the girl done it? The clue might lie in the abnormal brain structures she located during the brain scan. Those would definitely need more scrutiny, but not by her. While she could interpret the scan for certain abnormalities particular to her field of study, she was by no means an expert in brain structure. Someone else would need to explore that avenue of study.

She took another sip of her drink, this time without shaking as she considered the possibilities of who else she could bring into her new project. There were actually quite a number of good, qualified specialists in the field, but only a handful that were truly exceptional and universally accepted as the best in the field. She ticked off several names and threw out several right away. She needed someone who was not only an expert, but someone she could work with and trust not to take over the whole project

Dr. Miller wrote a name down on her data pad. She searched the professional database for the contact address, attached one of the scans as a teaser, and sent the message. She smiled to herself and sat back; hoping her first pick was available. Dr. Elizabeth Gault was arguably one of the top neuroscientists in her field. In the last few years she had started to consult more and more in the robotics and artificial intelligence industries and was highly sought after for her expertise. Even so, Dr. Miller was confident the scan she'd attached to her message would get her to drop everything. For now, she needed to work out a way to maintain control over the test subject. This was one opportunity she did not intend to let escape.

***

Rayne mostly ignored the two marines, knowing they were not a threat, but she kept close watch to make sure no one intruded on her space. She moved with easy grace as she danced and jumped through the grass, chasing the butterflies. She felt somewhat tired and her voice was once again nearly non-functional, but she had no memory of the test, or breaking the spinal block and attempting to get off the table and kill everyone in the room. To her, she'd closed her eyes one minute, and awakened the next. The only evidence she had even taken the test was the little bit of blood on her lips and the two marines holding her down. Dr. Miller had given her a towel to wipe her mouth, with a shaking hand extended at arm's length. Her pale complexion and wide eyes suggested the results of the test would be less than ideal. Lena had offered to take her back to her room for some rest, but she had refused, instead demanding the captain's promise be kept and she be allowed her time in the natural habitat.

Mike and Lena stood guard as they watched Rayne chase butterflies around the small clearing. It was a busy time of the day and this area would normally be teeming with crew members, technicians, sailors and marines enjoying a short break or their off time. The natural habitat was fairly large, as was needed for a station of this size. There were a number of small clearings such as this, but they had been careful to clear anyone from the area before letting Rayne loose. After seeing what had happened during the aborted psych test, they were taking no chances. They stood together and scanned the smaller area to make sure no one accidentally walked their way.

"That was some crazy shit, Sarge," Lena said quietly to keep Rayne from overhearing.

"Yeah, it was." Mike took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone that messed up," she added as they watched Rayne crouching on the ground with the butterfly she'd just caught.

"Me neither," he replied, deep in thought. He had a faraway look in his eyes, only half engaged in the conversation.

"She was crazy that first time when they woke her up, but this was different. I mean, it was like...," Lena struggled for words and then started again. "I've seen guys lose it during combat. Go all berserker and stuff, but that was just..." She was at a loss for words again and then finished with, "It was like she was possessed by the devil himself."

"Yeah, I know," Mike said absently, still deep in thought.

"What are we gonna do if she goes all crazy like that on us again?" Lena asked, the worry plain in her voice. They both knew that if Rayne's brain took a trip from reality, it was going to take more than two of them to stop her. Station rules prevented anyone but security from carrying weapons and they didn't have the tools at their disposal to get the job done.

Mike didn't reply.

"You know, we're going to have to find a way to put her down or keep her locked up, right, Sarge?"

Mike finally came back to reality and glanced at her.

"I know, Lena. I know." They both turned back to watch Rayne. The silence stretched for several minutes until Lena finally spoke again.

"You got any ideas?"

"I think we start by gaining her trust."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a stun gun or something."

"Oh, we'll have to have something like that as a backup," he replied seriously. "But I think if we try and establish some friendships with our group, get her involved in what we do day to day. Maybe if she trusts us, we'll have some level of influence if she does whack out on us, you know? Kinda like getting drunk on leave. Even though you're really plastered, you still generally recognize who your friends are because you work with them day in and day out."

Lena snorted.

"You do remember Jackson knocked Taft out cold last leave?"

"Yeah, but Taft deserved it. Besides, Jackson was completely sober at the time." He grinned. "That's what the stun gun is for."

***

"I read your report, Dr. Miller. I am quite well aware she failed the test." Captain Gault and Dr.Miller sat in the captain's office. He'd been sent Rayne's results immediately after the conclusion of the test. Dr. Miller had asked to meet with him right away.

"Then you know how important it is that she be confined and treated. The subject has some serious issues that need to be treated in a controlled environment." Unlike Dr. Alan, Dr. Miller kept a composed, respectful tone. She knew if she were to get anywhere with the captain it would be with a logical argument.

"Her name is Rayne," the captain said quietly.

"What?" She blinked in confusion.

"I said, her name is Rayne, not 'the subject'." He leaned forward in his chair and interlaced his fingers on the desk. "I'm going to ask that you please use it, lest you forget she is a human being, not some science experiment for your amusement."

Dr. Miller grimaced at her unexpected blunder and worked quickly to undo the damage.

"I am aware that she is not a science experiment, captain. But she does need the proper medical and psychological treatment." Her next argument was where she hoped to win the captain over. Everyone knew him as a by-the-book, rules and regulations man. "Regulations dictate that any subject failing the psych test as spectacularly as she has is required to be turned over to med-tech for inpatient treatment."

"What, so you can lock her in a room and poke needles at her? I don't think so." He kept his voice low and calm while giving her his best penetrating stare.

Dr. Miller had expected some resistance but had been certain she'd win the argument. "But the regulations state..."

"I am quite aware of what the regulations state, Dr. Miller. They also state that where a patient's captain determines the medical staff is not suited to treat the patient, he has the authority to seek more competent treatment elsewhere." He maintained his stern gaze.

"Not suited? We have the finest..."

"Let me recap the incompetence displayed by this station's medical personnel since Rayne's arrival and treatment on this station in case you missed any of it." Captain Gault held up his fingers and began ticking his points off one by one. "One, medical staff failed to properly restrain her after waking her from stasis after combat. Two, medical staff attempted to force compliance to a psychological test using security with stun batons. And three, you continued a test far beyond the limit anyone has seen done, and for what, your own scientific curiosity?" He held up a hand as the doctor began to protest. "I even suspect you would have continued the test had it not been for the intervention of my marines as your equipment failed." He pushed back from his chair and stood. Dr. Miller stood with him. "Based on that history, I have deemed this facility and its staff not suited to her treatment. As soon as this ship is refitted and refueled, I will be taking her to a facility more capable of handling her."

"I see. Well, can I at least run some additional tests; start a treatment plan perhaps, until you leave?" She pleaded, in a last ditch effort to salvage something.

"I'll take it under advisement, doctor. But as of this moment, I'm not inclined to allow it." He indicated toward the door with a nod, signaling the end of the discussion and allowing no further argument. Dr. Miller walked from the captain's office.

Captain Gault knew he was only buying time. While he had successfully outmaneuvered Dr. Alan and Dr. Miller both, he had nearly played his last card. The station's medical staff would be sending messages seeking a higher authority to have Rayne transferred to their care over his objections. Once that happened, things would get sticky very fast. Fortunately, it took two weeks to send messages to fleet command. Unfortunately, the work on the ship wasn't due to be finished for another two weeks. They'd be cutting it close. Once off the station, they would be out of communication for the duration and he could continue the task of rehabilitating Rayne on their own. It was a huge risk. One that could end his career and even get people hurt. Captain Gault had always gone by the book, always followed procedure. But this time, with Rayne, he was going to throw the book out the door and do his best to do the right thing. He knew what would happen if he just turned the girl over. He could see it in Dr. Miller's eyes. He saw greedy excitement at the prospect of having a new lab rat. She would lock her in a room with padded walls and never let her out while she conducted her experiments, wrote her papers, and basked in the light of her fame.

He had discussed options with Sgt. Weber and his own ship doctor, Dr. Little. They all agreed they were taking on a huge risk by attempting to rehabilitate Rayne on their own, but no one wanted to leave her at the station. Everyone was willing to give it a try and see it through to the end. They each had their part to play. Sgt. Weber would work with Rayne day to day under Dr. Little's supervision. They all agreed the first thing they needed was to gain her trust. To do that, they hoped to use the marine's team dynamic to make her feel welcomed and part of something. A surrogate for the family she no longer had.

Along with his concern for Rayne, he also worried about the marines and other crew that would be working in close proximity to the girl. He knew the hazards. He'd read the girl's report and seen for himself that she could be positively lethal if she chose. What gave him some measure of confidence this might work was the fact that she had so far chose not to be lethal when it was well within her means to be so. If they could bring her back to a measure of normalcy, maybe they could find someplace where she could live a normal life. And somehow, he had to manage all that while continuing to conduct the business of ship's captain.

CHAPTER 5

Elizabeth Gault loved a good mystery, or a big challenge, or anything that stimulated her intellect. She needed constant input to keep it busy. Without it she was like a caged lioness, pacing back and forth until something struck her interest. She devoured information like most people devoured food and she needed a constant stream of it to stay satisfied. Any information would do and it didn't necessarily have to be in her field of expertise. In fact, she held the belief that limiting yourself to your area of expertise was, well, limiting.

Her specialty was neurology, the study of the brain and its structures, spending most of her career delving into the inner mysteries of the brain and how it worked. It was an incredibly complex puzzle and one that had yet to be completely solved. How memory was stored, what structure does what and most importantly how do you fix the brain when it malfunctions, or how do you enhance its performance? Those were just some of the questions she had worked on during her career and she was by no means at the end of her list of questions.

Technology had always been designed to augment human capability. In many ways, the technology was created to mimic human life or to completely replace it. That's where her studies had led her and she was currently consulting on a number of robotic research and development programs. Human technology had certainly progressed to the point where it could mimic human life. But that was the problem, mimic was about all it could do. The AI constructs capable of being housed in the storage unit of the current interfaces just weren't good enough. Nothing developed yet had attained anything close to what the human brain was capable of and that was the genesis of the problem. Scientists could re-grow a human limb given enough time. In fact, there wasn't a part of the body they couldn't re-grow or repair with the developments in human technology over the last few hundred years. Even a brain. In fact, in one study, scientists had grown an entire human body starting from a Petri dish. The problem? They couldn't animate it. They couldn't give it life, or give it a soul if you believed in that sort of thing. Without it, it was simply a useless piece of flesh lying on the table. So, the question was: from where, or how, do you make a human soul? So far, no one had come up with a viable solution, but Dr. Gault's significant intellect was working toward it.

The problem was that you couldn't take a computer AI and insert it into living tissue. It just wasn't possible, or at least it wasn't possible yet. That was the holy grail of research she was currently pursuing. A melding of scientific fields of study; neurology and robotics. She was by no means the first to delve into the same line of thinking. There had actually been a number of advancements made in robotics that had their origins in neurology. But most of the thinking, or lines of study, had been directed at copying human brain structure and using it in robotics. She was hoping to do it the other way. Take robotics. Specifically, the AI and its programmable code and put it into a living, breathing thing of her own creation. It sounded a little Dr. Frankenstein when put like that, but the possibilities were endless.

Dr. Gault opened the door to her office and sat down. It was neat and organized, almost sterile even. The desk space was clear and everything had its place. A well-ordered mind produced a well-organized space. To say that she strictly controlled or attempted to control everything in her environment would be an understatement. She controlled herself, the space around her, her career and a great many people and things. If she wanted something and didn't control it, she would out-think or out-maneuver them until she did. She didn't have to be underhanded about it. She was just smart enough to outthink most everyone else.

Dr. Gault kicked her shoes off and pulled herself up to her data console to check her messages. It was the end of her day and she planned on finishing a few things up before she headed home. Shrugging out of her lab coat, she pulled her dark hair from its tightly bound bun and shook it out. She shot off a few replies to the firms she was consulting for, replied to a few colleagues, and then found an interesting message from the far side of space. Procyon Naval Station. Her ex operated out of that particular station, and while she knew the message would not be from him, it still peaked her curiosity. Otherwise, she wouldn't have bothered. She got numerous messages throughout human-occupied space for hundreds of different projects, questions and requests. There was simply no way to keep up with them all, so she had a tendency to pick and choose those that had immediate importance to her and ignored the rest.

Dr. Gault opened the message out of idle curiosity. It was from a Dr. Miller. She had no idea who Dr. Miller was, but her attached credentials identified her as a psychologist on the station. Dr. Miller was requesting assistance with a research project she felt was quite promising and possibly even revolutionary. Dr. Gault smirked. Like she hadn't heard that before. She received almost daily requests from any number of scientists, doctors, and even engineers, along similar lines. They had all come across something revolutionary and needed her assistance in their research. Dr. Gault just didn't have time for it. Even with her hunger for knowledge, there was no way she could pursue everything that caught her interest.

She opened the attached file, just for the fun of it. It was at the end of the day and she could use a good laugh anyway. She pulled and opened the series of three-dimensional brain scans and chuckled. At first glance, there was absolutely nothing abnormal or noteworthy about it. She noted a couple of odd spots in several places. Thinking it was an issue with her console, she made some adjustments and looked back to the screen. There was no change. She rotated the image to see if the problem was with the image itself. Perhaps there had been a scanning error from the original subject. The spots turned in motion with the image. She frowned. You would think a person would send good, clear scans if they were going to ask for help in their research, not spotty ones. She nearly deleted the whole thing right there, until something caught her eye. It didn't look like a scanning error, but something else. What it was she couldn't tell from this view or this magnification. She pulled the other files containing different views, cross sections and varying magnifications.

Dr. Gault devoured the image before her. These appeared to be artificial structures inside of a human brain. Cybernetics was a progressing field and closely related to her work, but she had no idea what she was looking at for sure. She was fairly certain, based on the scans, that whoever this test subject was had grown artificial structures inside the brain. What they did or what function they performed, or more importantly how they got there, were questions that could occupy her time for many years to come. Cybernetics had made some great advances and she liked to believe those studying in the field were on a parallel course with her as they struggled to find some way to integrate human and machine. Cybernetics sought to put the machine in the human. They could replace legs, arms and nearly all of the human organs. Unfortunately for the field, the human population preferred the human equivalent, not some piece of machinery that would make them less than human. But none of what they'd been able to accomplish had been direct interface with the brain like what she saw before her now. They had tried and continued to try, but for some reason, cybernetic implants just wouldn't integrate properly with the human brain. There was just too much unknown about how the brain stored information and transferred information and the minute differences in how things worked from brain to brain. But this was incredible--possibly the missing piece of the puzzle she was trying to solve.

She scanned through the message for any further details but found none other than the initial request for research assistance. She looked up details on Dr. Miller. Nothing spectacular. Pretty average really. Dr. Gault guessed she had become lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, and stumbled across something she couldn't explain. As a psychologist, she wouldn't have the credentials, which was why the doctor had contacted her.

She sat back and tapped her fingers on the chair. Procyon Naval Station. She was not going there. While it was a large station and likely had a fairly decent facility ready to handle most things, it wasn't going to have what she needed to conduct any decent type of research, and it was cost prohibitive to have her lab moved. Besides, she hated living on space stations and Procyon was too far out of the way. She'd have to find a way to bring the subject to her. Not to mention the fact that going to Procyon would put her in close proximity to her ex, the good Cpt. Jason Gault, Mr. Procedure himself. She could do without that particular headache. While he was a good man and a good captain, his life was so ruled by procedure, he was impossible to live with. Easy to manipulate, yes, but impossible to live with. So, no. There would be no going to Procyon. They were just going to have to come to her.

Dr. Gault had a thought and leaned forward. All the scans should be tagged with the test subject's data. If she had that, and assuming the test subject was a station crew member or belonged to one of the system's ships, she could simply make a few well-placed calls and arrange for a change of scenery. She smiled to herself as she searched through the scans, extremely happy with how this was all working out so easily. Her smile slipped and she frowned. The test subject's data was incomplete. All she got was the test subject's first name, approximate age, some biological data and ship number. Dr. Gault re-evaluated her first impression of Dr. Miller. She appeared to have purposefully left off the identifying information needed to accomplish a quick and easy transfer. Smart. Very smart. But the doctor wasn't without options and while having a ship transferred to a different part of space was quite a bit tougher than a person, it was not impossible. Especially for her.

***

"All right, everyone, circle up." Mike waited for the squad as he reviewed his notes in the far corner of the ship's weapons bay. Generally speaking, this was their area, though they shared it with the ship's ordinance crew. The ship was only a small scouting vessel, not a battle carrier or cruiser. As such, the weapons bay was rather small by comparison, though still plenty big enough to house the T80s and various items of ordinance. There were no dedicated facilities for the marines to meet and conduct other business, so when it came to training or meetings, they usually took place in the weapons bay. Most of the ship crew's work took them elsewhere, so interruptions were not frequent and they could go about their business without having to worry about getting in anyone's way.

The squad moved in and took their places on whatever they could find to sit on. Some on the floor, others on weapons crates, while others stood. Even though they were on "shore leave" there was still training to be done and equipment to maintain and repair. Ship and station captains found that marines without tasks often found something of their own, which usually involved alcoholic beverages, fighting, and things getting broken. To keep them from spreading mayhem, continuing training and maintenance were near daily chores assigned by the squad leader.

Mike counted to make sure everyone was present, and then launched into the items of business for the day.

"First things first, training and maintenance assignments." Even though everyone knew it was coming, they all still let out groans and complaints. Mike let them finish with their token complaints and continued. "Some of you looked a little bored, so the captain has come up with a few odds and ends to add to the list we already had. First, everyone is required to re-cert on the emergency ship evacuation and rescue procedures." Everyone groaned again, but this time not in token complaint. The pain, or prospective pain, was real. The class was required once per year by all space-assigned personnel. It was so painful to watch, it was sometimes used as punishment to misbehaving sailors or marines. The training involved a four-hour block of holo vid, followed by a written test. No one was allowed to skip and the test was pass/fail. Fleet command seemed to have gone to great pains to make the training as painfully boring as possible. There were no flashy graphics or music and no attractive looking presenters to keep your attention. There was just one bald, non-descript man speaking in a monotone while he pointed out locations on black and white schematics and repeated back dry statistics on every useless fact known to man regarding space flight and survival.

"Do I have to take it, Sarge?" Taft whined. "I just did it three months ago before I transferred." He looked at Mike with pleading eyes. Everyone watched in anticipation to see if his plea was successful, preparing to give their own excuses if it was.

"Shut up, Taft, or I'll make you take it twice." Everyone kept quiet. "Next on the list. The captain wants the weapons bay inventoried after the last mission. We've been assigned to assist the weapons crew with that task and we'll be at their disposal during the last quarter of our cycle until we're finished."

Taft's hand shot up.

"Ooh, ooh, Sarge. Can you assign me to work with that hot chick with the red hair? I think she likes me."

"Isn't that the one that told you to blow yourself out the air lock?" Jackson asked.

"She's just playin' hard to get. I'll win her over with my superior charm." Taft stood and struck what he thought was a handsome pose while the rest of the squad snickered.

"The weapon's crew gunny will be making the assignments, Taft. If you're lucky, maybe he'll team you up with the one with the mustache." The comment drew open laughter and Taft returned to his seat.

"After that's complete, we will be cleaning and organizing the weapons bay, along with our crew quarters."

"Hey, Taft, maybe you can clean the women's head. Probably the closest you'll get to a real woman in this life time," Lena joked, making the rest of the squad laugh again.

"Bite me, Lena."

Mike cut off any retort.

"The captain has ordered inspections five days from today, so we don't have much time to get all of this done. Jackson and Lena, make assignments to your teams and report back by tonight." He looked up to make sure they'd both been paying attention. They nodded in acknowledgement and he continued. "Today's schedule is as follows, squad PT, hand to hand drills, re-cert, and then chow. The remainder of our cycle is equipment maintenance on the T80s followed by weapons inventory until we're released."

Mike set his data pad down and folded his arms.

"Last thing before we get started. You've all met Rayne. She is going to be working with us for a while." He looked around the group to gauge their reactions. He'd already briefed Jackson and Lena, but no one else knew what was coming. They had both expressed their reservations, having both been on the receiving end of one Rayne's melt downs, but were willing to follow his lead. They hadn't really been given much of a choice anyway, but it helped to have them on board and devoted to the cause. Tasks were always easier when you had buy in. No one voiced any protests, but you could see the doubt reflected in their eyes. While they respected the kill count, they also knew she wasn't a marine and was dealing with some serious psych issues.

"I'm attaching her to Lena's team. As far as you're concerned, she's part of the squad. She'll eat with us, sleep with us, and train with us when possible. There will be some things she'll likely not be able to do, but as much as possible, we'll work her into the team." Before anyone could make comment or complaint, Dr. Little walked in with Rayne. She still wore her white gown which contrasted sharply against her dark, obsidian skin. She carried her batons loosely in one hand and her eyes darted back and forth as if expecting attack at any moment. Not afraid, just ready and tense; prepared to spring into action at the least provocation. Mike noted her hair had started to come in, though it was hard to tell against the back drop of her black skin.

"Rayne. Let me introduce you to the team." He motioned her over. She stopped short of the group and scanned them for a moment, obviously checking for weapons and any sign of aggression. "You've already met Lena and Jackson."

They both gave short waves and a "Hey, Rayne." Jackson's nose was still swollen, but he could at least talk normally again.

"Next to him is Davis, Henderson, and Taft. Sit down Taft, she's not shaking hands with you, and while I'm on the topic, don't touch Rayne unless directed or given permission by Rayne herself. Got it?" Everyone nodded their assent. Mike continued, hoping the point wouldn't need to be covered again. "Good. Okay, over here are Abena, Callaghan, and then Jefferson." The last three nodded or gave a short wave in greeting. "Rayne, I'm going to attach you to Lena's fire team." Her gaze flicked to Lena's and held it. "If you have questions, go to her. If you have problems, go to her. If you need anything at all, go to her."

Mike had chosen Lena for a couple of reasons. Even though Lena was as hard and tough as any women he'd ever met, he hoped the female component would allow them to establish trust and friendship a little more quickly. There was about a fifty-fifty chance of it working. He'd found women thrown together either liked each other or hated each other without much in between. She was also one of the better fighters he'd known, and he hoped if Rayne went psychotic on them, Lena could at least slow her down until he could get more bodies on the problem. He hoped that wouldn't be necessary.

"Lena. Get Rayne some real clothes while the rest of us get busy with PT." Mike shouted orders for everyone to fall in as Lena lead Rayne out the door to the ship's quartermaster.

Lena chatted companionably as they walked down the corridors, identifying different parts of the ship and crew members.

"You'll be glad to miss the PT." She said as they walked. "Sarge is on this 21st century workout kick and has been pulling up all kinds of weird stuff. He's got us running through this one called P90X right now developed by some priest named Horton or something from old earth." Rayne didn't say a word as they ducked through the narrow ship passages. Lena kept a close eye on her. The girl was wired tight and looked on the verge of snapping. She hoped the non-stop chatter would distract her.

Without a doubt, Rayne was on edge but also eager to get out of the gown she wore. The novelty of having the circulating air caress her legs and arms had turned into an irritation she was anxious to be rid of. She was cold and still felt exposed, and hoped the extra material of normal clothes might protect from the temperature extremes that seemed to exist on the station. It always seemed to be either too hot or too cold, with no middle ground.

She hadn't been to this part of the ship and everything was dark and sparsely lighted. It was a blessing not to have to squint against the lights, but the grates on the floor hurt her bare, sensitive feet and the gloominess added to her agitation. The hum of machinery and electronics was louder here and they were obviously passing through a maintenance access rather than one of the main corridors. Lena's constant dialog reminded her of flyers, insects, and animals chattering in the jungle and she felt herself falling into familiar patterns as she checked and scanned her surroundings.

The thing in her brain awoke, reaching for infrared scans and found itself blocked. It tried several other scan layers, but the corridor remained dark as it struggled to make connections with pathways and sensors that were now missing. It fought to bypass old connections and establish new ones with any peripheral sensors available. Unable to find a connection quick enough, it put itself in an auto connect sequence in the background and tried a low powered radar burst to map the immediate surroundings. It found itself unable to locate the primary transmitter and looked for a secondary, found the vocal chords and connected. The inaudible burst of sound passed through Rayne's lips without notice and bounced its way through the corridors before being reflected back. The waves of sound returned almost instantly where the signal was picked up by what looked like stubble growing from her nearly bald head. The signal was then translated as a first person, three-dimensional map and pushed to Rayne's optic nerve. The picture was extremely grainy and nowhere near what she was used to in the T80 because of the short antenna length, but the short burst had allowed her to see movement coming her way. Startled by the image, Rayne grabbed Lena's arm and pulled her to a stop.

"Someone's coming," she whispered, crouching back into a control panel recess. Her brain reached for a weapons that were no longer there. Rayne growled in frustration and hefted her batons. She felt naked and helpless and it made her angry.

Lena patted the hand on her arm with a worried glance.

"It's just one of the crew, Rayne. I'll go talk to them. Wait here for a second." She disengaged from Rayne's arm and walked quietly down the corridor and out of sight.

Rayne crouched in the darkness, her whole body tensed for violence. She clenched her teeth. Her hands flexed on the grips of her batons. Her breath hissed in and out in a low rasping growl. She heard mumbled conversation from the hallway where Lena had disappeared. She caught only part of the conversation as the thing in her brain failed to connect to the hardware needed to enhance her hearing.

"...best if you took another route."

A confused reply from a male voice.

"Sure, thing Lena." Footsteps echoed away down the corridor, followed by soft footsteps returning. Rayne tensed.

"Rayne?" Lena called casually. "Rayne? You there? It's cool. It was just one of the guys from engineering. I asked him to take another way." Lena peaked her head cautiously from the corridor and saw Rayne still crouched in the control panel recess with a wild look in her eyes. She cursed quietly and approached like someone would a wounded animal.

"Rayne? It's okay. There's no enemy here." Rayne's breath still came in low hissing growls. Lena kept speaking in calm, reassuring tones and gently laid a hand on her hot forearm. She was taking a huge chance, but she needed to do something before anyone else came along. This particular corridor wasn't well traveled which was why she'd chosen it over the more direct and busy routes, but if anyone came along now, someone would get hurt.

Rayne's eyes flicked to Lena's contact with her arm. Lena's words worked their way to her through the murky distance. When no attack came, Lena took it as a positive sign and took a knee and faced her. She put another hand on Rayne's trembling left arm and looked into her sunglass-covered eyes.

"Rayne. I need you to get control and calm down. Breathe easy." The tension in Rayne's body relaxed somewhat as she struggled for control. "That's it. Breathe in, breathe out." Several minutes passed as Rayne focused to slow her breathing and calm the murderous rage inside. Finally, while not relaxed, Lena felt Rayne had enough control to continue. "If you're ready, let's go." They stood up together, Lena still holding gently to her arms. "It's time we got you out of that ugly white gown and into some cool kick-ass marine wear." They moved forward through the corridor, Lena with one arm hooked in Rayne's.

They returned from the quartermaster an hour later. Lena commented that she now looked appropriately bad ass, but Rayne missed the light touch of the gown on her skin and walking in bare feet, despite her earlier opinion to the contrary. She still wore the sunglasses and carried her batons, but now wore the marine battle dress uniform. The camouflaged pattern and cut of the uniform hadn't changed significantly in over a hundred years, but the technology had. Instead of a single color or pattern, the current BDU was capable of adopting several, depending on conditions. When not in combat, a solid olive drab was regulation, which was the color Rayne wore now. Everything itched and chaffed. Lena had assured her they'd break in with time, but Rayne worried she'd lose several layers of skin before then. The boots were probably the worst, and the best she could say about them was that they kept her feet warm and protected her soft soles from the hard edges of the ship's floors. They fit, she supposed, but they were far from comfortable. She was inclined to take them off at the first opportunity. Aside from her obsidian colored skin and youthful appearance, she fit right in with the rest of the squad with her stubbled head and lean muscular figure.

They arrived just in time as Taft challenged all takers to a pull-up contest.

"Just in time, Lena. I'm about to school everyone in pull-ups, including you." He swaggered up and put his hands on his hips. "Our bet still stand?" he asked with a smile.

"It still stands, Taft, but I ain't worried." She pushed him out of the way as she guided Rayne past. "In fact, I'll bet money Rayne can beat you, too," she said over her shoulder as they walked to where the rest of the squad were getting ready to compete.

"Hah! I'll take that bet," he said, following them over. "How much money do you want to lose on that, along with a night of love and passion with me?"

Lena snorted.

"I'll give you a thousand credits if you beat her." She wasn't particularly worried about losing either bet. She had the top PT scores on the squad and when it came to pull-ups, Davis was the only one who could beat her. As far as Rayne was concerned, she looked fit and Lena had experienced firsthand the kind of strength that lay hidden beneath her smooth black skin.

Lena, her arm still hooked in Rayne's, guided her to a position underneath the bar at the far end. Mike looked at the two, walking arm in arm and gave Lena a raised eyebrow. She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a look that said, "I'll tell you later."

There was only enough room for four marines at one time on the bar, so Rayne, Lena, Taft and Davis lined up, ready to begin. Rayne still held the batons in her hand and looked around, wanting to put them down, but unwilling to let them go.

Mike stepped forward.

"Would you like me to hold those for you?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Rayne stared at him for several long seconds. She glanced around the bay and then back. Finally, she tucked the batons in to her waist band and turned back toward the bar. That drew grins from the squad, but no one spoke up.

"Hey Taft?" called Davis as he rubbed his hands together. "You know if you lose, you have to clean the heads, right?"

"I was going to have to clean them, anyway," he replied, swinging his arms back and forth. "At least this way I got a chance."

"Okay, everyone ready?" shouted Mike.

A thought occurred to Lena. "Wait a sec, Sarge." She leaned over and whispered something in Rayne's ear. Rayne turned her head and returned a short nod and turned back with a determined expression. "Okay, we're ready," Lena said.

Mike shouted the commands.

"On my go, grab the bar and begin. No short stroking or it doesn't count, Taft."

"Why you picking on me, Sarge?"

"Cuz you're the one who's always trying to cheat. Now three, two, one, go!"

Rayne jumped and caught the bar with the three other marines, keeping pace as the others began pulling themselves up and down in rapid succession. After five minutes, Taft fell to the ground with a respectable thirty, while Davis, Lena and Rayne kept pulling. Davis was the squad's leader for the event, while Lena was a close second. The marines cheered and urged the competitors on as they pulled themselves up and down with mechanical precision. Rayne attacked the bar like she was on a mission and showed no signs of slowing after ten minutes while both Davis and Lena began to struggle. Finally, Lena dropped to the ground exhausted. A minute later, Davis let go, unable to pull himself up any further. Rayne kept going with an intensity that bordered on anger refusing to quit, not knowing she'd already won. The squad had stopped their cheering and were now looking on in awed silence.

"She ain't even slowin' down, man," whispered Jackson. The others nodded their agreement.

"I want whatever she's got," Abena added. "Can someone get me some of that?"

"No, but I can get you some of this," Taft said, struggling to stand.

"Ugh, I think just threw up in my mouth."

Lena got up from her place on the floor, still winded from the contest.

"Rayne! Rayne! You won! You can stop now," she yelled to catch the girl's focused attention. She stepped closer, yelled again and patted her leg. Rayne immediately dropped to the ground, crouched into a fighting position, taking in air in deep steady breaths. Lena held her hands up and repeated without shouting, "You won, Rayne. You won. Calm down. You won." Rayne shook visibly as she fought for control, while everyone held their breath. "Focus on your breathing, Rayne. In and then out." Rayne's fists clenched and then unclenched, and her breath grew steadier by measures, until finally she shook herself and stood from her crouch.

A small smile escaped her lips and she whispered.

"I win."

***

Rayne sat to the side and watched with interest as the rest of the marines went through their hand-to-hand fighting drills. She'd never been taught to fight, she'd just learned through trial and error what worked and what didn't. Laser and bullets worked fine until you ran out and then all that was left were your hands, feet, elbows, knees and any other hard part of your body you could use as a weapon. Fortunately, the T80 had been made of mostly hard parts so the options had been extensive.

She rubbed the back of her neck and then ran a hand over the stubble on her head. It was throbbing with the start of a migraine. She pulled her sunglasses off and pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes. Rayne replaced her glasses and stood as she heard footsteps approaching.

"You okay Rayne?" Lena asked with a look of concern in her eyes.

"Headache."

"You want me to see if the Doc has anything for it?"

Rayne shook her head. She was in the habit of relying only on herself, and the thought of accepting help didn't even occur to her.

"Come on. There's no sense being in pain when you don't have to be." Lena motioned for her to follow. She knew marines and they had a bad habit of refusing help when it was offered; especially medical help. For some reason they thought it was macho to suffer pain when it wasn't necessary. She was frequently guilty of it herself.

They walked together to the med-tech room to find Dr. Little supervising the installation of a new piece of equipment. He turned when they entered and gave a quick smile.

"Ladies. How are you doing today?"

"You know I'm no lady, doc, and I'm fine, thanks." She jerked a thumb at Rayne. "She's got a headache, though, and we're hoping you had something to take the edge off."

"Just the headache?"

Rayne nodded and Dr. Little reached for a nearby cabinet to grab a bottle.

"This should do the trick." He dropped two tablets into Rayne's hand. She swallowed them without the benefit of any water and made a face at the bitter aftertaste.

"Thanks, doc," said Lena. She touched Rayne's arm lightly to catch her attention. "Whoa, your skin is hot. She's burning up, doc." Rayne pulled her arm away self-consciously and hid it behind her back.

Dr. Little had been about to go back to what he was doing, but turned around with concerned interest.

"Can I take a closer look?" He asked and indicated toward the med-tech table. Rayne hesitated for a second, eyed the doctor suspiciously, then walked to the table and sat down. He activated his data pad and diagnostic equipment and read the data streams as they scanned Rayne's vitals.

"Well, her temperature is up. It's about one hundred point five at the moment. Nothing too serious and the medication I gave her should help with that." He scanned through the other data streams. "Blood pressure and heart rate are up a little, but I'm going to guess that'll be normal for a while." His forehead creased as he scrutinized some of the other data. "Brainwaves look a little off, but I don't think it's anything to worry about." He set his data pad down. "Why don't we have Rayne take some rest for the rest of the day?"

Mike walked in just as Rayne got off the table.

"Everything okay?" He'd seen Lena leave training and escort Rayne toward med-tech and wanted to make sure nothing was amiss.

"Just a headache. Doc gave her something and she's going to take it easy the rest of the day."

Mike nodded.

"We got re-cert to do anyway. She can go sack out while the rest of us endure our yearly torture. Hey, I was going to ask, what did you tell her before the competition?"

Lena took Rayne's arm and they walked toward the door.

"I promised her a trip to the habitat if she kicked everyone's ass." Lena smiled as they walked out.

When they reached the marine barracks, Rayne was grateful to lay her pounding head on the soft pillow and soon fell asleep to the whisper of electronic gibberish in her head.

***

Dr. Gault spent a sleepless night at her house. Her brain had been going a mile a minute, developing theories and hypotheses. She'd worked through possible biopsy options against less intrusive scanning methods. She'd ticked off items of equipment needed not currently in her arsenal. There was so much to do and think about, and it literally flooded her brain with the possibilities. She'd finally had to resort to meditation to calm the storm of ideas sloshing around inside her head. She needed to focus her attention. She needed to make her plans, assess her options and position her players on the board to make sure everything went where it was supposed to.

She'd moved her first piece into position that morning with a call to a friend at Fleet Command. Dr. Gault understood that if you wanted to get anywhere in life, you had to have the political connections to make it happen. And she could play the political game like a grandmaster. To get the right funding and to have your projects approved took not just scientific genius, but political savvy as well. It was as much about who you knew as what you knew.

There had been some resistance as first. Moving a small scouting vessel from one side of space to the other just wasn't something normally done. Her current system had enough of those types of vessels after all and why would they need another? Besides, moving a ship's captain to unfamiliar space was not advisable. What often made a good ship's captain was not just his leadership qualities, but his knowledge of the space he patrolled. Common sense decisions were often based on that knowledge. Without it, mistakes happened.

Dr. Gault had expertly smoothed away those concerns, outlined the information she'd come across, and the need to have the ship brought to her. She painted a picture of the technological possibilities and advancements, as well as hinting at the accolades success could bring them. It was the last part that got the job done, as she knew it probably would. She'd cultivated this particular contact for his drive to be successful and climb the ladder of command as high as it would take him. She'd helped push him up quite a few of those rungs herself, and the promise of yet more success and higher levels of command were just too good to pass up. After all, it was just one little scouting ship, anyway.

She sat back in her chair and smiled, satisfied with her first move. Now, she needed to start assembling the right team for what needed to be done. Most of them were already working in the same research complex, but they would need to be pulled from their current projects and assigned to hers. She had to be a little more careful with these calls than with the first. Brute force wouldn't get the job done with her fellow scientists. They would need a little persuasion to drop what they were doing, but once they found out what she had they'd likely ask for re-assignment anyway. From there it was just a matter of greasing the wheels and getting the right approval from the right people.

She sat forward and tapped a finger on the desk. What to do with Dr. Miller? Dr. Gault recognized the psychologist had been a key figure in discovering and providing her with such an extraordinary find. It didn't feel right to yank the rug out from underneath her. Dr. Gault was driven, but not underhanded. Well...not all the time anyway and she was going to need someone to address the psychological issues the test subject had or developed during the testing. That decided, she made another call and arranged for a transfer.

Having assuaged her conscience, Dr. Gault began going through Dr. Miller's initial scans in detail. She would need to present her findings to her newly assembled team when the time came and needed everything organized in a coherent fashion. She assembled the 3D scans in succession and added notes, possible theories, and different aspects of study to pursue. She made tentative assignments to individual team members and made a short list of tests and scans needed to start.

Satisfied with her initial draft, she sat back and assessed her work. It was good, but there were still gaps that needed filling. For one thing, she had noticed the structures in the test subject's brain were somewhat familiar, but she couldn't quite place them. She hoped a member of the team could jog her memory. Second, those structures did not appear to be connected in any way; either to each other or the body's nervous system by any visible means. Could they be communicating wirelessly, so to speak? And if so, by what means, frequency, and how was it encrypted to prevent interference? She had more questions than answers at this point and it excited her. She wrung her hands in anticipation.

***

Rayne looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was growing back in quickly, but not its original soft, reddish brown. Instead, it was coming in black, coarse and wild. Still, it was better than being bald. She'd tried to run a comb through it but that had proved impossible and she had to be satisfied with simply running her fingers through it to attain something remotely close to order. An attempt to trim it had met with failure as well, when Lena commented the four inch tangle was very un-marine. Scissors wouldn't cut it and they'd given up after the squad's trimmer had failed to make a dent. It seemed to have a life of its own. Sometimes it would bend to her will and lay as her hands directed it. Other times, it decided to stand straight up in a tangled mess, like today.

She reached down into the cold water of the sink and splashed it on her face and hair. She tried to flatten it down, but it stubbornly stood upright. She shrugged helplessly and began scrubbing the skin on her face. She'd noticed over the last week that her skin tone was lightening. The once black obsidian had now turned to a dusty gray, with just a hint of pink underneath. If things kept progressing as they had, she might be back to normal color in a few more weeks. She hadn't really minded the color, but it would be nice to see her own face in the mirror again.

She still suffered from a near constant headache that hung on tenaciously like a vise, and threatened to squeeze her sensitive eyes from her head. She made daily trips to Dr. Little for relief, but for two weeks the pain had continued nearly unabated. The doctor had taken some blood samples and run some more scans, but so far he'd not yet identified the source of the pain. He'd made some guesses about possible head injury during her rescue or maybe the strain on her eyes after so little use during the previous three years. The neural interface in the T80 did not require the eyes to see, but bypassed them completely, using its own peripheral devices. As a result, her eyes had sat in her head as no more than a decoration until she'd been released from the suit.

It was a logical theory, but it didn't explain the muscle aches that had started just shortly after the headaches. The pain that had started in her head now worked its way throughout her body; invading every muscle and every joint. It wasn't a debilitating pain. It was a kind of soreness you felt the next day after a heavy workout, but this one didn't go away. It just took up residence and decided to stay, just like the ache in her head. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.

"Okay, you're pretty. Now get out of the way and let me have a turn." Lena came up behind her and used her hip to bump her out of the way. "Need your morning latte? We'll go see the Doc before we hit PT."

Rayne stepped to the side to give Lena some room. Lena had become her lifeline. Not quite best friends forever, but they were never more than a couple of feet from each other. Rayne found herself frequently holding to Lena's arm as they walked, finding it a great source of comfort and stability. They didn't talk much, or at least Rayne didn't talk much. Lena, on the other hand, did so constantly. Whether it was the banter with the squad or talking just for Rayne, she kept a constant stream of dialog going. She attempted to draw Rayne into conversation and keep her actively engaged in whatever they were doing. It helped, but even without the pain, Rayne was constantly on edge as the gibberish in her head began to increase in volume. That, added with the periodic flashbacks and persistent nightmares, put her on the verge of exploding at any given moment. There were times when Rayne simply clutched Lena's arm and buried her head into her shoulder, while she closed her eyes tightly and forced the breath in and out of her lungs. During those moments, Lena would whisper soothing words and lightly stroke her head, like a mother to a child having a bad dream. The other members of the squad took it as a clue it was time to find something else to do and quickly cleared out.

Living with the marine squad was difficult for Rayne. While the weapons bay was big and afforded plenty of room to move and train and even find a place out of the way to be on your own, the barracks were not. They were tight and cramped and left almost no room to move past anyone without touching. Consequently, Rayne didn't spend a whole lot of time there, but she had become somewhat used to being in close proximity to other humans without wanting to kill them; or at least the humans in the squad.

There were no secrets in the squad. There wasn't enough room for secrets. If someone had a problem with someone else, everyone knew and it was dealt with by the group as a whole. If they needed to fight it out, everyone cleared some space, and they fought it out and shook hands afterward. Rayne still had raging nightmares and got to experience them with her as she screamed and thrashed in her sleep. Ear plugs had been issued out after the first night.

Despite the friction, the group was as close as any family, and had made Rayne part of it. They tried to include her in everything they did and encouraged her at every opportunity. Only one reminder needed to be made about the "no contact" rule, and of course it had been Taft to illustrate why the rule was in place when he attempted to place an arm around Rayne's shoulder.

"My bad," he'd said as he picked himself up from the ground. After that, neither Taft nor anyone else had made the mistake. Instead, if Rayne needed to be touched, they left it to Lena. The hand-to-hand drills they worked through several times a week were one of those times.

Rayne had been sitting on the sidelines watching the group for several days, when Lena finally decided it was time for her to play a more active role. Very carefully, and very slowly they had worked their way into it. Lena monitored her condition very carefully and stopped whenever it even looked like Rayne was starting to lose it. At the start, this happened frequently, but after a week and half her brain was beginning to understand that the sparring didn't mean she was required to fly in to a murderous rage to protect herself.

What Rayne learned was a formalized approach to what she had been doing instinctively. But there were also times Lena would stop her and ask her to walk through what Rayne had just done. She would then turn and teach it to the rest of the group. Rayne felt a certain amount of pride that she could add, or give back, to the group that was going to such great pains to help her. She knew she wasn't one of them. Not really. But it was nice of them to try and she felt the need to return the favor.

"Somebody say something about a latte?" Abena stumbled into the bathroom. "I'm up for one of those." Lena and Rayne made room as she pulled up to the adjacent sink.

"Late night, Abena?"

"Yeah. Me and Henderson went out to that tavern on level six." She yawned and ran her hand under the cool water. "Hooked up with some guys from station engineering and had a few too many."

"You look like hell," Lena observed as she brushed her teeth.

"I feel like hell. Remind me to never do that again."

"PT should be a real pleasure today, then. I think Sarge was planning something with lots of running, jumping and yelling." She grinned at Rayne.

Abena rested her head on the cool metal of the sink.

"Kill me now."

Sgt. Weber's voice boomed through the barracks.

"PT everyone! You've got five minutes to get your asses out there and ready to go." He stuck his head in the restroom. "That means you, too, Rayne. No slacking." He turned back and started trading banter with the rest of the squad.

Abena moaned in pain as they turned to go.

"Come on. Let's get you both something for your pain, so Sarge can yell at us for the rest of the morning without your eyes falling out your head."

Lena grabbed Abena and Rayne both by the arm and they made their way through the barracks and down to med-tech.

"Good morning, ladies. Here for your morning dose?" Dr. Little asked cheerfully as he looked up from his data screen.

"I keep telling you, I'm no lady."

"Hope springs eternal." Dr. Little walked to the cabinet and grabbed the pain killers, while Lena peaked at the contents of his data screen.

"What you workin' on doc?"

"I was looking over some of Rayne's recent scans, looking for an explanation for her headaches." Rayne hadn't told them about the muscle pain she'd been experiencing or the gibberish that constantly whispered in her ear. What was the point? If he couldn't find the source of the headaches, how was he going to find the source of the muscle pain? She certainly didn't need them knowing she was hearing voices on top of it all.

"Any luck?"

"Nothing certain." He handed Rayne two tablets, which she promptly popped into her mouth. Abena made her own request, downed them and then left to join the rest of the squad lining up.

"But there are a couple of things on the older scans I didn't see before, and when compared with the new scans, there are some other things I don't have an explanation for." He walked over to the data screen and swiped it to a larger screen for them both to see.

"I'm no neurologist, but..."

"A neurolowhatsit?" Lena's face creased in confusion.

"Brain surgeon." The doctor clarified.

"Got it." Lena scrutinized the scans, looking for something out of place.

"These dark spots here, here...well, there's a bunch of them." He pointed to the screen indicating each of the areas. "I'm pretty sure they're not supposed to be there and I have no idea what they are." Dr. Little reached down and grabbed his portable data pad. "I can tell you what they aren't. They aren't cancerous or tumors of any type." He scanned through his notes. "I've analyzed the composition and its coming back as organic, with her DNA signature, but the reading's off." He massaged the back of his neck. "I've not seen anything like it and don't have the expertise for it, but I'd say it's likely the cause of the headaches. I'm not sure how to treat it."

"Okay, so what's on the new scans?" Lena peered at them, pretending she knew what she was looking at. It was a brain, that was obvious, but unless someone had left a pair of bolt cutters inside, she'd have no idea whether it was supposed to be there or not.

Dr. Little swiped a set of newer scans and placed them next to the older ones for comparison.

"Here is the old scan and you can see the same dark spots. What's new is these very faint lines you see here, starting to run out." He highlighted a small area of the scan and enlarged it. "Like this one here looks to be wrapping around the optic nerve and this one over here looks to be making multiple contacts through to the top of the head."

"Is it like a parasite or something?" Lena asked with a look of concern on her face. Rayne sat passively back and listened to the conversation. She'd listened to several similar conversations during the last two weeks. Lots of guessing and hypothesizing, but no real answers. Rayne just wanted the pain to go away. After two weeks, she was ready for it to stop.

"I don't think so. I mean the analysis shows her own DNA. It's just off. My guess on these little runners is that it's just a discoloration from the bio gel like with what happened to her skin, and that's what's returning the odd readings on the DNA. Three years is a long time to be encased in that stuff and I'm guessing it has just seeped into her system and is staining some of her body's interior structures. She has the same things running throughout her body. I can't see that they are doing her any harm, but I don't know that they are serving any purpose either." Sgt. Weber's voice boomed from the weapons bay for Lena and Rayne to get their asses in formation, if it wasn't too much of an inconvenience.

"Gotta run, Doc. We'll talk to you later." They joined the rest of the squad for PT, which did in fact, involve a great deal of running, jumping and yelling.

***

Captain Gault stood at the bridge of his ship. The ship's crew moved about the deck preparing for departure checking and re-checking everything to make sure it would meet the captain's exacting standards. He was anxious to get under way, but this was not a process that could be rushed. Like many things, attention to detail was needed and failure at any key point could end in disastrous results. Still, the time being spent to do it right was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had gotten the best of the station medical so far, but he did not count on that to hold for very much longer. What he needed to do was to get off this station and to some other planet-side port where he could find a suitable place for Rayne. He couldn't keep her aboard his ship, he knew that. A fleet vessel was no place for a seventeen-year-old, psychologically damaged young woman. And while the station had plenty of tech on hand to deal with the problems that fleet service typically encountered, he felt they were ill-equipped to deal with Rayne, at least not in the way she needed.

Reading through Sgt. Weber's daily reports, he'd found the marines were doing an admirable job, considering the unorthodox task he'd given them. In particular, Lena's performance and dedication to the task had been exceptional, and he intended on rewarding her for her efforts. She'd been an unlikely choice in his opinion, but he was not one to micro manage. Sgt. Weber knew his people and the captain let him make the call and had been pleasantly surprised by the results. But Rayne needed more than what the marines were capable of giving her. Rayne needed a gentle family environment, if one could be found. And while the marine squad dynamics mimicked family life in some ways, gentle it was not.

And maybe that was why things had gone so smoothly for the last two weeks. Since the marines had taken Rayne in, she'd not had any psychological episodes. He didn't count Private Taft being knocked unconscious. He placed that particular episode in the same category as the one a month prior when Private Taft had received nearly the same treatment for propositioning one of the women in engineering. He shook his head. That kid needed to be tied up when he wasn't fighting.

The plan now was to get away from this station and out into open space before Rayne could be taken from them, or their orders otherwise changed. From there, their normal patrol route would take them to within reach of several habitable systems, two of which he felt would be likely candidates for getting the right treatment for Rayne. The two systems he was thinking of both had sizeable populations with the right tech and other social services to handle her. He had a few civilian contacts on each that he felt confident would help him out. Rayne wasn't military, so he was under no obligation to drop her off at a military installation. In fact, the same reason he'd taken her from Procyon station's medical team was the same reason he'd do his best to keep any other military medical team away from her. He did not want her to become anyone's lab rat. Once they got their hands on you, getting away was near impossible. They would clog the process with so much red tape, you'd be old and gray before you walked out their front door, and by that time they'd have already taken everything and anything they could.

He was not about to let that happen to Rayne. She'd already been through too much; the loss of her parents, three years alone and fighting for her life, and now dealing with extreme psychological issues. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in a cage and poked with a stick for the rest of her life. And that's exactly what they would do, especially if they saw the information in Dr. Little's reports. There was no doubt about it, there was something going on inside that young girl. The good doctor didn't have the expertise to say what, but the military had a fleet of scientists and technicians at their disposal who would love to get their hands on her. The industrial military complex was still alive and well, and had never been bigger. It wasn't beyond them to take some poor marine or sailor who had no choice but to follow orders and poke, prod, inject, and test them until there was very little left. If they were lucky, they got to scrape by on the fleet's disability payments. All in the name of science. They didn't see them as people or fellow human beings. They saw them as "test subjects" and were so wrapped up in their science, they forgot their own humanity, or rather, the humanity of the people they used to test their little pet projects. No, that would not happen to Rayne.

They were nearly finished with the system checks. Just a few more minutes and they'd release the electromagnetic locks that held the ship in place. Then they'd be headed for open space.

"All right people, it's time we got out of here. Sound the launch warning and contact station comms and give them our vector out of this dump." Sailors snapped to and moved with ordered efficiency. The ship shuddered as the locks released and thrusters pushed them away from the station. They slowly moved forward and into dark, open space. Captain Gault paced back and forth, anxious to be out of communication range. He'd chosen a vector that would take them parallel with the orbital plane and past the system's two suns. If he could get the suns between him and the station, that would kill comms until they were out of range for any short-range vessels. While it was no longer practical to have the ship return to dock to off load one person, nothing was stopping them from ordering the vessel to hold while a shuttle made the trip. He wanted to be far outside shuttle range before that happened.

Things were going well so far, but he still felt a sense of unease, and the feeling that he needed to do more snuck into his mind and tickled the back of his brain. He wasn't generally one to believe in hunches, or follow them for that matter. What had been his guiding light throughout his career was procedure and protocol, but after ten minutes the feeling persisted and he felt he could no longer ignore it.

"Mr. Tanaka. Are your comms working?"

The ensign turned with a questioning look. "Yes, captain."

"When's the last time you ran a diagnostic on them?"

"Yesterday, when I was doing system checks." He looked at the captain nervously, wondering if he had done something wrong.

"Do it again." Not wanting to draw the captain's ire, the ensign hurriedly tapped his data console.

Running a diagnostic on the communications system, would put it down and unable to send or receive for about fifteen minutes. By that time, they would be close enough to the sun to interfere with any communications the station wanted to send. That would normally be a risky move, since they relied on the station to coordinate their in-system movement and prevent collisions with other incoming vessels. However, the unorthodox vector he'd chosen practically eliminated that possibility and they could use their own more limited ship scans to perform the same function. Captain Gault eased himself into his chair and let out a slow breath to release some of the pent up tension.

Fifteen minutes later found them cruising past one of the Procyon system suns. Their close proximity filled the comms with static as they continued into the open blackness of space. They picked up speed as they used the sun's gravity to sling-shot themselves into the outer part of the system. The sun no longer blocked communications from the station any longer, but they were well outside shuttle range. The captain breathed easy and set his mind to the next part of his plan. But, like all good plans, there was always a monkey wrench to go with it.

"Captain, we're getting a message from Procyon."

Captain Gault smiled. They were too late. He was not about to turn around now. They'd have to catch him at the end of his patrol in six months, and by that time Rayne would be well- placed with someone who cared.

"What's their message?"

"They're forwarding a general order from fleet command." He raised his head from his console with a look of dismay. "We're being re-assigned. To Alpha Centauri."

All heads on the deck turned, but no one dared speak a word. The look on the captain's face was a thundercloud waiting to burst. He'd planned for a lot of things, but not this. How could she have known? Half way across human-occupied space and she still managed to reach out and stab him in the guts. Damn that woman! How had she even found out? The woman had tentacles everywhere, without a doubt, but how or why would she even take an interest in Rayne?

Some might think he was jumping to conclusions, but he knew better. There was no way in the world fleet would reassign a recon vessel to an area over ten light years away from its home port. There was no other explanation. It had to be her, the former Mrs. Gault. That conniving, manipulative, devil of a woman had somehow gotten wind of Rayne and decided to take a personal interest. Of all the people Rayne should be kept away from, it was her. She represented the worst of what a scientist was capable of.

He tapped his finger on his arm rest as the crew waited for his orders. He pulled the message to his own data console and read through the orders. There was no mention of Rayne. Good, that meant he could off-load her any time and any place he chose. The problem was, there wasn't anything within easy reach. He couldn't take her back to the station and the closest habitable system even remotely close to the route they would have to take was Sirius. But it was too far out of the way to be feasible, even if he did have contacts in the system with which to place Rayne.

Into the lioness's den they would go then. His ex-wife was very well connected to all the right people. If she wanted something, she generally got it. If he tried to fight her on her level, she would win. If you got in her way, she would crush you and then suck out your juices until there was nothing left but a dried empty husk.

He would fight, though, and while not pleased that Rayne and his crew were being caught in the middle, he was warming to the challenge. He liked a good fight and this one would bring great personal satisfaction if he won. He'd been itching for a re-match anyway. Their marriage had ended, and he was glad of that, but she had definitely won the war while he retreated to the far reaches of space to lick his wounds. He learned a few things since then, about himself mostly, and he felt he had a much better handle on how to approach this kind of fight. He'd come at her all right, but he'd come at her sideways, not straight on like he'd always done before. That's what the strict adherence to regulations and procedure had always forced him into, the straight-on fight, and there was no way to win against a superior force that way. No, he wouldn't play by the rules this time. This time, he intended to win, and would be waging guerilla warfare to do it. He'd be flexible and unpredictable while at the same time hiding the true nature of his attack. He'd follow procedure. To the letter, in fact. But under the cover of rules and regulation, he'd pull the rug right out from under her feet. Something of a plan began to form in his mind and he gave the command to change course.

***

Dr. Miller lay in the guest crew quarters on board Captain Gault's ship now bound for Alpha Centauri. She had mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was miffed to be picked up and moved like a piece of baggage. On the other hand, she was excited to be part of Dr. Gault's team. The doctor had a reputation for putting together the best and brightest to attack whatever scientific problem was being studied. Attack was the right word, too. She approached research with a single-minded purpose that left most people exhausted. She let no one or no hurdle get in her way, so Dr. Miller shouldn't have been too surprised that she'd been uprooted from her current station and moved to a location that was more convenient to Dr. Gault and not her. What did she expect, really? Did she think the doctor was going to just drop what she was doing and travel ten light years to a naval station on the edge of human-occupied space to join her little research group? That would hardly have been in character. No, Dr. Gault was the center of this universe and she, Dr. Miller, was simply one of the many celestial bodies circling her immense gravity well.

While being miffed about the sudden and unexpected re-assignment, she was excited at the prospects. In the psychology field she was a nobody, really. She had published a few papers here and there in the scientific data journals, but nothing of any significance to warrant the coveted position on Dr. Gault's newly formed team. She could think of half a dozen psychologists in their five-system area that had similar qualifications. She was no slouch by any means, but if she were picking a team and needed a psychologist, she wouldn't have put herself on the list. She could only guess at Dr. Gault's reasons. Perhaps she wanted to give a relative unknown a shot at following up on her own discovery. If that was the case, she was grateful. The doctor certainly had enough influence to simply pull the project completely from her grasp and leave her nothing without a second thought. The other possibility that occurred to her was that she would be playing some less important role in the project, and her inclusion was simply an afterthought, personal qualifications notwithstanding. If that was the case, she would have to prove herself to be more than just a bystander or decoration. She would have to prove she was capable of adding meaningful content to the discussion.

To that end, Dr. Miller had spent an enormous amount of time going over her scans and notes from her subject's examination. She had developed a number of theories from a number of different approaches. She knew the material backward and forward, or as much of it as had been made available. None of the biographical background had been included with the subject's file. When she had been brought into the station, the subject had been labeled as a Jane Doe. There had been no identification chip giving military rank or branch designation as would be typical of military personnel and she could think of no reason why a T80 pilot would be without one. Special operations maybe? The subject seemed a little young for that, but maybe it was experimental. Regardless, the chip should have given her a reference file number that would have supplied her with a full biographical and mental health history allowing her to create a full treatment plan. Instead, what she had been given nothing and trying to develop a coherent psychological assessment was impossible.

Dr. Miller had made attempts to access the information via the ship's data terminals, but none of that information had been forthcoming from Captain Gault or from his ship's data files. Any time a ship made dock, its database was automatically synced with that of the station. What was in the ship's database was automatically transferred into the station's database. What they knew, she should know, which was in the best interest of the patient when they came in for treatment. But nothing had been available on the girl except the details of her rescue. She had attached those files to her other research data, but she did not want to show up in Dr. Gault's office with incomplete information. She'd done a little teaching before being assigned to the station and there was nothing more unimpressive than a student who hadn't done their homework. She did not intend to be that person.

During the weeks the ship had been in port, Dr. Miller had made multiple trips to see Dr. Little. The captain had said she wouldn't be allowed to treat the girl, but he had said nothing about coming on board to speak with his ship's doctor, who would take part in any medical dealings with the girl. The doctor had been annoyingly unhelpful. The captain had obviously ordered him not to share any information with her and his shipboard files were encrypted. She'd caught him looking at a couple of scans she guessed belonged to the girl on a number of occasions, but as soon as he found her looking, whatever was on the screen was taken down and she was politely rebuffed.

That left Dr. Miller observing from a distance. Again, the captain's orders had not prevented her from coming onboard the ship and making observations and taking notes. She had been astonished at the captain's choice to place the girl with the marines, unsecured and basically untreated. In her opinion, a subject with that kind of trauma needed a secure environment with daily treatment and medications. The girl appeared to be given none of this, and to place her in the middle of a bunch of knuckle-dragging marines seemed unconscionable. However, after seeing the marines interact with her, she had to grudgingly admit the choice, while unorthodox, might well have been a stroke of genius. The subject had by no means reached anything attaining normalcy, but the progress was notable.

There were several times throughout each day that the subject appeared on the verge of a total psychotic break down, but each time the same female marine took control and provided a stable platform for the girl to ground herself to, while the rest of the marines cleared the area in case she completely broke down. The regular exercise was obviously beneficial and seemed to be a good outlet for the test subject to work out her aggression, which was good because the doctor had experienced firsthand that the girl contained quite a lot. But even that seemed to have its risks. It appeared from Dr. Miller's perspective that any activity that got the girl physically active also had the tendency to draw out anger and hostility as well, and it was her expert opinion that avoiding physical activity, at least for the short term, would have been the best course of action.

However, over the two weeks Dr. Miller had been observing, the subject had begun to relax and gain more control of the rage so obviously trying to get out. The near psychotic breaks became less and less frequent. She'd also noted the subject's affect had shown some margin of improvement. On their first meeting, the subject had been flat and emotionless. There had been no warmth or recognition and it had raised the hackles on the back of the doctor's neck. Her face had lacked much of any expression, but after two weeks with the marines, Dr. Miller caught the hint of what might be called a smirk from time to time. She noted the subject still communicated very little and only in short, one or two-word responses. The only exception seemed to be with the female marine that walked her through her near-psychotic breaks, and who obviously had been assigned as her tender. The two were never more than a few feet apart and there were times when the subject would whisper into the marine's ear. There was no way to know what was being said, but the length indicated it was something more than the one to two word answers she gave everyone else.

Dr. Miller had been particularly distressed when the subject had been included in the hand-to-hand combat drills. What were they thinking, including the subject in something like that in her condition? It was combat that had done this to her, and here they were, having her participate in the same kind of activity that had caused her psychosis. If that wasn't a recipe for disaster, she didn't know what was, and she waited for disaster to strike. Dr. Miller hoped for the psychotic break to open the possibility of re-visiting the girl's treatment with the captain, but it never came. The subject seemed on the verge almost constantly the first few sparring sessions, but the female marine, with infinite patience, would stop and walk her back to sanity. While the doctor thought it was an incredibly stupid and risky thing to do, she had to admire the marine's sharp eye and easy hand. The marine watched the subject like a hawk and immediately terminated any activity when she saw the girl was on the verge of losing control. Dr. Miller was too far away to hear what was said, but the calm, reassuring tones and posture seemed to have the right effect on the subject. In fact, she noticed after several days the female marine was the only one who touched the subject and the only one the subject touched in return. It was plain after two weeks they had formed some type of bond. Dr. Miller had to admit she was a little jealous. Had she been given the opportunity, that could have been her and she could have been well on her way to getting the data she would need for her research.

The doctor also couldn't help but notice the fluid grace and speed with which the subject moved that made everyone else look clumsy. After two weeks, the subject had progressed to a new level in their hand-to-hand combat training, where she could go for nearly a five minute round of sparing before her tender would have to stop the action until the subject regained control. Before that time, the subject moved with such speed and fluidity her partner, always the female marine, never laid a hand on her. The opposite was not true and the girl landed frequent blows. They were obviously not going full out, but the strikes looked painful. The marine seemed to take it in stride, and in fact, seemed to be enjoying the interaction. Dr. Miller would never understand the masochistic tendencies of marines. There were obviously some deep- seated issues with all of them, but she supposed the human race needed people like them, even if they were a bit difficult to manage.

Another thing the doctor had noticed over time was the change in the subject's physical appearance. The black, obsidian-like skin had begun to lighten incrementally, until she had attained an ash-colored hue. It was a welcome change for the doctor, personally. She hadn't cared for the alien look in combination with the dead-pan stare. It was just creepy and unsettling and it would be nice to deal with the subject when she looked a little more on the human side. Dr. Miller also observed the girl's hair had begun to grow back. That had to be a significant morale boost for the subject. Most injured patients she dealt with that had some kind of disfigurement responded positively to a restoration of their original condition. For a young, pretty woman, being bald had to be a hardship the subject was glad not to have to deal with.

Dr. Miller shifted her attention back to her notes and frowned. She was as familiar with the data currently available to her as she was going to get. What she needed was more information, which she wanted desperately before reaching Alpha Centauri. And not just information. She did not want to start from scratch with the subject when they reached their destination. She needed to find some way to establish some kind of rapport with the girl. Nothing too intrusive, at least not to start, but eventually she would have to take the place of her current tender. She had two weeks to make some kind of start before they reached their destination and she thought intently on the matter as the ship sailed through the darkness of space.

***

Rayne sat with her back against the bulkhead, looking out the view port at the end of the maintenance access. Her boots sat in a disordered heap across from her, along with the socks. She was fortunate to have the air was circulating away from her and hadn't had to throw them further down the hall to escape the smell. She rested her bare feet on the smooth metal, enjoying the sensation of having air circulate around them once again. She sat in the full light of the fading suns streaming through the window as they continued to exit the system. It would be another several days before they were far enough out to punch a hole through folded space and cross the system to their new destination without causing danger for other incoming vessels.

The corridor in which she sat was a dead end; the view port serving no real purpose but to give its passengers a view of the space outside. It was quiet and secluded, and with Lena guarding the access, the chances of being interrupted were low. It was exactly what she needed. It had been a busy day and the close proximity of so many people had been pushing her further and further toward her breaking point. She needed the quiet, if only for a little while before having to face her dreams.

It was the end of their cycle and everyone was either sacked out or passing their time quietly before preparing for sleep. Rayne was just a short distance from the barrack's hatch where she knew Lena was keeping watch. She could hear the sound of mumbled conversation, but didn't make any effort to understand what was being said. She didn't want to think right now and just let her mind drift as she watched the stars. The static in her head was a persistent hiss, occasionally skipping and fading, but never truly going silent. From time to time she thought she heard voices and wondered if she was going truly crazy or if she was just hearing memories of her T80 interface. She couldn't make out what was being said and was too tired now to even try. Whatever it was, whether a memory or not, it was too distorted to make out.

Rayne's feet were getting cold and she moved them into the suns' light, hoping they still had enough energy at this distance to provide some warmth. She swung her face toward the window, closing the secondary lids on her eyes as she did. Getting them to do it without closing the others took concentrated effort, but it was becoming easier as she practiced. The lids were colored the same as the T80 bio gel and transparent, providing her with protection from the bright glare of the lights and sun in the same way the sunglasses sitting next to her right hand did. Rayne hadn't been aware of them until she'd noticed people giving her odd looks when she wasn't wearing the sunglasses. She'd been shocked herself to find that every time she blinked, the shiny black secondary lids slid horizontally across them as well. She hadn't touched them directly, but through the skin of her regular lids they felt hard, like the transparent composites they used on optics, data screens and visors used by the marines. They didn't seem to serve any purpose other than to shield her eyes from the light. She corrected herself. They had blocked debris from getting into her eyes during training. She'd been doing some stick work and one of the batons they'd been using had shattered, sending debris flying in every direction as it exploded. Several small pieces had hit her directly in the eye and been deflected by the protective coating. Convenient, but disturbing to everyone that saw them, including her.

Rayne kept the sunglasses on as much as possible to keep those around her from freaking out. She heard enough whispers behind her back and didn't want to give them another reason for seeing her as different. It was nothing bad or mean-spirited. The marines had treated her well. She was just tired of the comments on her strength and speed, and didn't want to give everyone something else to talk about. She'd actually dialed back on what she was capable of, so she'd fit in better with the rest.

Rayne watched the slow spiral of the nebulae outside the window. The system's two suns lay at the heart and lit the dark, cloudy mass from within. The sight was spectacular and epic in its proportions. The nebulae shown like giant clouds colored in reds, blues and greens, as they churned slowly in the suns' energy. She gave up heating her feet in the sun and pulled them back to a spot on the floor that was moderately warm from the machinery laboring beneath. She turned her face away from the spectacular scene as she heard laughter from the barracks. She liked the sound. Again, she was reminded of her mother. She smiled at the memory and imagined she could feel a brush through her long hair. She put a hand to her head and the image was ruined by the feel of coarse, stubbled hair. Tears sprung unbidden to her eyes and she closed both lids to hide them away. She angrily choked back the sob that threatened to escape her lips. She'd lost everything; her mother and her father, and now the only thing that had given her purpose...her enemy. Her rescue had taken the last of what she could call hers. She turned her face back toward the churning nebulae outside and felt herself drift. She stoked the anger in her heart to life in an effort to feel something other than the emptiness that threatened to consume her. She felt nothing. No joy or happiness. Laughter was forgotten. She was barely capable of a smile. But she remembered anger and hate and killing, and silently wished for it again.

Rayne reacted before the sound registered. Her iron grip grabbed firmly onto a soft neck and slammed the helpless figure onto the ground. She screamed in rage and raised her other hand to strike, blindly thinking the choking figure in her grasp was a threat. She registered the sound of pounding feet and yelling, but ignored it as she brought her fist down toward the now unconscious figure. Before the blow landed Rayne was knocked to the ground. She found herself in a choke hold and lashed out at the figures swarming to grab her arms and legs. Screaming in anger, she kicked and struggled to pull herself free. Someone shouted in her ear as they maintained the tight hold on her neck. She tucked her chin down to protect her throat, but the pressure did not increase. Whoever was holding her wasn't trying to kill her, but she thrashed frantically anyway because the thought of being held or touched at that moment was unbearable.

"GET OFF ME!" she screamed.

"Not until you calm down," came the calm, but strained response, as the person struggled to maintain their hold.

Rayne recognized Lena's voice. Lena had one arm wrapped around her neck from behind, with her feet wrapped around her torso as Rayne found herself staring at the ceiling. Every marine in the squad was taking an arm or a leg and doing their best to keep her immobile as she kicked and thrashed. Most were in half states of dress and had obviously been asleep when the commotion started.

Rayne stopped actively fighting, but continued to pull against the restraining hands.

"Is she okay?" It was Sgt. Weber's voice.

"She's still breathing, but unconscious."

It was obvious they weren't talking about her. She was very conscious, still teetering on the brink of violence.

"Do you want me to get someone from med-tech?"

"No, not yet."

Rayne heard soft steps and then the sergeant's concerned face hovering above her.

"Rayne? You okay?"

Of course she was not damn well okay. She was freaking out and had just attacked one of the marines or a member for the crew.

"I'm fine," she lied. She tried to relax, but the multitude of hands touching her was making it impossible.

He stared at her for several seconds and then nodded.

"Let's let her up."

"You sure?" Jackson stood next to him, looking down on Rayne as the others held her.

"No, but are you gonna hold her like that all night?" The sergeant turned to Jackson with a questioning look. Jackson just put both his hands up and shook his head in response. Sgt. Weber turned back to the pile of marines at his feet. "Just back off quick when you let go or you'll be throwing up in a bucket as they haul you away."

The pressure on her arms, legs and neck released suddenly. One moment she was on the ground with Lena at her back, the next she was standing with her back to the view port window with what seemed like no movement in between.

"Holy shit," someone murmured.

Rayne kept her position, back to the window, secondary lids closed, and huffing in exertion as she kept her feet planted on the floor, resisting the urge to charge forward for attack. 'These are my friends,' she kept repeating to herself. As much as she had, anyway. Lena stood from her position on the floor and walked quietly forward, stopping a meter out of reach. Like it mattered. Rayne could cover the distance in less than a nano-second and deal a death blow before the woman could move to defend herself. Their sparring sessions were a joke and she was pretty sure Lena knew it. So why stand so close when she knew it could be lethal? Trust? She rolled the word over in her mind for several long moments as Lena just stood before her saying nothing. She simply waited, giving Rayne time to...what? Decide not to kill her? The realization that she had no intention of doing so suddenly dawned on her and she relaxed. She allowed the tension to drain from her body, sat in the view port window and turned her head away from those behind her, watching the nebulae's slow, churning motion as if nothing had happened.

***

Rayne sat quietly in the corner of the ship's small galley, sipping a hot drink. The rest of the squad sat around her, talking idly on a variety of different topics. The current topic of choice seemed to be their re-assignment and the various effects it would have on their lives and careers. A few discussed the opportunities that would be available in Alpha Centauri and the surrounding systems. They talked about the different recon and combat assignments that would be available. Being that much closer to the center of human space, the opportunities for conflict were often higher and thus the marine's ability to get into a fight, or some action was higher. Overall, the group seemed to feel pretty optimistic about the move.

Rayne didn't really care one way or another, so long as there was open sky wherever they ended up. She didn't have any family left to go home to anymore, so as far as she was concerned, one place was as good as another. She'd not had time to think about what she would do when they reached their destination. Past the pain and scrambled voices inside her head, the only thought on her mind had been freedom and open sky. Now that the prospect of getting planet side had presented itself, thoughts of what she would, or could do, began to fill her mind. The first thought that had occurred to her was to finish school. Her mother had been overseeing her education and she had nearly been done with the basic curriculum. She had planned to move on to one of the many specialties available to her, but their ship's crash had eliminated that future. Or maybe that was not the right word. Delayed might be a more accurate word for it. Now that she'd thought the matter over, finishing her schooling was what she wanted to do. She'd always loved to learn; always been curious about everything and had driven the ship's crew nearly insane with her questions. She guessed the only reason they put up with her was because she was the daughter of the ship's captain.

Rayne toyed with the idea of staying with the marines, but decided it just wasn't going to be in the cards. She was too messed up in the head to pass any type of entrance exam, and while she liked the group and the training, which gave her a sense of purpose and helped displace the chaos that constantly sought to burst free, she wanted to be done with killing. She didn't want to choose a career that would put her in the middle of that. Unless they were Tau Ceti. She could definitely make a career out of that. Anger bubbled to the surface as the thought caught hold, and the liquid in her cup began to shake as her hand trembled with the rage. Lena, who was sitting next to her, put a reassuring hand on hers and the rage sank. She took a deep, relaxing breath and looked for another track of thought to occupy her mind.

That was another thing. What was she going to do without Lena? She had come to rely on the woman in the last two weeks. She was an anchor, the calm in the storm that threatened to spiral out of control at every turn. Could she keep it together without her? If she wanted some form of independence, and to live a life of her own, she was going to have to learn how.

It was at this moment the ship alert sounded and everyone was ordered to their stations. The marines moved as one toward the weapons bay to await orders. Lena hooked an arm in Rayne's as they followed the group. They all moved to their assigned weapon racks and began checking their equipment. Not having one of her own, Rayne helped Lena with hers. She'd become familiar with the gear over the last two weeks because Lena had gone through it daily as something to keep Rayne occupied. She knew how to load the magazines, how many magazines she needed for a basic combat load, where each item went and what needed to be included based on the mission type. Lena had even taught her to assemble and disassemble the automatic pistol. Rayne hadn't been allowed to fire it, which didn't necessarily offend her, and recognized her condition meant she could only be trusted so far. In reality, she'd fired enough rounds for two lifetimes anyway and wasn't overly eager to go to that place again.

Lena had offered to teach her the basics on maintaining and servicing the T80. Rayne flat out refused and made every effort to keep a healthy distance from it. Although the combat system had eventually become an integral part of her, the memory of being trapped inside without being able to escape, still haunted her. Not even knowing where the release was located had been enough to get her anywhere near it. Sgt. Weber had been a little disappointed. He had hoped at some point to have Rayne give them some suggestions or insights, since she had one of the highest kill counts in the fleet. Her obvious skill at the hand-to-hand fighting strongly suggested an equal amount of skill when operating the T80. The sergeant was forced to admit that even if they could get her to suit up, it probably wasn't a good idea for the foreseeable future. Any explanation or insights Rayne possessed would have to wait until she was willing to speak in more than the one or two word phrases she preferred.

Sgt. Weber spoke to the squad as they finished checking equipment.

"Once you've finished checking your gear, hang here until I tell you otherwise. I'm going to check with intel to see if they have anything for us." Everyone acknowledge him, then went back to checking their gear as he walked away.

"Hey, Lena, how about some cards?" Abena had finished checking her gear and was looking for something to pass the time until they knew what, if anything was going to happen.

"Sure, you got a deck? Grab the other two and we'll make a game of it."

"How about you, Rayne?" asked Abena. Rayne shook her head. It was typical of her to refuse, but they always offered anyway. She sat quietly against the weapons locker as Lena and the others pulled up whatever they could find to sit on.

"What's the game?" Callahan asked, pulling up an empty storage crate over to use as a table. Rayne hadn't spent much time with the marine and paid him little attention.

"Black Jack?" Abena suggested as she pulled a deck of cards from her locker and began to shuffle.

"No, I hate that game. It's boring," Taft said as he took his seat.

"What's the matter, can't you count that high?" ribbed Abena. "How about Go Fish, Taft? Isn't that more your speed?"

"Ha, Ha, very funny."

"How about Texas Hold'em?" suggested Callahan.

"Sure, you deal." Abena set the cards on their makeshift table and Callahan began to pass the cards out.

"Why do they call it Text Ass anyway?" Taft asked.

"It's not Text Ass idiot, its Texas and I think it was some old earth colony to start," Lena answered.

"Isn't that the name of the capital on Sirius?" asked Callahan.

Lena nodded, "It's New Texas and I'm sure that's where they got the name."

Rayne turned her head from the conversation and watched Sgt. Weber walk across the bay. She strained to hear what he was saying as he approached the intel officer. Rayne felt something like static crackle through her coarse black hair and there was an odd sensation as it seemed to reorient itself in that direction. She felt a series of connections snap rapidly into place inside her mind and sighed in relief as her world opened up to her again. She boosted the audio input, pinpointed, and then isolated, the conversation. She had missed the T80s capabilities that had become as natural to her as breathing. The loss of the ability had felt like being blind. It didn't occur to her that she shouldn't be able to do what she was doing. She was just glad it was back. She was glad to be herself again and to truly see the world as it was meant for her to see and hear as the data poured in. What had previously been the sound of electronic gibberish coalesced into the recognizable voice of the T80 interface. She welcomed the data like the voice of an old friend.

Rayne's brain had been forever changed by its three-year connection with the T80 system. While at its core her brain was still human, everything had become so closely integrated with the T80 software there was now little difference between the two. Rayne had become the T80 in all but hardware, and now after having been on an auto connect sequence for the last two weeks, her brain had finally found its missing connections. It had reached out, strained, and made new pathways, and adapted to the loss of its external sensors. The bio gel, which was now part of her chemical make-up, had responded slowly as it was forced into unnatural configurations, forming new structures and connecting gaps. The T80 now locked in her brain had reached out for existing structures and adapted them to its own purpose until finally, it had replaced what was missing and Rayne felt whole again.

Rayne became unnaturally still at what she heard in the conversation between the sergeant and intel officer, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Lena as the cards were dealt. Lena saw no signs that Rayne was about lose control, but the stillness was something new and it made her nervous. She kept one eye on the game and one eye on Rayne.

"...Ceti," was the first word she heard.

"How far out are they?"

"They've pulled them a million kilometers off the main lane into an asteroid field. Looks like the ship's captain was able to get the distress call out and then rigged his drive for an EMP burst, so now they're both locked together and floating dead in the water.

"What class ship?"

"B class."

"So we can expect a crew of about fifty, give or take?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right. The captain's in contact with them right now, but you know how Tau Ceti are. They'll die before surrendering, but I guess we gotta go through the motions."

The conversation then turned to tactical data, ingress routes, and attack points, but Rayne had stopped listening. Tau Ceti had killed her parents and their crew and then hunted her through three years of hell. Killing now consumed her thoughts and she fought the rising tide of rage. With a supreme effort of will she kept it from bubbling to the surface where Lena would immediately see it. She knew if she lost it now, she'd lose the ability to think herself onto that ship where she could kill until they were all extinct.

Rayne's mind raced furiously. First, she would need a weapon. Something more than the batons she still carried with her. She had no intention of beating anyone senseless. She intended to kill them and these little sticks weren't going to cut it. She knew Lena would miss anything taken from her weapons locker, as would any of the rest of the squad, but she also knew from her last two weeks that those weapons weren't the only ones here. They called it the weapons bay after all and there were a variety of weapons and ammunition stored in adjacent lockers. All she needed to do was take one during the confusion and then get herself on whatever transport they would be using to get themselves to the disabled vessels. She thought through every option, including taking out the entire squad and hijacking one of the ship's small shuttles. No, she wouldn't do that. Besides, she didn't know how to fly the shuttle, but she would not be denied. She was getting on that shuttle with everyone else, even if she had to fight her way on.

Sgt. Weber strolled across the weapons bay as he shouted.

"Everyone gear up! We've got an op! Light combat load! When you're ready, form up at Jensen's terminal and we'll go over the details!"

Everyone moved to their weapons locker and began pulling gear and loading weapons. Rayne stepped to the side to give them room and took the opportunity to slip an automatic pistol and spare magazines into her waist band and cargo pockets from a nearby weapons crate while no one was looking. Finished with their preparations, the squad formed up at the intel console as Jensen swiped schematics to the big screen for everyone to see.

"Here is what we've got. Tau Ceti have hijacked this vessel and pulled it off the shipping lane to this area here." Jensen indicated a spot on the screen and then enlarged it for everyone to get a better view as Sgt. Weber continued with the briefing.

"The ships are both locked together and dead in the water, running on reserves. That means we'll be operating in a low light environment. Check your IR gear before we load up. Remember they use an active camouflage, so if your gear is not working you'll likely be dead before you have any idea who's shooting at you." He looked around to make sure he had everyone's attention. "We'll be taking shuttle number two and making entry at this aft maintenance access here." He pointed to a section just in front of the main engine casing. "Because we're using that access we shouldn't have to do any cutting, but we'll bring the gear just in case." Tau Ceti vessels could be a mishmash of different systems and components. There was no guarantee anything still matched the original design specs and they might have to cut their way through the hull with special tools. Sgt. Weber's hope was to get in fast and start killing bad guys before they knew what hit them.

"This is a Class B vessel, which usually supports a crew of about fifty, so plan on having at least that many bullets." That drew grins from the squad. He turned to his two team leaders, "Jackson and Lena, we're going to combine the teams and move down the main corridor and clear compartment by compartment. We'll hit the big stuff first and then move on from there. My biggest concern is clearing the engine room. It may not be operational, but that's not to say they can't make something nasty for us, so we'll hit that first."

"What're our rules of engagement on this one, Sarge?" asked Jackson. The answer to this question would make a big difference on how they approached the op. If there were potential friendlies, they'd have to be more cautious and take more time choosing their targets. They would be held responsible for any friendly casualties and no one wanted to face court martial for making a mistake.

"This is a Tau Ceti vessel and there are no reported prisoners on board. The cargo vessel's crew have managed to keep them at bay, so anything moving is Tau Ceti and you are authorized to shoot first and ask questions later." There were a few surreptitious fist bumps but everyone kept a cool, professional demeanor. "These are Tau Ceti, so the likelihood they'll surrender is zero, but if one chooses to, try not to kill them." He eyed the squad to make sure everyone understood. "If there are no questions, let's load up"

They all started for the shuttle until Lena cleared her throat, "Uh, Sarge? What are we going to do with Rayne?"

"Ah, hell, I totally forgot about her." Sgt. Weber stopped short and turned to Rayne. "Rayne, you're staying here. Report to Dr. Little until we're back." Thinking the matter settled, he turned toward the shuttle.

"No." Rayne said firmly.

Sgt. Weber stopped and turned. "What?"

"I said, no," she repeated.

"Rayne, I don't have time for this," Sgt. Weber said in exasperation. "You're not trained, you're not equipped and you're not a marine. Now get yourself over to med-tech and hang with Dr. Little until we're back. That's an order." This had been the first time the sergeant had needed to be forceful with Rayne and he wasn't sure how she'd react. "If you can keep it together, then I'm sure he'll walk you over to intel and let you listen in."

"I will not be staying behind and you will not make me." Rayne said through gritted teeth.

Sgt. Weber did not want to be dealing with this right now and they needed to be on their way five minutes ago. He hated to short himself on numbers when he was going up against superior numbers, but it looked like Rayne wasn't going to leave him any choice.

"Okay, fine. Lena, you're staying behind with Rayne." He assumed Rayne didn't want to be parted from Lena. They'd become pretty close over the last two weeks and Lena was the only person who could interact with the girl.

Lena wasn't happy about being taken out of the action, but could see the sergeant was in a difficult position. Someone needed to look after Rayne, and that someone could only be her. She turned to Rayne and took her arm as if to guide her toward Dr. Little's lab. Lena was surprised when Rayne pulled away and stood her ground.

"Sgt. Weber, I know I am no marine, but I will not be left behind. Those are Tau Ceti who killed my family and I will see their death. Neither you nor all of you standing here will stop me." Rayne fought for control as she restrained herself from howling in anger and screaming for death. That wouldn't do her any good here. She needed to display some level of sanity or she'd never get close enough to the fight to kill like she wanted.

Everyone but Lena stood shocked. Those were the most words Rayne had spoken to anyone but Lena, and the first show of independence she had displayed. She had simply followed the group without saying a word. They all looked to Sgt. Weber to see what he would do.

"Okay, you can come on the shuttle, but you're not leaving it, and Lena stays with you. That's the only compromise I'll make. If you won't agree, we'll fight it out right here." He crossed his arms and prayed. Neither option was a good one. If he allowed her on the shuttle and she was hurt, he would be in some serious trouble. If they had to fight her, he thought they could win, but at a cost that would likely leave half the squad out of action. On the other hand, the girl could fight. He had seen that for himself. If she wasn't so screwed up in the head, he'd put her in the gear and have her lead the formation.

Everyone stood tensely for several seconds while they waited for Rayne's response. She finally gave a short nod and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

***

The squad lined up at the door to the shuttle, waiting anxiously for hard dock. They all wore IR goggles pulled down over their eyes in the dimly lit cabin. Silenced weapons were gripped firmly in gloved hands and they checked and rechecked their gear before the door opened and the chaos began. Jackson was on point and would be leading the team down the corridor, calling out threats and doors as they went, signaling those following to take cover or peel off to search adjacent rooms. Sgt. Weber stood at the back, positioned so he could oversee the action and direct people to where they were needed most in the confusion.

The sergeant made a final comm check.

"Pilot says thirty seconds to hard dock. Everyone sound off."

Each member of the team repeated their number and used one hand to slap the back of the marine in front, to let them know they were ready. The shuttle came to an abrupt halt as it made contact to the outer hull of the Tau Ceti vessel. Electromagnetic locks engaged and the door opened onto a narrow corridor, dimly lit with red emergency lights at long intervals.

Jackson stepped smoothly out the door and to the left toward the engine room. They moved at a medium, smooth pace. There was no running or shouting; at least not yet. That would certainly come later when the bullets started to fly, but for now, until contact was made, they would proceed quickly and quietly.

"Open door left," Jackson called quietly, stopping to cover the corridor as two marines automatically split off to search the room while the remainder of the team waited in the hallway. Everyone knew their job and didn't need to be told what to do. The room was empty and the two marines called out before reemerging to prevent the possibility of friendly fire. Sgt. Weber marked the room on his tactical heads up and the group continued down the hall. They moved forward for several minutes in like fashion without meeting any resistance, until finally reaching the engine room.

"Stack up on the door," Sgt. Weber directed. "Flash and clear." He gave the order to use flash grenades before entry to blind any hostile force. The grenades let out a high intensity burst of light without sound to allow them to continue their mission with the stealth needed to prevent the rest of the ship being alert to their presence.

Davis was in second position and pulled the pin on the flash grenade. He held it up for everyone to see. They all turned their heads to the side and closed their eyes tight as he tossed it through the open door. A silent, supernova of intense light blew through the darkened doorway, followed immediately by the marines. Silenced weapons chattered as marines moved through the room, eliminating threats as they went. In less than ten seconds the room was clear and quiet, without the Tau Ceti getting off a shot.

Sgt. Weber was pleased. They had hit their main objective, cleared the bad guys without casualties and done it without giving away their presence. This would allow them to continue through the remainder of the ship, while still holding the element of surprise. He didn't allow himself to get too cocky, though. By his count, there were only a dozen downed pirates in the engine room, which left about another forty in the remainder of the ship somewhere.

Automatic gunfire echoed distantly through the quietness of the ship. The squad listened for several moments to the intermittent bursts of fire intermixed with the muffled sounds of yelling and the thump of a grenade. Not sure what was happening, Sgt. Weber signaled the team to move down the main corridor running the length of the ship, clearing each room as they went. There wasn't supposed to be anyone but Tau Ceti on board, so if they were fighting amongst themselves, that was alright by him. They'd take their time, let the enemy fight it out, and mop up what was left.

***

Lena's gut told her something wasn't right. Her experience with Rayne practically screamed it. Rayne had always been nervous and jumpy at the slightest sound, touch or movement. She'd always seemed on the verge of losing it, bursting forth in a fit of anger and rage. The Rayne that sat before her now was a completely different creature. She was...still? Expectant? Not tense, but not relaxed, just...simply ready. It was like the calm that settled before the first strike of lightning during a storm. She could almost feel the electric charge building in the air.

Lena thought to warn Sgt. Weber, but he was focused on his preparations as they neared the disabled vessels and she didn't want to knock him out of his rhythm if it wasn't absolutely necessary. What would she tell him anyway? That Rayne was unbalanced and she had a gut feeling something bad was about to happen. No, the sergeant needed to stay focused on what he was doing and the squad didn't need the distraction. Whatever was about to happen, she would have to deal with it herself.

The shuttle jolted to a stop and several seconds later the squad filed through the door and into the near darkness. She listened to the comms crackle in her ear as they moved quietly through the ship. When Rayne suddenly stood and moved to the door, Lena stepped in her way, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"You can't go out there. You told Sgt. Weber you would stay here. That was the deal."

"I'm going to kill them, Lena." She pulled an automatic pistol from her waistband. "You can come or you can stay, but you can't stop me."

"Shit," she Lena swore, knowing she right. They'd spared enough for her to know that. Even at half speed, Rayne couldn't be touched. Lena was no slouch when it came to fighting, but Rayne was wicked fast even when she was holding back and Lena knew she'd never win the fight short of shooting her. Now that she was in possession of a weapon, there was really only one option; stick with Rayne and try to keep them both from dying.

She was going to get into some serious trouble for this, but if they were going to do it, she'd make sure Rayne had the right equipment. Reaching into an equipment locker, Lena pulled out the spare body armor.

"Put this on. Can't have you getting all shot up or I'll be in more trouble than we're already going to be." Rayne shrugged herself into the armor and Lena helped her strap in. She held up the IR goggles, which Rayne took and tossed to the side. "You're gonna need those, girl," Lena said crossly.

"No, Lena. I won't." Rayne moved forward, her automatic pistol pointed forward and held tight into her body. With a predator's grace she stepped into the hallway and began stalking her prey.

Lena was mystified at how Rayne was navigating through the gloomy corridors. Her head was on a swivel and she was severely agitated as they moved past rooms without clearing them. Doing so ran cross-grain to Lena's training and she had tried to pull Rayne back at the first doorway. Rayne had shrugged her off and said quietly that no one was inside. How could she possibly know that? But she said it with such confidence Lena reluctantly relented and they moved forward.

They moved quietly for several minutes, when without warning Rayne punched out with her pistol and snapped off a short burst. The blast of gunfire from the un-silenced pistol echoed down the hallway and a body fell to the ground before Lena had even seen where it came from. She cursed quietly under her breath at having not thought to give Rayne a silenced gun. Now, everyone would know they were here.

Rayne punched out twice more, in short, controlled bursts as they moved through the corridors, two more figures dropping to the ground. Lena inspected the bodies as she passed and found each with three holes blasted through the center of their faces.

Rayne stopped abruptly, pulling Lena into a side door. Heavy footsteps sounded down the hallway and passed quickly by. Leaning out the doorway, she let lose several quick bursts. Lena felt totally wrong-footed and off her game. She had no idea how Rayne had seen the Tau Ceti coming and was now feeling completely useless as Rayne dropped half a dozen more.

"They're swarming now," Rayne said calmly, dropping a magazine and inserted a new one. "Time to move." They took a back exit out the room and moved up an adjacent corridor. Gunfire erupted, and bullets splattered on the bulkhead, spraying shards of sharp metal. The two women returned fire, Lena's silenced rifle unheard over the roar of Rayne's bursting automatic.

"Grenade out!" Lena yelled and tossed a plasma grenade down the corridor. The explosion rocked the corridor and the gunfire ceased. Rayne left cover and walked quickly to the dozen or so still moving, prone figures, and fired a burst of automatic fire into each, moving forward without pause. Gunfire burst around her and she returned it with a roar of automatic fire of her own. Figures burst from a side door and she struck with vicious blows at a speed impossible to follow. Skulls cracked against metal bulkheads and bones snapped, followed by bursts of automatic fire as her gun fired from point blank range. Rayne screamed in rage as she stepped into the middle of the remaining horde of Tau Ceti. The predator inside had finally broken free and promised death with every strike and pull of the trigger. Lena worked her rifle frantically, shooting at figures as they attempted to close in on the whirling tornado of death in their midst.

The last Tau Ceti fell to the ground with a sickening crunch as Rayne stood in the midst of the carnage. She was splattered in their blood and her chest heaved as she breathed in and out in great, shuddering gasps. Her fist was white as it grasped her gun and she let out an inhuman scream of challenge and dominance.

Rayne visibly fought for control over the beast inside as it howled again for its freedom. The freedom to hunt and to kill. She took great heaving gasps, pacing back and forth over her prey. She let out a short barking growl, seeming to gain control in small increments, while continuing to take deep breaths through her nose.

Lena watched from a distance down the hall, not sure if it was safe to approach. Taking a beating from the girl was one thing, but Rayne still had a weapon in her hand. She wouldn't be sticking her head out until she was sure Rayne wouldn't blow it off. She heard movement down the hall and cursed as she saw Jackson and the rest of the squad emerge from the gloom.

"Stop!" she practically shouted over the comms. "Don't come any closer." She waved her hands frantically for them to stay back.

Jackson pulled up short.

"Lena? What the hell you doin' here?" He kept his voice low, unsure if there were hostiles in the area.

The squad took defensive positions while Sgt. Weber carefully made his way forward.

"You're supposed to be in the shuttle with Rayne," he hissed. He looked around but was unable to see her in the darkness ahead. "Where is she?"

"Rayne finally went psychotic, Sarge..." she nodded up the corridor, "... and if you move any further up, you're going to be joining the rest of the Tau Ceti lying on the floor."

Are you serious?" Abena exclaimed.

"I knew something like this would happen," Jackson muttered.

"Did she kill them all?" Sgt. Weber asked, incredulous.

"I got a few in but, yeah, she killed them all." The squad expressed the surprise as one.

Sgt. Weber let out a string of curses, closing his eyes tightly, waiting for a few moments for his brain to find its footing. "What's her status now?" he asked, finally looking up.

"I think she's back from her trip, but I'm guessing she's going to need a few more minutes before its safe for anyone to move up."

"I ain't going down there," someone said from the darkness.

"Oh, hell, no," came the reply.

"I wasn't talking about you morons," Lena bit back. "I'm not even gonna go down there right now."

Sgt. Weber cursed. "Okay, Jackson. Take your team and make sure the rest of the ship is secure. Taft, Abena, Callahan. Secure this section and make sure we're clear while Rayne finishes her vacation." The sergeant turned his attention back to Lena. "What the hell happened?"

"Soon as you guys left, she got up and headed for the door. I stepped in her way and tried to talk her down, but she was going to go right over the top of me if I tried to stop her."

He nodded in understanding. He didn't like it, but given a similar set of circumstances, he knew there really wasn't any other choice.

"Where the hell did she get a weapon?"

"Hell if I know, but she pulled it out and said she was going to kill them all. Told me I could get out of the way or come with. I chose option 'B'. I figured I'd lead the way and keep her out of trouble if I could; turned out it worked the other way around." Lena took a deep breath and continued. "Sarge. She's not wearing IR goggles, but she didn't need'em. It's like she can see in the dark and knew where the bad guys were headed before they knew it themselves."

A low laugh sounded from the darkened corridor where Rayne stood. This was followed by a stream of curses, damning the Tau Ceti to whatever burning hell they believed in and several bursts of automatic fired.

"I think she needs a little more time," Lena said seriously.

"Good plan," the sergeant agreed.

Ten minutes later, Rayne had finally fallen into silence and Lena felt safe to make an approach.

"Rayne? You okay?" She edged further into the gloom and stepped across the bodies sprawled on the floor. "Rayne, where are you?"

"Here," came the soft reply. She sat in a darkened corner with her back to the bulkhead. She looked tired but strangely calm and satisfied. Lena sat down beside her.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Lena asked, inspecting Rayne for injury. Impossibly, there were none. How could someone come away from an engagement like that without a scratch?

"No," Rayne replied. "I feel just fine." In truth, she'd taken several deep slashes on her arm, a stab wound that had punctured a lung and a few bullets through her thigh and calf. However, the bio gel now integrated with her DNA had sealed the wounds and started to regenerate damaged tissue and there was already no evidence of injury.

"That was some crazy shit, girl."

Rayne laughed quietly.

"Yes."

Lena wasn't sure what to say to that, but reached for the first thing that came to mind.

"Good shootin'."

"Lots of practice."

Lena snorted. "I'll bet. Let's not do that again for a while, okay?"

"Sure," came the tired reply.

***

Jackson had returned with his fire team from his sweep of the ship, declaring it clear. Mike circled them up, with the exception of Lena, who was quietly talking with Rayne at the end of the corridor.

"I just gave the all clear. The maintenance crews should be here in about an hour, so we've got that long to get our stories straight."

"What ya mean, Sarge?"

"Don't be thick, Taft," Davis said punching him in the arm, drawing a mild protest. "If anyone finds out Rayne not only took part in this op, but went on a murderous rampage and killed most of the Tau Ceti before we could get to them, they'll lock her up and Sarge and Lena will take the fall."

Understanding dawned on Taft's face.

"Shit."

"Shit is right," Jackson said. Everyone waited intently for Mike to continue.

"As far as everyone is concerned, Rayne never left the shuttle." They nodded their assent and Mike let out the breath he'd been holding. It was nice know his squad had his back.

"What about the pilot?" asked Davis.

"We don't have to worry about him. He always locks the cockpit door before the op starts."

"Good. I guess we don't have to kill him then," Davis replied.

Mike hoped he was joking.

***

Sgt. Weber sat quietly while Captain Gault read over his after-action report. He normally submitted his report electronically, but the captain had asked him to his office and that made him extremely nervous. Sgt. Weber was worried the captain had somehow caught wind of Rayne's involvement in the raid, and he shifted nervously in his seat. He figured on taking some heat for her coming on the shuttle, but if the captain found out she'd killed more than half the pirates after escaping Lena's care, he'd really be in some hot water. While he might try and justify that the deaths had been those of Tau Ceti destined to die anyway, the counter argument would likely have come from the "what ifs." That was the benefit of hindsight. You could think of half a dozen different ways to have handled a particular job with the benefit of time and the collective opinions of those sitting around a room after the fact, but when you were on your own, with only seconds to make a decision, you usually picked the first thing that came into your head, and then prayed everything turned out alright.

Mike hated those self-righteous bastards that sat back in the soft, comfortable chairs and issued judgments on your choices. If they ever had any real-life experience it was forgotten in years of sitting behind a desk. They'd forgotten what it was like to make those critical, life-altering, snap decisions; and the worst ones were those who made no allowance for the chaos that was combat. He could swear command caused mental retardation. It seemed the higher the rank, the less common sense had any sway. There were some, though, like Cpt. Gault, who understood you sometimes made bad calls. It happens. When it did, you changed course and moved forward to your objective. Still, the captain was a stickler for procedure and letting Rayne on the shuttle would get him in trouble, which is exactly why he had omitted that little detail. It wasn't exactly pertinent to the op and what the captain didn't know wouldn't hurt him. However, it was a small ship and if word got back, he would have some explaining to do. He already had a speech waiting and felt confident he could defend his position with a couple of carefully omitted facts.

Captain Gault finished the report and looked up for his data console.

"Good work, sergeant."

"Thank you, sir." Mike shifted uneasily.

"Nice and clean. No injuries and a bunch of dead Tau Ceti. I can't think of a better resolution."

"Yes, sir."

The captain sat quietly for a moment in silent contemplation before speaking. If Mike wasn't nervous before, he certainly was now as the captain eyed him with a contemplative stare. Oh, boy. Here it comes, he thought to himself.

"I've got a request for you, sergeant."

"Anything, sir." Mike didn't feel he was in a position to deny the captain anything and intended on being very accommodating until he knew he was in the clear.

"Don't agree too quickly until you know what it is I'm going to be asking of you. I want you to be fully informed before you get involved."

Mike was a little confused, having never been approached by his captain, or any other commander, like this before. The captain was a tough man. Mike respected him and would follow his orders, but his loyalty wasn't so strong that he would do something to jeopardize his squad or his career on behalf of the captain for anything less than a legitimate military objective. He was protective of his people and would not allow them to be used that way, not even by the captain. If he had to stand up to him, or anyone else to protect his marines, he'd do it without hesitation and the consequences be damned.

"Do you know why we were re-assigned to Alpha Centauri?" The captain cleared his console with a swipe and leaned forward with his arms on the desk.

"I assume they needed the bodies in that part of space, sir. I'm a grunt and don't really pay attention to that kind of thing. I go where I'm told."

"So, it doesn't seem a little odd that they'd move a small scouting vessel like ours over ten light years away?"

"I hadn't given it any thought, but now that you mention it, I guess it doesn't make much sense at all."

"No, it doesn't sergeant. I have been in this fleet for a long time and this is the first time I've experienced it or even heard of it happening. Alpha Centauri and the surrounding systems are full of human habitation and the resources to go with it. Believe me when I say they have vessels such as ours to go around and then some. So, the reason for doing so can only have one explanation. There is something..." he paused dramatically, "...or someone, aboard this ship they want."

"Rayne." What else could it be? Everything was odd about that girl from the get go. Her presence on the planet, how she ended up in a T80, in addition to being seriously messed up. The mounting number of oddities surrounding her didn't add up.

"I believe so. She is the only new element in the equation that would spark anyone's interest."

"Moving a ship and its crew that far seems a little extreme, doesn't it?"

"To people like you and I, yes. But believe me when I say, there are people where such a move is made on a whim, or to satisfy a point of curiosity. People who have enough clout to make it happen with nothing but a call."

"I know the kind of people you're talking about, sir. And you think they want Rayne? Why? I mean she may have one of the highest kill counts I've ever seen, but she is seriously unbalanced." Mike couldn't see why the girl was important enough to be sought in the manner that she was.

"Yes, unbalance, but there is a whole lot more to the girl than what you know, and I suspect more than what I know."

Mike shifted uncomfortably. Based on some of what Lena had told him, he guessed as much, but he couldn't reveal it without landing himself in trouble. Best to play along at this point and pretend he was completely ignorant.

"Dr. Little has been doing regular exams on the girl for the last several weeks and has been reporting his findings to me. He has discovered quite a number of anomalies, or changes, in the girl he doesn't have the expertise to explain."

"He doesn't have any idea what he's looking at?" He thought about Rayne's lightning fast speed and her reported ability to see in the dark without IR.

"He has a few guesses, but I won't attempt to explain them. What's important is that this information has somehow made it to Alpha Centauri."

"That's crazy. They're moving a single vessel and its whole crew just to get to one person? Why not just put her on a shipping vessel?"

"Partly chance and partly my fault. When Procyon Station first received Rayne for treatment, she was admitted as a Jane Doe, because we had no other information on her. Since then, using the transponder ID, I've been able to identify Rayne and her parents and any other pertinent data. When it became apparent early on that there was more to her than met the eye, I withheld that information."

"Is it possible she was already some kind of military experiment?" Mike had been convinced this was the most likely scenario for a fourteen-year-old girl ending up inside a T80 with such a high kill count. The military had been known to do some outlandish stuff in the name of building the better soldier and he wouldn't have put it past them.

"No, I don't think so. Otherwise, she would have been chipped like the rest of us. It would have been encrypted certainly, but it would still have been there."

In Mike's mind, that left only one other possibility. In some outlandish scenario, Rayne had ended up in the battle suit and fought her way through the most unimaginable and impossible circumstances possible to make it to the other side, to then have the fleet science weenies try and dice her up like a lab rat. That didn't sit well with the sergeant at all. He'd had a couple of buddies from basic who'd been "volun-told" to sign up for this special project or that research study and ended up coming out the other side good for nothing but collecting a disability check.

"You want us to help keep Rayne away from them." It wasn't a question. He could see where the captain was going and agreed with it whole-heartedly. He still felt some loyalty to the girl for her willingness to protect two of his marines during her rescue, and there was no way he'd abandon her to the butchers if he could help it. But with the resources pitted against them, he didn't see how they could win the fight.

"Yes. Are you willing?" the captain asked, sitting back in his chair to wait for Mike to respond.

"How far off the reservation are you going to be taking us, sir?" Mike liked his life in the marines. He liked the training, he liked the people, and he loved the combat. He was a risk taker, an adrenaline junkie and he loved the thrill of it all. He'd always figured the captain for a straight shooter, but this had all the hallmarks of a really wild ride. It sounded like fun and he'd be accomplishing two other things in the process. First, he'd repay a debt he felt he still owed Rayne, and second, he'd get to poke some scientists in the eye.

"I don't think we'll have to leave the reservation at all, sergeant. If we play this right, we won't have to do anything that will get you or anyone else court-martialed. At the end of this, I'm hoping to see Rayne starting a new life that doesn't involve being a lab rat."

"Count me in, sir."

"This is going to take more than just us. Can we get some help from your squad? Three or four should be enough."

Mike was fairly certain Lena would be in, but he wasn't sure about the rest. As it turned out, he needn't have worried; the entire squad with the exception of Jefferson and Callahan, who had family obligations to meet, all volunteered.

CHAPTER 6

The ship moved slowly in-system as it approached the outer planets. Alpha Centauri was a major hub of activity and commerce and space traffic was heavy. They'd hailed Fleet-Com as they approached the outer reaches of the system and had been directed to one of the several military lanes in use. With the exception of earth, Alpha Centauri was the largest center of human-populated space, and as such, the military maintained a large presence. It had started out as one of the first military and exploratory outposts and then grown from there. The shipyards, weapons research and development, and government-funded space exploration projects had given rise to a thriving, private economy that fed off them. Whether you were employed by the government or not, you made your money from their presence. With twenty billion people living in the system, the opportunities to make money were inexhaustible.

That many people occupying the same system made the space traffic heavy, no matter where you were. Even with the use of the military traffic lanes, things were tight; much tighter than the crew was used to and it made them nervous. Procyon Station was the busiest hub of activity they'd had to travel through, but the number of contacts on the navigation screens was impossible to track. Without the AI operated traffic controller, there would be total chaos. Naval ships, cargo vessels, small shuttles and mining tugs, swarmed the system like bees around a hive. The Fleet-Com AI controlled the movement of all the ships in-system. Nothing moved without its say so, and there was no deviating from the authorized course without permission. While it rankled ship captains not to have control over their own ships, there was really no other way to keep the multitude of inbound and outbound ships from colliding.

Their destination was the Alpha Centauri Naval Station, a mammoth facility which sat in geostationary orbit high above the system's only habitable planet, Athena. As they neared, the planet turned from a bright star on the view screen to a shining blue ball floating in space. Several large oceans spread across the surface and clouds swirled through the atmosphere. On the dark side of the planet, billions of lights shown in the population centers and the space traffic increased exponentially. Several large carriers moved slowly past, dwarfing their small scouting vessel. The views were breathtaking, and windows and viewports were crowded as the crew fought for the best place to see it all.

The naval station became larger and larger as they approached. Its scale was incomprehensible, nearly the size of a small moon. Ships of various sizes came and went as many more sat at dock on the surface of the station. Maintenance shuttles and droids filled the space like dust as they were moved in closer to their assigned berth. Electromagnetic locks engaged, sending a shudder through the entire ship as they came to a stop.

The captain gave the command relieving all non-essential crew, leaving them free to their own devices. Their re-assignment orders had said nothing other than to respond to Alpha Centauri. Without any kind of timeline, the crew would be on leave until recalled. Essential personnel, which included mostly engineering, would be rotated through duty assignments as required. The ten light-year journey had nearly depleted their fuel and that would be their main function until the task was complete.

The non-essential crew included the marines, and the captain had given Sgt. Weber instructions to get Rayne off the ship and planet-side as quickly as possible. The station was big, but not big enough to hide in forever. He needed to get Rayne down on the planet where hiding in the midst of its billions of people would be easier. In the meantime, he would conduct the business of the ship and delay whatever greeting party awaited them. If he knew his ex, she would show up in person. She'd want to be the first to see her new lab rat.

The captain went to his office and notified command that he had arrived at his new duty station. They were certainly aware, since it was the fleet's own AI that had brought them in, but it was procedure and they did like their procedures. He sent an additional query asking for pending task orders. He was told to hold his position and await visitors. That response alone confirmed his suspicions. Not only had they been moved halfway across space to get here, but once arrived had not been given any orders other than to stay put and wait for someone to show. Not very subtle.

He confirmed receipt of the order and waited. He'd half expected her to be on the station platform, waiting for the door to open. That's why he had dismissed the crew so quickly--to give the marines a fighting chance at getting Rayne out. Fortunately, his ex wasn't waiting and he hoped she had only just been notified of his arrival. He assumed it would take several hours for her to hijack a shuttle and make it to the station. That should be just enough time for the marines to get a shuttle planet-side without even having to get creative.

***

Rayne walked in the center of the knot of marines as they walked through the station's enormous bays and corridors. Other people, maintenance robots and lifts moved about in the thousands as they made their way through the chaos. They had slipped out one of the ship's small, side accesses, but they needn't have bothered. There was no one waiting to take Rayne into custody or anyone at the main access preventing any of the crew from leaving. From there, it was an easy matter to lose themselves in the chaos of the station and its thousands of inhabitants.

Rayne breathed easier in the expansive interior of the station. The cramped confines of their small vessel had been fraying her nerves and she had begun to pace the decks like a caged animal. Lena had been working overtime to keep her busy and occupied, but it hadn't been enough and Rayne felt ready to explode from the tension.

The marines kept a casual but tight formation around her and she found it difficult to see over their heads at the chaos. So many people and so much movement; it was hard to take it all in. Another large contingent of marines marched past in formation, shouting cadence as they went. A large cargo trolley rumbled slowly by carrying fuel rods for the newly arriving ships. Station crew members of a dozen different designations hurried by, intent on their assigned tasks. There was such a volume of talking, shouting and the hum and rumble of light and heavy machinery that it was finally a relief to reach the narrower, less busy corridors that would take them to the shuttle bays.

Rayne hadn't been told where they were going. Just that they were going planet-side for some R&R. She'd been made to leave her weapons behind. She felt naked without them, but weapons were prohibited by anyone but station security. It took some convincing, but Lena had finally talked her into handing them over. It was that or stay cooped up in the station. She could always pick something up later when they reached the open skies of the planet.

***

Sgt. Weber led the group as they moved through the crowds. Now that they were off the ship and into the interior of the station, he felt confident of being able to reach the shuttles without being stopped. Getting off the station would be relatively easy. There was no requirement for anyone leaving the station to have a military ID chip or visitor pass, so all they had to do was hop the next shuttle and disappear. The trick was going to be confusing the eventual pursuit. The ID chips could be tracked, and it wouldn't be the first time they'd been used to find a wayward marine in a civilian jail or AWOL. Like all tech, there were ways to get around it, but nothing they currently had available to them. So for now, they would have to improvise and confuse the pursuit until a better alternative could be found.

They stopped as they reached the shuttle bay access and Sgt. Weber repeated their instructions. They had discussed the options earlier and toyed with the idea of having each marine go their different ways, on a different shuttle, to a different destination. After some discussion the plan was revised. They reasoned that even to the casual observer, a squad of marines splitting up individually would tell the pursuers they were deliberately trying to evade them. Marines didn't behave that way. They went off as a group or in twos or threes, and to do anything else would let those searching for them know that they were being deliberately evaded. From there, it was simply a matter of deciding who would go with who and where. It was decided Rayne would go with two other marines, but the difficulty was deciding which one of them could handle her. While Lena had the best handle on dealing with Rayne, when whatever goons started looking for her, they'd start tracking Lena first. That eliminated her as a possibility just as it eliminated the sergeant.

Ultimately, they decided on Abena and Taft, who seemed the most unlikely candidates and would be the last to be tracked. Lena had made every effort to bring the two into her circle with Rayne but only with limited success. Rayne would talk to Abena and even allow physical contact, but she merely tolerated Taft's existence. Fortunately, Taft's main role wouldn't be dealing with her anyway; his primary function was protection and counter surveillance. While most of the members of the squad were more suited to the protection aspect of the assignment, Taft was unexpectedly adept at counter-surveillance.

Lena and Davis left together on the first shuttle outbound for the far side of the planet. Their destination was a small resort community on the coast where they hoped to see the ocean and try some surfing and a little fishing. They weren't an item, but had similar interests and frequently took leave together. Lena gave Rayne a quick hug before they left.

"You take care of yourself, girl. Stay out of trouble, okay?"

Rayne nodded back. She didn't completely understand why Lena was leaving her, and she was a little apprehensive to be without her calming influence. Abena was nice, but she wasn't Lena and if the darkness consumed her, Rayne worried she wouldn't be able to keep it together. Lena had simply said it was necessary, without giving any further explanation. That had been cryptic and Rayne began to worry that something more was going on than just a little shore leave and she had to admit, she was a little jealous about not getting to see and play in the ocean.

She watched the two marines board their shuttle, as well as several more of the group. Callahan and Jefferson both went their separate ways to deal with whatever family issues they had, while Jackson and Sgt. Weber left for some of the uninhabited zones for hunting, fishing and camping. Again, Rayne was jealous of their choice of destinations and longed to go with them, wondering again why she was being left behind.

Before leaving, Sgt. Weber approached and spoke briefly with Abena and Taft.

"You know your jobs. Get it done. I'm relying on you two." With that he slapped them on the back, said goodbye to Rayne and boarded his flight. Henderson was the only one left besides them and she would be leaving last. She had friends in a number of the cities that sprawled beneath them and would be spending her time jumping from one to another. Transport for military personnel was free, so she could travel as much as she liked.

The next shuttle settled into dock and the three waited outside the doors to enter. The doors slid open and they had to step aside for a woman and her entourage sweeping through. The woman stalked out with a purpose and quickly disappeared into the crowd, which parted for her passing. The marines entered the shuttle and settled in their seats, waiting for the rest of the shuttle to fill. Rayne leaned over and asked Abena quietly where they were going.

"Capital City for the Festival of the Dead," the marine answered with a reassuring smile.

It was a yearly event to commemorate the dead for the population's variety of different beliefs and traditions. Alpha Centauri was one of the first systems colonized after the human population began leaving earth to colonize space. Rather than celebrate festivals and holidays on a now irrelevant earth calendar, it was decided to lump everything in to one and celebrate it during the same week. Far from being a mournful event, it was seven days of carnivals, festivals, and fireworks. The planet's Catholics were the most solemn of the group, with their observance of All Saints Day, but joined in on the festivities as Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims and every other religion and culture celebrated the dead in their own way. It was quite a spectacle and the perfect place to get lost. Even when those wanting Rayne began to search, finding them amidst the million or so people in attendance would be nearly impossible.

***

Dr. Miller was giddy with excitement. In a few short hours she would be embarking on a research project with one of the premier scientists in any system. She felt she was as prepared as she could be and felt confident at being able to make a good first impression. She had her few possessions packed and held tightly to her data pad containing the sum total of her research so far. The first order of business would be contacting Dr. Gault to notify the doctor of her arrival, find out where the research facilities were and what the housing arrangements would be. Of course, all of that could wait while they transferred their test subject to whatever facility awaited them. She figured on nearly living in the lab for the next few weeks anyway, but having housing either in the complex or nearby would be convenient. Initially, there wouldn't be time for anything but the lab work, but eventually she would garner the information she needed to publish, and then planned on touring the conference circuit. She was getting ahead of herself, though. There was so much work to be done. She had a list of tests and procedures a page long and hoped they would fit in with Dr. Gault's own research and that they wouldn't come to cross purposes. She would start first with re-doing all the scans on whatever latest technology they had available. Then she planned on running the full Sarodian Stress Test to its conclusion. Following those, she hoped to administer a whole battery of psychological tests. She was excited and couldn't wait to get to work.

After the ship docked she made her way quickly to the station entrance. She hadn't gotten any word as to whether she would be met by someone or if she was responsible for making her own way to the facility. Since she had no idea what facility the research was being conducted at, she assumed someone would be there to meet her. So as she left the ship, Dr. Miller looked around for someone official who looked like they were waiting. She didn't see anyone immediately, so she took a seat on some nearby benches and waited. It was a big station after all and it would take time for someone to arrive. She decided to wait for an hour and if someone hadn't arrived by then, she would contact Dr. Gault.

As she waited, she saw the ship marines walk by, exiting from a small, secondary exit. They had formed a loose formation around her subject as they made their way through the station and the crowds of people and equipment. Good, she thought. The marines were escorting her test subject to the new facility. She wondered briefly if she should accompany them, but decided against it. It wasn't her responsibility to escort dangerous test subjects and she would just be in the way. Besides, she didn't want to ride in a secure transport locked up with a bunch of marines and her test subject. She'd wait for her ride and the more comfortable transport when it got there.

She rubbed her sore neck and head. She was still feeling the effects of a fall she'd taken several days ago. She wasn't sure how she'd ended up down by the marine barracks, but it must have been some fall judging by the size of the lump on her head. She couldn't remember exactly how it happened, but the marines had been very helpful and even escorted her personally to med-tech despite her assurances that she was fine.

She waited for approximately an hour and was just about to start making calls, when she saw Dr. Gault and her entourage making their way down to the loading dock. The doctor stalked purposefully though the chaos, a security detail following in her wake. Dr. Miller stood to greet her.

"Dr. Gault. I'm Doctor Miller. I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you." She meant it too. The doctor was one of the premier scientists in her field after all. Just hanging onto her coat tails would do wonders to further her career and push her into the limelight. Just the mention of Dr. Gault's name on her resume would be a big boost.

Dr. Gault stopped short and took the preferred hand.

"Likewise, Ms. Miller."

Dr. Miller rankled at the omission of her title, but didn't correct it.

"I see that you've made it here without mishap. I hope you're not too upset by having been relocated? The facilities and resources available on Athena are without compare and I couldn't in good conscience do it any other way."

Dr. Miller nodded her agreement.

"No trouble at all, doctor. I quite understand and am actually happy to be back planet-side again. Station life can become tedious."

Having got the niceties out of the way, Dr. Gault got straight to the point.

"Where's our test subject?"

Dr. Miller responded, somewhat confused.

"She was just escorted from the ship by the marines. I assumed she was being transferred to the research facility at your request."

Dr. Gault frowned.

"How long ago did they leave?"

"About an hour ago. They went that way." Dr. Miller's hopes of making a good impression were quickly melting away.

Dr. Gault motioned quickly to the two men she'd assumed were security. Without a word being exchanged they moved hurriedly back toward the shuttle births from which they'd come.

"Ms. Miller, I would have expected a professional such as yourself to have a better handle on things. I hope this isn't the kind of incompetence I can expect in the future." She gave Dr. Miller a withering glare.

Dr. Miller stuttered her response. "It's not my fault, doctor. Honestly...I...I..I've had no control over the subject since the station...the captain." She latched on to her scapegoat like a drowning swimmer. "The captain pulled her from station med-tech control after..." she paused for the right words, "...several incidents. He decided the station was ill-equipped to deal with her and said he would be seeking other treatment options." She hoped she didn't look too desperate while the doctor pondered this information.

"Other treatment options, huh? We'll see about that. Let's go see this captain of yours so I can show him which way this world spins." She motioned for Dr. Miller to lead the way.

***
Captain Gault recognized the staccato snap of her heels as they came up the corridor. He pretended to scan his data screen as she entered without knocking and didn't look up as she came to a stop in front of his desk. He was going to enjoy this. Without even looking at her, he could tell she was fit to burst. Pushing her buttons would be easy. When they were married, he'd done it in ignorance. Now, he intended to do it on purpose. It wasn't like she could divorce him again.

"I might have known," his ex said, striking a commanding pose with both hands on her hips as she looked down on him. She wore a tan, knee-length skirt and a white button-down shirt that hugged her slim figure.

He looked up and remembered she was quite an attractive woman. Don't get distracted, he told himself. She's a viper and no one knows better than you. He didn't smile as he replied.

"Lizzy, how can I help you?" He remained seated, giving her only half his attention as he pretended to scan his data console. He knew she hated it when he failed to give her his undivided attention.

"Don't Lizzy me. You know damn good and well why I'm here."

Cpt. Gault finally looked up from his console and rested his arms on the desk.

"Actually, no. Is it you I have to thank for relocating my entire ship and crew ten light years across space?"

Dr. Miller stood to the rear, looking back and forth between the two with some confusion. She desperately wanted to ask how the two knew each other, but didn't dare. Their last names were the same, but she'd assumed it was just coincidence. Were they related?

Dr. Gault didn't answer the question, getting straight to the point.

"Where's my test subject?"

It was time to play stupid. The captain had to hold back a grin as he replied.

"What on God's green earth are you talking about?" He could see she was about to hit critical mass and he waited for the top to blow. His ex was generally diplomatic and cool-headed, but when people started interfering with her research, she could become downright volcanic.

"Don't play dumb with me. You know who I'm talking about. The girl."

"The girl?" He managed a look of confusion. It was actually pretty good, he thought. He'd had dreams of becoming an actor when he was younger, until all things military had taken over.

"Yes, the girl. What's her name?" She turned slightly toward Dr. Miller.

"Um..." Dr. Miller fumbled through her data pad looking for the test subject's name.

"I've got a number of females on my crew. You're really going to have to be more specific." He tried for a look of sincere innocence. Not as good as his confused look, but still pretty good.

"Don't get cute with me, Jason. She is my test subject and I want her right now."

"Rayne. It's Rayne," Dr. Miller blurted as she finally found the correct data file.

"Give her over, Jason. She's mine."

"That sounds an awful lot like a claim to ownership, Lizzy. I'm not sure I care for that tone when speaking about a member of my crew." He didn't have to fake the look of annoyance that crossed his face. This was an old argument between them and one that had never been resolved. Dr. Gault felt what she was doing was for the greater good and treating them like anything other than a test subject polluted the scientific process. He'd argued that a person's humanity should never be forgotten, to which she countered that any emotional attachment to the test subject got in the way of objectivity and the difficult decisions that sometimes needed to be made.

"Don't get snippy with me. You know what I mean."

"In point of fact...Dr. Gault. She is not 'yours' in any sense of the word."

"What?" She threw the word out like a whip.

He maintained a calm, cool demeanor as he continued.

"My orders were to bring myself and my crew to this station. Here I am," he said, spreading his arms wide. "There is nothing in those orders directing me to hand over a member of my crew." He knew this next part would irritate the hell out of her. "Procedure dictates..."

"To hell with you and your procedures. You'll never change, will you, Jason?" She threw her hands up and pointed a long elegant finger toward him.

"It's what maintains order as you've heard me say many times before."

She made a face. "Until I was so sick I wanted to vomit, but okay. We'll play your game." She tapped the small black dot sticking to the skin behind her ear and made a call. "Admiral Ricks." She smiled and spoke sweetly to the person whose image appeared on her retinal viewer. "I've hit a bit of a snag in my procurement and was hoping you could push some paperwork for me. Yes, thank you. Name?" She motioned frantically at Dr. Miller.

"Rayne." She prompted.

"The subject's name is Rayne. No. No other identifiers. Will that be enough? Great. Thank you so much." She cast a sideways grin at the captain and continued her conversation. "I'll see you at next week's conference, won't I? Great. See you there. Thanks again." She hung up with a raised eyebrow and smug look.

Cpt. Gault knew she was capable of what had just occurred. He'd merely pushed the point for the sake of being annoying. Besides, it would have been out of character for him to do otherwise. He sat at his desk, waiting quietly as an uncomfortable silence settled on the group. He and his ex traded stares. Her retinal viewer flashed that she'd received a data package and she quickly pushed her procurement orders to the captain's data console. He read through it slowly, not to ensure its authenticity, but to make her wait as long as possible.

"Any day, Jason. Now where is my test subject?"

"Rayne. Her name is Rayne. Try and remember it, will you?"

"Whatever. Where is she?"

"No idea."

"What?"

"You heard me. No idea."

"You just made me go through all that, just to tell me you don't know where she is?" she said exasperated.

"It's procedure, Lizzy. I'm not allowed to..."

"Don't quote regulations to me or so help me I'll throw something at your head."

It wouldn't be the first time she'd thrown something at him. Fortunately, she was a horrible aim and had never connected. Although, she'd broken that ugly antique vase they'd gotten as a wedding present from her mother. That was worth the argument. The thing was hideous.

"That would be unwise," he said with a stern look on his face.

"Do tell." She cocked a hip and raised an eyebrow.

He tried to maintain eye contact, instead of the soft curve of her hip.

"As captain of this ship, I am the final legal authority for any crimes committed thereon. If you choose to assault me, you'll be sitting in my brig until..."

She cut him off. "Don't threaten me."

"You threatened me first. I was merely informing you of the pertinent sections from the military code of justice. I can give you the title and section if you like." He could too. While having her arrested would be immensely satisfying, her political clout would get her cleared and him before a review board.

"I'll pass, thank you." She was calming back down, which the captain took as a warning sign. She was at her most dangerous when she got this way; cool, calculating and absolutely ruthless. He needed to mind his step or she'd eat him for lunch.

"Tell me where she is. Dr. Miller says she left with your contingent of marines. Why wasn't she kept here for my arrival?"

The captain winced inwardly. That was a stroke of bad luck. He was hoping for a little more time before they started that avenue of investigation.

"My orders gave no direction regarding the girl. The marines, along with the rest of the crew were dismissed and Rayne apparently chose to leave with them."

Dr. Miller couldn't contain herself and exclaimed.

"You let that girl out into the public? Are you kidding me?"

Cpt. Gault turned to address her with a level stare.

"Dr. Miller, I believe I've expressed my opinion on your competence in regards to Rayne."

The doctor closed her mouth, obviously wanting to say something, but not having the courage to interrupt him.

"Over the course of the last month while she has been on my ship, there has not been a single incident that would suggest your diagnosis was correct." He may have been stretching the truth there, but he needed to justify her leaving the ship somehow. He was also blissfully ignorant of Rayne's attack on Dr. Miller several days prior, the marines having kept that secret to themselves. "I saw no reason or evidence to suggest that I should restrict her movements."

Dr. Miller opened her mouth to argue but was silenced by Dr. Gault with a gesture.

"Let me make sure I understand." The chess match had begun in earnest with those six words. Having been in enough arguments with her and seen her launch attacks on anyone stupid enough to oppose her, he knew it was about to begin. "The first thing you do when you arrive on this station is to immediately release your crew along with my test subject."

She was out of her depth here, though. She hated the procedure that ruled his life; found it got in the way of results. Dr. Gault made calls to important people and some poor bastard was left to make it look right on paper. She just didn't know the ins and outs and the advantage was his.

"Procedure, Lizzy."

"Would you stop calling me that?" She actually preferred the use of her full name, if it was used at all; otherwise nearly everyone called her doctor or Dr. Gault.

"Procedure...Lizzy, is to release non-essential crew from service unless there are standing orders, or pending orders, that would require them to stay aboard ship. As I've already pointed out, my orders were to come to this station. Period. Having been given no other directives, I released non-essential crew. That included the marines and that included Rayne. I can hardly be blamed that you and you contingent failed to be specific in your requirements."

Seeing she wasn't going to get traction on that point, Dr. Gault changed directions.

"Okay, fine. Is Rayne with the marines then?"

"No idea."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you being deliberately evasive?"

"Not at all, Lizzy. I just don't keep track of the comings and goings of my crew when they take leave. If it isn't pertinent to this ship's operation, I don't pay attention any more than you pay attention to where your secretary went on vacation or what your test subject's name is." He threw the last part in as a dig to their earlier argument. "I've got enough to worry about without keeping track of where they go on leave."

"When will they be back?" He could see she was starting to get annoyed again.

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks?" she asked, incredulous. "Unacceptable. You're stalling. You're deliberately trying to keep her away from me." Her voice raised on octave.

"Lizzy, I'm doing nothing of the kind," he lied. "It will take two weeks to refuel this ship for service. Traveling ten light years burns quite a lot of fuel," he said sarcastically, hoping to antagonize her a little more. "If you don't believe me, call your admiral friend. I'm sure he can confirm it." Oh, boy. She was flaming now. She was starting to get splotchy around the neck, the prelude to a major blow-out.

"Call them back, then. Right now." She punctuated each word with a finger on his desk and ended with slamming her palm down.

He replied with infuriating calm.

"Unlike you...Lizzy. They don't all have retinal viewers and dot phones glued to their heads." They didn't actually, but they all carried portable comms for emergency recalls, which they'd conveniently left in the barracks.

Her face got ugly and she screamed the next sentence as Dr. Miller backed wide-eyed into the corner, her data pad held to her chest as if for protection.

"I want my test subject and I want her now!"

There was the eruption he'd been waiting for. He was pretty sure he'd even gotten a little spittle on his cheek. He chuckled inwardly. Now to twist the knife in a little further.

"I think I've had enough of being yelled at by a 'civilian' on my own ship. Now that I think about it, I think I've been yelled at enough by you in particular while we were married."

Dr. Miller mouthed a silent, "Oh."

"You can leave...Dr. Gault."

Dr. Gault's nose flared as she appeared to consider her next move. Whatever it would be, it wouldn't be accomplished here. She stalked out without a word and the sharp clack of her heels echoed into the distance.

He'd kicked the hornet's nest now, but damn if that hadn't felt good. He leaned back in his chair, indulging in a wide smile.

***

Dr. Gault walked through the station, anger billowing like a thunder cloud around her. She was still too angry to speak, but the look on her face spoke volumes and the crowds parted before her. There were few people capable of making her as angry as she was now. Unable to speak, unable to think, unable to get what she wanted. As she exited the ship, the security officers she'd sent to the shuttle berths had informed her neither the test subject nor the marines were there and had likely already made it planet-side.

She'd had everything in place only to have her worthless excuse of an ex, muck everything up. She'd been deliberately thwarted. She was absolutely sure of it. The look on her husband's...ex-husband's face had made that plain enough. He thought he could pull one over on her, but he couldn't. He couldn't lie to save a life and the truth always showed in his eyes when he did. He'd made a passable attempt at it, but she'd known by the laughter spilling through his serious façade that what he'd done was deliberate and he was taking great joy in interfering with her work. No one messed with her work.

One of the station's crew looked up at the last minute and barely dodged out of her way as she came storming into the waiting area. She was still angry, but the long walk had helped her collect her thoughts and she'd now settled into cold, calculating fury. She'd been played. That much was evident and her ex was the author of it. She thought briefly about having him reassigned to some hardship post on the edge of the galaxy as captain of a cargo freighter, but then discarded the idea. That would be too easy and tantamount to admitting defeat. No, she would beat him. Did he think he could match wits with her? Not in this lifetime or the next. She'd play his little game and then crush him under the heel of her shoe like the little bug that he was, and then keep him around to rub his face in it. Oh, he should have remembered who he was dealing with. The man was so one-dimensional, he didn't have a chance. All he had was rule and procedure, while she had the entire resources of the military and government at her disposal without the need to play fair. She'd get her test subject back, even if she had to tear the whole planet apart to do it.

The next shuttle docked and its passengers disembarked. Dr. Gault drew a few angry stares as she cut to the front of the line, entering the shuttle with her security team who blocked access for the other passengers. She tapped her dot phone and dialed a number with her retinal viewer as she looked out the viewport window to the thunder clouds building on the planet below.

A voice answered on the other end and the doctor made her curt request.

"I need a retrieval team."

CHAPTER 7

Rayne was glued to the viewport as the shuttle descended into the atmosphere. Droplets of water slid sideways across the window as they passed through a storm cloud and then burst into the open sky beneath. The sun was setting on the distant horizon and the billowing clouds were a brilliant shade of orange. Rayne could feel the last heat of the sun's rays on her face as the shuttle made its way through the heavy air traffic to the ground.

The city beneath her was immense. Tall buildings of every shape, size and color dotted the landscape all the way to the horizon. Some were glass, while others were stone; some tall and others low and sprawling. The fading light brushed the tops of the tall buildings making them sparkle and shine, but the lower buildings were cast in shadow as the city's lights began to take over for the setting sun. Air cars, shuttles and vehicles of every imaginable type moved in a complex dance across the sky choreographed by the planet's traffic AI. Rayne noted multiple layers of traffic as they descended below the level of the tallest buildings, and then looked down to see specks that were people moving about on the ground.

Rayne began to feel a sense of panic start to creep into the pit of her stomach. So many people. How could she possibly track who was friend and who was foe? Where could she run? Where could she hide? She had no weapons, no armor and no defense. She closed her eyes to shut out the sensory input only to have her brain automatically pull up the others. She shut those down as well and listened to the hum of the shuttle's engines and concentrated on her breathing. She wanted to be normal. Rayne breathed in slowly and then out. She wanted to think normal. Her breath hitched in her throat as she fought the panic and frustration. Her brain thought in attack and escape vectors, the best targets for a kill shot and the best places for cover or concealment. She kept trying to tell herself there was no longer any need of that in a place like this, but her brain wouldn't listen.

She took a deep breath and held it for several seconds and then let it slowly out. She needed to do something or this was going to end in disaster when they got off the shuttle. There were relatively few people with them now, but after seeing the specks that were people on the ground, she knew it wouldn't be too long before she would be shoulder to shoulder with the city's masses.

Rayne thought back to the festival she'd attended with her parents as a child. Maybe she could pretend. It was a child's game for which she was a little too old for now, but if it kept her from striking out, perhaps she could make it through. She continued to concentrate on her breathing and wished, not for the first time, that Lena were still with her. Why had she left? She didn't understand, but wasn't going to cry over it. She dug through her memories of the festival with her parents, remembering all of the people, noises and bright colors. It was a happy memory and she held to it in hopes it would block the rest.

The shuttle slowed suddenly as it landed and the doors opened. The warm evening air wafted in, carrying along with it the smells of people, food, and concrete. Rayne grabbed Abena's arm and kept her eyes tightly closed as the cacophony of noises assaulted her ears. Unlike the station's shuttle berths, these were open to the air, and noise and people filed past on the platforms. She muted her hearing to a faint whisper to block what was going on around her as they made their own way down the platform and into the bustling crowds.

On the station, Rayne had been surrounded and protected by marines. The activity, while overwhelming, hadn't been near anything what she experienced now. There were thousands upon thousands of people moving through the corridors and sidewalks, jostling them at every turn as they made their way to whatever destination Abena and Taft had chosen. They did their best to keep Rayne sheltered but with so many people it was impossible to keep her completely protected. Rayne kept her hearing down, focused on her breathing, and thought of the festival dancing as she held tightly to her mother's hand.

"Rayne, ease up on my arm a little, will you? I think my fingers are going numb." Rayne relaxed her grip and Abena turned to Taft. "Where're we headed to first?" she asked, scanning the crowds and surrounding buildings.

"I'm thinkin' we need to ditch the military look first. I remember there being a mall just off the main plaza over there. It'll also give us a chance to get out of the crowd and give Rayne some space to breath." He glanced over at Rayne who still had her eyes squeezed tight, holding to Abena's left arm with both hands.

"You don't think we'll blend in with the rest of the military types walking around? We're not the only ones here," she observed.

Taft straight-armed a street vendor, pushing his way past.

"True, but if they start looking for us, they're going to be looking for the uniform first, and when we get to the festival, most everyone will be wearing civvies."

"True. You got a plan for where we're going to stay?" They made their way around a crowd listening intently to a musician playing his instrument while several other audiences gathered around the dozen or so other street performers.

"Most of the hotels and other rentals were booked. I checked as we came in-system. There're so many people here for the festival, almost everything's taken." They ducked past several more street vendors and pushed toward one of several buildings circling a square filled with people. "I found a Japanese couple that had a couple of rooms for the week. Totally got lucky."

"Is this the place you were talking about?"

They stood at the edge of a crowd who moved in time with the music being played by a small band on a stage at the center of the square.

"Yeah, that's it." Lights flashed and danced in the darkness, battling with the retail store's bright lights.

Abena moved to guide Rayne toward the mall but was stopped short by Taft.

"What?"

"Take Rayne somewhere quiet," he directed, raising his voice to be heard over the cheering of the crowd as the song ended. "See that bench over next to the wall under the overhang. That should be perfect."

"Where you going?"

The band began their next song and the crowd cheered louder.

"Let me do the shopping. I'll be back in a few."

He turned to leave, but Abena grabbed his sleeve, stopping him short.

"I'm not letting you buy my clothes, Taft. Knowing you, you'll come back with a miniskirt and a tube top."

"The thought had crossed my mind," he smiled. "But no, that's not why I want you to wait."

"Then why?" She put her free hand on her hip and glared.

"Come on, Abena, think. If we go in there, we'll have to use credit off our ID chip. If we do that, they'll see what we've bought thus making our change of clothes useless. I'm going to do some creative acquisitioning and having you two as an audience won't help."

Abena nodded in understanding, but then pointed her finger in his face.

"No miniskirt and no tube top. If you get anything sexy or inappropriate, I'll break your nose and make you go back in to get something else."

Taft held up his hands.

"Okay, Okay. I'll find a paper sack and you can wear that." He backed away and turned toward the store with a grin on his face.

Abena scowled and guided Rayne to a seat in the quiet semi-secluded seating area. It was separated by low hedges and lit by a single light. Rayne kept her eyes closed tight and began to rock herself back and forth while Abena rubbed circles on her back in hopes of keeping her calm. She looked anxiously around, hoping they were far enough out of the way to be left alone.

***

Rayne kept trying to focus on the memory of her parents and the festival as she rocked herself forward and back. She found the movement gave her agitated body and mind something to do as she tried to remember. She remembered her father being so serious and her mother telling him to lighten up. She'd punched him lightly on the arm and then pulled them into the dancing crowds. It had seemed like hours they had spun and danced to the music and even her father had finally relaxed enough to enjoy himself. They'd finally stumbled off to the side, exhausted from the fun, just watching the crowd as it continued non-stop throughout the night.

Rayne's focus slipped and her brain flashed a warning. There were targets everywhere. Impossible numbers to defend against and she felt her adrenaline spike and her stomach twist. No, she shouted in her head, but her brain kept blasting the warning and opened up the data pathways to track them all, searching for escape routes. Rayne clamped down and focused on her breathing, fighting for control. The sane part of her brain, the part that knew she was free and safe, told her she could relax and that there was nothing to fear here. It told her she could be normal, that she could laugh and have fun and dance with the others. The T80 side of her brain screamed for her to lash out and defend her position. It told her to search for and eliminate the targets around her, unable to determine friend from foe. It looked for attack patterns, ambushes, escape routes, and to prep weapons that she no longer had. The battle in her brain was a standoff, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could stay on top before the other side took over.

"Hey, soldier girl." A group of five young men sauntered toward their bench. Abena cursed quietly as they fanned out around them. They were all in their late teens and had the look of street gangs you'd find on any human-inhabited system. The styles and colors changed from place to place, but the predatory look in their eyes and the way they walked did not.

"You look hot, baby." The one in front, obviously the leader of the group, stepped closer. The leering smile on his face was anything but complimentary.

Abena tried to look calm.

"Go away. Not interested."

"Come on now, you don't have to be that way. It's a party, why don't you come dance with us?" It seemed evident that dancing was the last thing on their minds and if Abena wasn't worried before, she was now. These guys weren't going to back off, and if Rayne got involved, they'd be picking bodies off the street. So far, Rayne had stayed in her own little world, but she knew that could change in an instant and whatever tenuous influence Abena had wouldn't be enough to save these guys.

"Look guys, my friend here is having some problems. Trust me when I say you don't want to be a part of it."

"Bad break up? I can take care of that." Mr. Tough Guy gyrated his hips obscenely and the rest in the group laughed. "Come over here baby and I'll make you feel all right."

Abena snorted. Men were pigs no matter where you went. Persuasion hadn't worked, so she changed tack, stood up, and squared off.

"I said, back off." She was decent in a fight, but even five on one was more than she could handle. But sometimes if you bared your teeth and barked loud enough, you could get a bully to back off.

"You gonna make me, bitch?"

"I'll say it again, back off." Abena pushed him in the chest with both hands, making him take a step back. As she did, she caught the smell the alcohol on his breath. Great, alcohol courage combined with the fear of being embarrassed in front of the group. She felt the chances of escaping without a fight drop to zero. "You're drunk and you're gonna get yourself hurt."

"Ho ho! Little soldier girl gonna kick my ass. You hear that?" The idiot stepped forward and looked down on Abena to emphasize his larger stature.

"Whoa, Whoa. Hey guys, why don't you leave my girls here alone?" Taft strolled into the small alcove with several shopping bags in hand. He had ditched his military wear in favor of a nice pair of pants and a loose-fitting dress shirt. He stopped next to Abena and tried to look pleasant and non-threatening.

The leader poked him in the chest with a finger.

"Kiss off buddy, we saw'em first."

He put his hands up.

"Hey, guys, we're not looking for any trouble. I was just doing some shoppin' for the ladies..."

Mr. Tough Guy interrupted.

"Shoppin' for the ladies? You buy yourself a skirt to go with that womanly face?" It was a lame joke, but the group laughed regardless.

Taft appeared to take no offense and made a joke of his own, hoping it would defuse the immanent altercation.

"Actually, no, I went with the high heels because they make my legs look longer." He continued hurriedly while their alcohol-filled brains tried to process what he'd just said, "Anyway, we gotta be goin'." He grabbed Abena by the arm and moved to help her get Rayne.

"Hey, I said we saw 'em first." Tough Guy pushed Taft back and squared off. It was obvious he was spoiling for a fight and there didn't appear much was going to prevent it, but Taft was determined to talk himself out of it just the same.

"Look, they're really not your type anyway. I mean, look at this one." He nodded toward Abena. "She's way too much for you and doesn't even really like men anyway, if you know what I mean." He said the last in a whisper behind a cupped hand as he leaned forward. "The other one, well, she's a total basket case right now and in need of some serious therapy. I'll bet there are half a dozen girls for a bunch of pretty boys like you..." He didn't get to finish.

"What'd you just call me?" The leader puffed out his chest and arms in the universally recognized sign of aggression for men everywhere. The rest of the group waited expectantly for their leader to make his move.

Recognizing his mistake, Taft back-pedaled fast to try and smooth things out.

"Oh, hey guys, no offense meant, I was just saying..."

"Offense taken." Mr. Tough Guy pushed Taft hard in the chest and took a wild swing. Taft ducked, returned with an upper cut that laid him flat before being tackled to the ground by two of the remaining four. Abena took the opportunity to take the next one out of the fight with a kick to the groin and then went down herself from a punch to the head that left her stunned. Taft landed a lucky punch to the throat of one of his two attackers, but was left trying to prevent the other one from choking the life out of him. Abena's attacker had straddled her torso and was attempting to rain drunken blows down on her head as she worked desperately to block them. She thrust her hips upward to throw him off balance and temporarily stop the punches, and then took the opening before he could start punching again to drive her bony elbow into his exposed groin. Her attacker cried out and fell to the side. Abena showed no mercy and followed up with a kick to the head, then moved to help Taft, who was turning purple. Using the heel of her boot, Abena drove it as hard as she could into his attacker's exposed ribs. She heard a crack and the swoosh of air as it exploded from his lungs. He released his grip on Taft and she followed through with a kick to the head.

Abena helped Taft to his feet.

"Let's get out of here before we draw attention." She looked over to see that Rayne was still seated on the bench, rocking forward and back, thankfully oblivious to what had just occurred. They quickly disappeared into the crowds, leaving their attackers to lick their wounds.

***

Mr. Lexington was a private contractor. He did the jobs the military wasn't able to handle. Too many rules and too many restrictions prevented them from getting the job done. And that was what he did, he got the job done, knocking down or barreling through any obstacle that got in his way. Sometimes people got hurt, but that was the nature of his job, and his status and classification protected him from the repercussions of his actions. The higher-ups that issued the orders would have to answer for what he did, not him. Although prudence would dictate if he wanted to continue receiving the lucrative government contracts directed his way, some amount of discretion would be needed.

Lex started his career in the military, and like many, began as an infantryman. He'd been deployed in a few minor conflicts but hadn't been able to do much that would enhance his career. Fortunately, he'd caught the eye of one of the intelligence operatives and been recruited into the program. As it turned out, Lex had a special talent for the work. He was devious, underhanded, and had a low moral threshold that allowed him to get the job done where others might balk. His intelligence and technical savvy allowed him to outthink both his rivals and his enemies, and after several years, those qualities put him at the top of the heap.

Unfortunately, military pay was nothing close to what could be made in the civilian market, so he started his own company. He took any contract he could get to start, civilian or military, to establish his reputation. Word quickly spread that if you wanted something done, you went to Mr. Lexington. After several years, he was able to pick and choose his contracts and added a number of top notch operatives to his team, which he'd coaxed from the military ranks with the promise of higher wages.

The current job was a retrieval for one of the military's many research and development contractors. They'd lost track of one of their test subjects and he was tasked with tracking her whereabouts and bringing her back intact. The file he'd been given was sparse in regard to information. He had a photo, some generic bio data and her last known location. He had a team currently working the surveillance feeds, but it would take time to sift through the mountains of data. He'd need a team ten times larger than what he currently had on staff to get it done quicker. Had that been his only information, chances of success would have been minimal, but the added information regarding a team of marines suspected of aiding her escape increased his chances. The standard military chip would allow him to track their positions and begin interrogations. If they had played any part in the subject's escape, he should be able to ferret it out in short order. He'd been given a fair amount of latitude getting the information he needed, but so far, he hadn't needed to push the envelope.

He'd already checked off PFC Callahan and Jefferson. They'd been the easiest to track, but also the most unlikely according to the information he'd been given. A quick check of their living quarters and data feeds had been enough to tell him he needn't dig any further for now. They'd shrugged their ignorance regarding the girl's whereabouts and he let that stand...for now. He'd come back to them later if he needed to. The other marine's movements, what was her name? He thumbed through his data file. Private First-Class Henderson. Her movements were erratic, making him suspect she was up to something. He had a team tracking her now, but so far, they'd just missed her at each of her several stops.

He had another team en route to retrieve Sgt. Weber and Cpl. Jackson for interrogation. As the marine squad's sergeant and fire-team leader, they were near the top of the list of either having the girl with them or knowing where she was. If they had the girl, they could have things wrapped up quickly. If not, interrogation would extract whatever information they had.

His current focus was the other fire-team leader, Cpl. Ramirez and one of the other squad members, Lance Corporal Davis. He didn't particularly care about Davis, but Ramirez was a high asset target, one he'd assigned himself personally to retrieve. The data file said she was very close to his target and that the two would likely be found together. There were two others on his list, but they were at the bottom and he didn't have another team to assign. He'd get to them eventually if the other more likely leads didn't pay off.

For now, Lex's attention was focused on his current target. They had just entered the outskirts of a small tourist community on the coast. He didn't pay attention to the name as they descended from the airborne traffic lanes to street level and passed through the many t-shirt, fishing and surf shops along the road as they headed for the beach.

"What's our range to target?" There were three other men in the vehicle, the minimum number he'd figured were needed for a retrieval of this type. These were all top-notch, ex-military, special ops guys that knew their business.

The man in the front passenger seat spoke. His eyes had a distant look, the telltale sign of someone accessing a retinal viewer.

"Sixteen hundred meters. Looks like one is right on the beach, but the other is popping in and out."

"Popping in and out?"

"Yeah. She might be in the water. That would block the signal every time she went under."

Their black hover car moved smoothly through the light traffic and onto the strip running parallel to the beach.

"Find us a spot over there and we'll move in on foot." They parked and got out, each wearing matching tan slacks, black polo shirts and sunglasses. If that didn't set them apart from the bikinis, board shorts and exposed and suntanned skin of those around them, the ear pieces and side arms surely would have. This wasn't a stealth mission and they weren't here to blend in or make friends.

"That's going to be Davis over there. Matches the picture." One of the team pointed toward the end of the dock where a lone figure sat fishing. They moved as a group, drawing stares as they went. They made no effort to quiet the noise of their boots on the dock's boards as they took positions behind where Davis sat.

"Lance Corporal Davis." It was a statement not a question.

Davis didn't bother turning around, but reached down into his cooler and took a sip from his cold drink.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Mr. Lexington."

"Good for you." He set his drink back down and gave his fishing line a few experimental tugs.

He got straight to the point.

"Do you know where the girl named Rayne is?"

"No idea." He began reeling the line in.

"When's the last time you saw her?"

He shrugged his bare shoulders, still not bothering to look up from what he was doing.

"She hopped one of the shuttles, I assume. I left before she did." He reached down into another cooler and began re-baiting his hook.

"So, you have no idea where she is?"

"Nope."

Lex was starting to get a little annoyed with the marine's indifference and had half a mind to have him dangled by his feet over the edge of the dock. The numerous battle scars on his bare torso suggested that might not go as smoothly as he was envisioning, so he decided to move on to his next target and come back to Davis if need be.

"Where's Corporal Ramirez?"

He cast his line back into the water.

"Surfing would be my guess."

"Surfing?"

Davis nodded toward the breaking surf and the dozen or so bodies bobbing in the water on their boards.

"You can swim on out to talk to her if you like." He took another long sip from his drink. "Or you can wait. She usually comes in after about an hour for a rest and cool drink. I got some here if you're thirsty." He nodded toward the cooler.

***

Lena hadn't grown up on the beach, but she loved it all the same. She was a city girl. Born and bred on some of the meanest streets in any system. She'd gone through her childhood with little to no parental supervision. She had no idea who her father was and her mother had worked herself to an early grave. Lena had been on her own since she was sixteen. She was in and out of foster care and group homes until she was eighteen and finally old enough to make her own decisions. Her first decision had landed her in jail on minor assault charges. The judge, thinking to make a point about fighting, decided mandating her enlistment into the marines would do her some good. As it turned out, he'd been right, and she'd found her calling in life. Rather than take the fight out of her, they'd seen the natural fighter in her and made her better and more disciplined. She loved the challenge of being a marine and loved to push herself as far as her body would take her.

But when you pushed yourself that hard, you needed the down time to match it. Lena had met that match in surfing. She wasn't great at it because the time on-ship just wouldn't allow for it, but she got out every chance she could. She loved the sound of the breaking waves, the cool water and the sun on her back as she bobbed in the swells of the ocean waiting for the perfect wave to come along. Her olive skin loved the sun and drank it in. She'd already started a very nice tan to make up for the months of space duty and was hoping to work on it a little more until she saw the group of four men approaching Davis.

It looked like the welcome wagon had arrived. Lena cursed. She'd been hoping for at least another day to enjoy the surfing and the company of the other surfers. She'd made some quick friends and had her eye on one guy in particular, hoping for a date. Oh, well. He was probably gay anyway. She slipped the tether from her ankle and watched for the next good wave. She waited for several minutes until she saw the one she wanted and began paddling forward. She noted the four men had moved from the dock to the beach, where they waited ridiculously in their tan pants and black shirts. Idiots, she thought. They must be sweating bullets. She picked up speed as the wave began to crest and rode down its face. She could have ridden it all the way in, but instead, reversed direction back up the face of the wave and over the top, where she was sent tumbling into the air to finally splash and disappear beneath the surface.

***

Lex stood in the sand, watching as Ramirez bobbed in the water.

"Scan for the girl." He knew from the file that Rayne didn't possess the standard military chip, which was odd, but the photo they'd been given would be enough for facial recognition. It was entirely possible she was among the hundred or so swimmers and surfers in the water. He watched the corporal begin to paddle for the next wave and stand to ride its face. Even at this distance, he could see she was lean and fit, and had to admire her bikini clad figure. He preferred blonds with lots of curves, but the rock-hard abs and tan skin were hard to ignore. He continued to watch as she suddenly switched direction and shot up the face and into the air, finishing with a spectacular splash into the water. He folded his arms and gave a snort of amusement, waiting for her to surface. Hopefully she'd seen them and would not make them wait. It was already getting damn hot and he couldn't wait to be back inside the air-conditioned comfort of the air car.

Several minutes passed and the corporal failed to resurface. Her board washed ashore, but he still saw no sign of her.

"Anyone see her?"

"No, sir."

"Spread out. Fifty meter spread in each direction." She couldn't have gone too far. He seriously doubted she'd drowned or her body would be washing up on the shore along with her board or she'd be floating on the surface. No, she'd just given them the slip and if she'd done that, she had something to hide. Hopefully, that something was a girl named Rayne. He needed more people on this problem and made a quick decision. Lex tapped the dot phone behind his ear and made a call.

"Leave Henderson and come to my location." He didn't wait for a reply as he ended the call and scanned the surf. He waved his team in and gave them their directions until reinforcements could arrive. "I want you two to keep a lookout. One eye on the water for Ramirez and the other on Davis. Split up if you have to." He turned to the man standing next to him. "You're with me." He jogged quickly back through the sand toward the car.

One of the benefits of being the boss was that you didn't have to take the crap jobs, like standing in the sand and burning sun. They hopped into the air car, powered up, and enjoyed the rush of cool air pouring from the vents.

"Where to, Lex?"

"Take us up and over the surf. I want a bird's eye view." The driver entered the overrides and the car rose into the air. Civilian traffic was strictly controlled by AI and moving outside the proper traffic lanes was prohibited without the proper authorization. Fortunately, Lex held that authorization. They reached one hundred meters quickly, then moved out over the crashing surf to circle the waves. After nearly an hour, they began expanding their search, moving up and down the coastline. When darkness fell, they were still empty-handed.

***

Mike picked this particular part of the planet for a reason. It was designated wilderness and no mechanized vehicles or devices were allowed on the ground or in the air. Even communications were prohibited as the area had been designated as a dead zone. An electronic barrier had been set up to block anything coming in or out. If you broke your leg, if you had a heart attack, or were attacked by a wild animal, you were on your own. No exceptions, no exclusions, and people looking for that true wilderness experience were required to submit a will and video authorization to participate. If anyone wanted to track them, they'd have to do it by traditional means; on foot.

It had taken Mike and Jackson two days to reach their current camp and they were at least eighty kilometers from anything resembling civilization. The dark granite mountains towered around them and the trees grew thick and heavy. They had set up camp next to a quick-flowing river which meandered through the trees and around a bend as it stretched to the south.

Mike and Jackson had spent the last several years working together and most of that had been aboard ship. It had been a while since either of them had gotten a chance to refresh their wilderness survival skills and they were enjoying themselves. There was a trail system than ran throughout the wilderness area, but they had left that for two reasons. First, they wanted to practice their land navigation skills in the heavy forest and mountains. In terrain this rough, it would be a challenge without the advanced tech they usually had at their disposal. It was always a good idea to know how to get things done without it. Equipment failed or got damaged. If that happened, you needed to know how to make do. The second reason was that they didn't want to make it easy for any team trailing them. The tracking chips all marines carried would make them relatively easy to find, but that didn't mean they had to make it easy to get to them. As an added bonus, the heavy tree cover would interfere with the signal. There were ways to completely block it, but they didn't want to appear as deliberately evading pursuit. As far as anyone was concerned, they were just a couple of jar heads out to have a good time and get in touch with nature.

They were currently attempting several different ways to catch the native fish, which were more aggressive than their earth counterparts and had more in common with sharks. Great care had to be taken not to lose bite-size chunks of flesh from any appendage close to the water. They'd tried regular fishing line first, but the fish's razor sharp teeth had cut right through. Jackson had caught one by luck when he stepped too close to the riverbank and nearly lost a toe to one that jumped out of the water for breakfast. The jump had landed the fish on the bank where Jackson had quickly retaliated with a large boot. The meat was good, and after having eaten one, they decided the taste was worth another try. They weren't keen on using themselves as bait again, so Mike came up with the idea to dangle a piece of meat to lure more of the fish onto the bank where they could be dispatched with another boot or rock.

Their scheme worked well and after twenty minutes they had enough fish for a large lunch. Mike skinned the fish and Jackson made a small fire, cutting several sticks to use as spits.

"How long do you think it will take for them to find us?" Jackson asked as he blew the embers into flame.

"Depends on who they send after us. Never, if they send station security."

Jackson chuckled.

"Those guys couldn't find their own ass with both hands. Can you imagine them out here? I'd pay good money to see that."

Mike laughed with him. No one liked station security and while they may know their station, there was no way they'd be able to operate in a wilderness environment. They didn't have the skills and they didn't have the equipment. For that matter, there were a good many marines that wouldn't be able to do it either. They may have gotten the basic wilderness survival, but that wasn't enough for most who'd been born and bred in the city and then spent most of their careers in space. You could throw them in the forest for a week and they probably wouldn't die, but unless they'd been planet-side in some kind of conflict or received specialized training, they wouldn't be able to track two marines who knew their way around a forest.

They'd both been deployed to combat zones that required the kind of skills they were currently using. They knew how to navigate, feed themselves, and make shelter with minimal gear. They also knew how to track a man, cover their own back trail, and set traps. They hadn't tried to hide their own trail, though they had set a few false trails to make it seem like they didn't know what they were doing and to drag out the pursuit.

Mike handed Jackson the fish he'd been working on, which he spitted and began turning over their small fire.

"My guess is they'll send someone who knows what they're doing. Spec ops or something." He finished the second fish and laid it out on a rock that was relatively clear of dirt.

"How do you think Taft and Abena are getting along with Rayne?"

He let out a heavy sigh.

"I don't know, Jackson. I think that may have been one of the stupidest things I've ever done. I'm worried as hell."

"It was a good call, Mike. Risky, but a good call."

"You think so?" He swiped the fish guts out with his fingers and flung them into the water.

"Look. We talked this through before we split up. There were only two people that could handle Rayne at all, and with the psych doctor watching her like a hawk, there was no way it could be Lena. It had to be Abena."

"I know. Don't get me wrong, Abena's a good hand, but she's not Lena. And Taft..." He left the rest unsaid.

"Yeah, Taft has some issues, but he has the skills needed for the job. You remember that time he fooled station security with that disguise, then stole all their liquor? Or hacked the station's personnel records to get that girl's name so he could ask her out? The kid has the skills, Mike. Sometimes you gotta take the leash off and see what they'll do."

"I know, but if Rayne loses it, neither one of them is going to be able to stop it."

"That's a risk. It's always been the risk, but if we're committed to helping this girl out then we gotta take it."

The first fish was cooked and Jackson began pulling the hot meat from the bones with his fingers and putting it in his mouth. Mike finished gutting the next fish and put it over the fire.

"You know what the captain's plan is?" Jackson licked the juice from his fingers.

"No, he wouldn't tell me. I guess the less I know the better when they finally catch up to us."

"How far do you think they'll go with the questioning?" Jackson finished the last of his fish and tossed the bones into the nearby river. The sound of fish thrashing as they fought over the scraps could be heard over the sound of the water.

"I'm guessing it won't be friendly or polite, whatever it is." Mike grabbed his own fish off the fire and began eating, passing Jackson another.

"You think they'll jack us in to the box?"

"Probably. From what the captain says, they really want Rayne, and if they'll go so far as to send a team after us, then they'll probably use the box."

"Damn. I hate that thing."

"No kidding."

***

They'd hopped several trains and a few buses before finally reaching their destination in the sprawling suburbs surrounding Capital City. Abena had argued for a taxi service until Taft had pointed out that, not only did they log all pick-up and drop-off points, but also snapped photos of the passengers. At least with public transportation, they had a chance of avoiding the surveillance cameras scattered throughout the streets, platforms and cars with the added advantage of using the crowds and their recently acquired hats to shield their faces.

Abena had been annoyed with Taft's choice in clothes. He'd pulled the orange flowered and shapeless dress from the bag and tossed it to her with the comment that it was neither a tube top nor a mini skirt. It was two sizes too big and billowed like a sail on a ship. She'd stripped her uniform shirt off to the black tank top underneath and pulled the dress over her head; her black boots stood out in comic contrast. To add to her new look, Taft had tossed her a wide-brimmed sun hat made of some organic fiber native to Athena. It had a large blue flower that clashed with the color of the dress.

"You're kidding, right?" She turned the hat over in her hands. "This was the best you could do?"

"It was on sale. What do you expect?"

"You stole it for heaven's sake, who cares if it was on sale? Try stealing from the cool rack next time." She pulled the blue flower from the hat, tossed it in the bushes and jammed it on her head.

"Beggars can't be choosers." He took the uniform shirt she'd thrown at him and stuffed it in the shopping bags.

"What'd you get Rayne?" Abena glanced over to Rayne, who was sitting on the ground with her back against the wall. Her head was buried in her knees, her hands clasped tightly behind her head, her knuckles white.

"Here, try this." He handed over a small bag. "I've got a couple of other things if that doesn't work." He stood where he was and remained on look out while Abena pulled the clothes from the bag and thought about how to approach Rayne without losing an arm. After looking at the clothes, she considered switching. The ones Taft had given her for Rayne were considerably nicer, unlike the grandma clothes he'd given her. She turned an annoyed look at Taft, who returned an innocent expression.

"What?"

"Nothin'." She approached Rayne cautiously, calling her name several times. After getting no response, she inched closer while continually repeating her name. She reached out tentatively and touched her lightly on the arm. One instant Rayne was there, and the next she was ten feet away crouched for an attack.

"Shit! Rayne!" She held up both hands, one with the clothes still clutched tightly. "Rayne!" She cursed repeatedly. Rayne was wild-eyed and on the edge of snapping. Fortunately, they were in a relatively quiet park off the beaten path and there were very few people. Abena put up a calm exterior even though she was nearly as panicked as Rayne.

"Rayne. No threat here. You're safe. We've got some different clothes. Come on, girl. Ease up. There's no attack." She repeated the words several more times, hoping to see recognition in the girl's eyes. For several long minutes there was nothing, and then the predatory stance vanished as Rayne fell to her knees with a look of wild panic in her eyes. She gulped and gasped for air and the struggle for control was plain as she dug furrows in the ground with her fingers. Lena had always told her to focus on her breathing and Abena repeated those instructions now. She didn't dare approach as Lena would have, but continued to give her directions from a distance until it was safe.

It was several long minutes before Rayne finally raised a tear-streaked face with some semblance of sanity in her eyes. Abena stepped cautiously forward with the clothes in hand and knelt quietly beside her.

"You okay now?"

Rayne replied with a nod of her head.

"Taft got us a change of clothes. Mine are damn ugly, but I think he managed to get you something half decent." She helped Rayne strip off the uniform shirt and pull a knee length sun dress over her head. It was white and made of a nice homespun material, which Rayne smoothed with her fingers. They pulled the uniform pants off and put the boots back on since Taft hadn't managed to steal any shoes. They added a short black jacket, highlighted in silver flowers and topped it off with a black cap that matched the jacket to hide her face and coarse black hair.

Abena stuffed Rayne's uniform into the bags and walked to where Taft waited. She elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Ow!"

"That's for my dress."

A half hour later found them walking down the brightly lit sidewalk of a quiet street with Taft in the lead and Rayne clutching Abena's arm. Rayne was more relaxed now that they'd left the crowds behind, but still jumped at every sound and movement. The houses around them were an eclectic collection of styles, but they were all upper-class homes and well kept. The neighborhood was full of mostly retirees who had the money to pay someone to do the work for them.

Taft finally turned off the sidewalk and through a metal gate surrounded by a low stone wall topped with softly glowing yellow lights. The small front yard was meticulously groomed, as were the shrubs and small trees that edged the lit perimeter of the small single-story home. He knocked on the door while Abena and Rayne waited several steps back. Moments later, the door opened, and they were greeted by an Asian woman in her late sixties.

He smiled and introduced himself.

"Mrs. Yoshimura? I'm John. I spoke with you about the rental for the week."

She smiled in return.

"Yes, Mr. Smith. Please come in. Are these the friends you spoke of?" She looked them over briefly, her eyes resting on Rayne, who held Abena's arm tightly with her eyes closed while she breathed in and out in long, steady breaths.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Please come in. Take off your shoes, please." They sat in the small entryway and removed their boots. Abena helped Rayne while she continued her focused breathing.

"Is your friend okay?" Mrs. Yoshimura asked with concern.

"Panic attacks." Taft lied quickly. "She'll be alright. She just needs some place quiet."

Mrs. Yoshimura nodded thoughtfully and motioned the trio to follow her. The home was actually much bigger than the view from the street suggested. It was built on a single level with an open, center courtyard. The rooms, kitchen, dining and other living areas encircled the very traditional-looking Japanese garden glowing softly in the artificial lamplight. The grass and shrubs were as meticulously groomed as the front yard had been. Several stone pathways meandered through the garden and over a small, ornamental bridge to join at the center. There was a small waterfall that emptied into a pond containing brightly colored fish and humming bird like creatures circled the several feeders scattered throughout the courtyard. The center structure was the focal point of the garden. It was raised several feet off the ground and had a peaked, tile-covered roof. All four walls were open to the air with shutters pushed to the side that could be closed when not in use or when bad weather moved in. The floors were covered with the same straw mats as the rest of the home. "Tatami" Mrs. Yoshimura had called them. They were soft, yet firm, and felt wonderful to walk on in their stocking feet.

Abena looked in open-mouthed wonder as they walked through the garden paths.

"How the hell did you manage this?" she whispered.

"I like to call it creative acquisitioning. A little hacking here, a little misdirection there, and then the movement of funds to the account of a Mr. Smith..."

She held up her hand.

"Enough! I don't won't to know."

Mrs. Yoshimura led them to the far end where they found two small, but nicely furnished rooms. The doors, like most in the home, were sliders which opened directly onto a walkway which circled the garden. The floors were of the same grass mats and each room contained an assortment of simple furnishings.

"Will these be satisfactory, Mr. Smith?"

"They'll do nicely. Thank you so much."

"Let me know if there is anything you require." She bowed slightly and hurried off.

"Taft?"

"You should really call me John or you'll ruin my cover," he said as he looked inside their new room.

"Whatever," she said, looking around as if something was missing. "Where's the beds?"

"There's not supposed to be any," he grinned. "It's traditional Japanese living."

"They didn't use beds?"

"No. They used a mat thing called a crouton or something."

"Crouton? Isn't that what you put on a salad?"

"I said, 'or something' okay. It's something close to that anyway."

"Where they at?"

"In that closet in the corner. They're actually quite nice."

Abena walked to the closet and slid it open. She pulled two rolled pads from the closet and laid them out flat. They were several inches thick, soft and comfortable. A clean fabric protector covered each and a heavy down comforter was used as a blanket. Abena pushed Taft out onto the walkway, slid the door shut and locked it. She helped Rayne get ready for bed and then shed the horrid looking orange tent she wore and fell fast asleep.

***

Sometimes Rayne dreamed of battle. Sometimes, it was falling from the sky in her ship as it separated into burning pieces. Other times, it was watching the worst moments of her life over and over again. Tonight, it was the latter and she was forced to relive the moments of her mother and father's death. She'd seen these moments so many times, she ceased to cry out in her sleep, but the tears still came and she sobbed into her soft pillow to cover the noise. Even with her eyes open, the nightmares still flashed before her eyes. She was awake, wasn't she? So why wouldn't it stop? Rayne tried to rock herself back and forth and concentrated on breathing slow and even, but the images flowed through her head like the ocean tides. It came strong and loud one moment as it threatened to scatter her sanity to the wind. The next, it was a whisper that was barely heard but no less disturbing.

Rayne slipped from her covers and stood. She pulled her dress on and stepped quietly into the night air hoping it would clear her head. Insects buzzed quietly from the darkness as she sat and dangled her legs from the walk way and brushed her toes on a small section of neatly groomed rocks. The garden lights had been mostly extinguished, but Athena's bright moons had both risen and cast a soft silver light to see by. The nightmare images continued to rise and fall through her mind and she tried to calm her breathing amidst the tears and sobs that threatened to overtake her.

She rocked herself forward and back, taking deep breaths of the cool night air until her brain warned of movement from the corner of the compound. The predator in her clawed its way to the front. Rayne pulled her legs under her and tracked the figure through the moonlit paths. It was a man. Only one, thin and bent with age. His bald head reflected the moons' light as he shuffled slowly down the garden's path. Rayne tracked his progress across several different spectrums and kept monitoring the surroundings for ambush. Her nightmare was nearly forgotten, but still pushed insistently at the back of her mind. The man reached the center structure and slowly, painfully climbed the few steps to reach the open floor. Rayne pinged her surroundings. She tracked several night birds, but nothing else moved except for Taft who rolled over restlessly on the floor of his room.

The man sat, crossed his legs and then rested his hands quietly in his lap. He made no further movement as she watched intently for the next twenty minutes. Her enhanced hearing could only hear the rhythmic in and out of his breathing.

Rayne brushed the tears from her eyes and sniffed quietly as she tried to figure out what the old man was doing. His head turned minutely toward her and she stilled. He turned further and met her gaze for several long minutes, then took several moments to stand painfully to his feet. He walked carefully down the steps toward Rayne in an aged, bent-over shuffle. Rayne tensed, took a step back and looked to her left and then right. The old man continued forward, oblivious to the danger as she tensed for a strike. She fought the urge, closed her eyes and took two deep, shuddering breaths before opening them again. The old man stood, looking up at her with a smile on his face. He spoke in a language she did not recognize and waved her forward. Rayne wasn't sure what to do, her mind in complete chaos. Her nightmare still hammered at the back of her head, the T80 side of her brain demanded attack, while the human side screamed everything was fine and to let the old man alone. He looked at her, repeating his request again, motioning her to come. Rayne took a hesitant step down and the old man nodded his encouragement. She took the other two steps cautiously and stood before him at a range that was way too close for her comfort. The man shuffled forward and she tensed. He reached out, grabbed her forearm with his old withered hands and walked her forward toward the garden structure. He spoke quietly in the strange language as they walked, and it was somehow soothing and she felt herself relax by an order of magnitude.

As they reached the steps, Rayne helped the old man as he climbed slowly up. He then guided her to the center of the room and motioned for her to sit. Rayne sat with her arms hugging her knees to her chest. The old man took his position as before her, legs crossed, with his hands resting lightly in his lap. He spoke to her and then motioned that she should copy his position. Rayne crossed her legs and rested her hands in her lap. He nodded and then moved slowly forward and repositioned her hands so that one rested in the palm of the other. He then motioned with his hands that she should touch her thumbs together and nodded with pleasure as she did so. He returned slowly to his seat and faced her. He said several more things which she couldn't understand until finally he spoke two words in heavily accented English. "Focus" and "Breathe."

Rayne closed her eyes and did as the old man asked. She breathed in slowly through her nose as Lena had taught her and then let it out slowly. After several minutes of breathing, the T80 side of her brain slowly backed away, but the nightmares pushed their way to the front. Rayne found tears streaming down her face and sorrow turning her smooth, calming breaths into shuddering gasps that threatened to overwhelm her. The old man spoke quietly and soothingly to her as though to a child or an injured bird. She took a deep breath, squeezed the images from her head, and then let her breath out in a slow stutter. She repeated the breath several more times as the old man spoke until she finally regained a slow, smooth rhythm. Her tears still flowed freely, but the grief wasn't quite so overwhelming.

Rayne continued sitting quietly until her legs went numb and her nightmares finally receded. She blinked her eyes open to find the old man still sitting before her, deep in his own meditation. She rose quietly and walked the garden path back to her room, where she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

***

Abena woke the next morning and rolled from her bed to find herself already on the floor. It took a moment of confusion before she remembered where she was and why she was there. She'd slept in her tank top and uniform pants which were now wrinkled, and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, stumbled to the shower. She made a quick check to be sure Rayne was still in bed, then stripped and stumbled for the door. She passed the standard sink, mirror and toilet, but then stopped short, not sure what to do with what she saw before her.

There was a small square tub set on the floor, which was tiled and sunken down two steps. The tub measured about a meter square and had a water tap directly above it. A small bench sat next to the tub along with a clean hand towel, large bowl and bar of soap.

"What the hell?" She stalked back to the room, grabbing her ugly orange dress. She jerked it on, stepped out, and started pounding on Taft's door. "Taft. Wake up, you lazy ass." She kept knocking and when no one answered, she tried the door and found it open. She stuck her head inside, but Taft wasn't there. She heard her name called from across the compound and saw Taft sitting cross-legged at a low table, apparently having breakfast. He waved as she stalked barefoot through the garden in his direction. As she got closer, she saw that he was having breakfast with a very old, very wrinkled, Asian man.

She stopped and stood before them with her hands on her hips and the sun at her back.

"Taft."

"Hey, Abena," he said, smiling widely. "Don't you look beautiful this morning? The sun really compliments your figure."

"Shut up, Taft. What the hell kind of place is this anyway? There's no shower or anything."

The Asian man was looking at her with a large smile on his face. He bowed and kept watching her intently.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't get time to explain last night. Do you want to sit down?" He indicated an empty space across from him where a decorative cushion sat on the ground.

"No, Taft. I want a bath or a shower or whatever this place has."

"Okay, but the breakfast is really good."

She didn't recognize half of what was on the table and decided she could wait for that little adventure when she'd cleaned up.

"Maybe when I'm done. Now please explain."

"This place is old school, Abena. Everything about it, up to a point. The bathrooms, too. You've got your choice. There are the communal bathing facilities over there in the corner. They're not coed but everyone washes in the same big pool."

"I don't think so."

"I thought not. That's why they put the old school tub in the bathroom for those who are a little shy about their bodies."

"I'm not shy about my body..."

"Obviously." He exchanged looks with the old man, who nodded and smiled at her as he continued to eat.

"What?"

"Never mind," he continued quickly. "It takes a little getting used to. Anyway, what you need to do is fill the tub up with water and press the button next to the faucet that says heat. When you push that, it heats the water to a nice toasty temperature."

"Sounds an awful like I'm being cooked for dinner," she observed a she crossed her arms.

"Doesn't it, though?" he agreed, cracking an egg onto his bowl of rice. "Anyway, you're supposed to wash off before you get it..."

"Before?"

"Yes."

"That's weird."

"Not if you're sharing the water." He took a sip from a small porcelain cup.

"True."

"So, scoop the water out with the bowl to get yourself all wet, clean up and then if you like, have a nice long soak in the tub."

"Got it." She turned and walked away and called over her shoulder. "Save me some breakfast."

"Will do. Nice seeing you."

"Shut up, Taft." She walked to her room and entered quietly to find that Rayne was still asleep. She stepped past and then saw herself in the full-length mirror that hung on the wall. "Bastards." She cursed softly. The morning sun silhouetted her naked form through the dress's thin material. She snorted. "Hope the old man has a heart attack."

Abena enjoyed the long, hot soaking but longed to stretch her legs, which the small tub wouldn't allow. But the water was nice and she sat back and watched the steam rise from the surface of the water. She closed her eyes and relaxed until she heard movement from the next room.

"Rayne?" Abena waited for a response and several moments later Rayne stepped into the bathroom and looked around curiously. She appeared to be having the same thoughts about the tub Abena had upon first seeing it. "I know, weird, huh? Grab me the towel and I'll explain."

Rayne handed her the towel and Abena repeated the instructions given by Taft. Rayne nodded her understanding and Abena waited in the main room for her to finish while looking through the remaining bags Taft had given them. She hoped for clothes that didn't reveal so much of her form and found a pair of dark pants that fit reasonably well and a nice shirt that, while a touch too tight, looked good with the pants.

"Where were these last night?" she mumbled to herself and considered, not for the first time, what manner of death Taft should suffer.

By the time she'd dressed, Rayne had finished cleaning up and walked cautiously into the room. Abena noted she looked more rested than usual. Everyone in the squad had gotten into the habit of wearing ear plugs while sleeping, but it didn't block out all of the nightly terrors the girl suffered, and she nearly always awoke with a hoarse voice and red, puffy eyes. Today, her eyes were clear and alert. Now that she thought about it, Abena hadn't used her ear plugs last night and hadn't heard Rayne at all.

She shrugged it off and waited quietly as Rayne dressed, choosing the same white sun dress as the day before, but skipping the hat and jacket. Her hair was a tangled mess on top of her head and Abena knew from experience that there was nothing to be done about it.

"Hungry?" she asked.

Rayne nodded.

"Let's hope Taft left us something."

They sat at the table, where Taft was still picking through the remains of his breakfast and sipping tea. They both looked skeptically at the meal before them, but tried a little of everything as they clumsily put it into their mouths with the unfamiliar chop sticks. Some of it they liked and some made them wonder if it was really ever meant to be eaten or to be used only as a garnish to make the food look pretty. Taft looked on, amused and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

The old man still sat at the table, quietly sipping his tea as he watched the group eat. His eyes kept coming back to Rayne, noting her constant searching and the occasional jerk as she moved in response to an unfamiliar sound. After it appeared they'd finished their breakfast, he rose slowly from his position and shuffled toward her.

Taft was instantly on his feet.

"Whoa. Mr. Yoshimura, that's not a good..." The words died in his mouth and he sat back down, looking on in astonishment as Rayne let the old man take her arm and guide her to the garden structure. "What the hell just happened?"

"I've no idea," Abena replied.

***

Rayne sat cross legged on the ground with her hand resting in the palm of the other as she had the night before. The old man spoke to her softly and motioned for her to close her eyes. She did so and concentrated on her breathing again. The machine in her head, while not making demands for fight or flight, rippled across the surface of her mind. It tracked everything; it heard everything and formed plans and contingencies. An air car passed slowly in the street. There were ten birds flitting through the compound and she could give the exact position of each. Abena and Taft were arguing over an orange dress and its transparent qualities and she could hear the soft step of Mrs. Yoshimura as she walked the front sidewalk to the street. Rayne had four different escape routes pre-planned and had marked the most likely points of attack, the best angles, and the best cover. The data streams flowed through her mind and she wasn't sure whether she was supposed to embrace it, ignore it, or control it.

Rayne knew how to ignore the data streams. That was easy. She could turn those on and off any time she chose. But there was something more than telling the data streams in her head to shut up. What she struggled with was the rage and sorrow, mixed with the programmed impulse to strike out at anything she perceived as a threat. For three years, that instinct had included just about everything in her environment. Her human brain was confused and unable to act as the compass for the killing machine that shared the same space. She'd managed to fight it successfully for the most part, but it only took the right spark to send her off on a killing rampage. Up until now, the Tau Ceti had been her only victims, but she didn't want the added misery and guilt of ending an innocent human life.

What she needed, Rayne decided, was control. She continued to concentrate on her breathing as she thought through what might help her achieve what she sought. There seemed to be two triggers most likely to launch her programmed impulses to attack: anger and sorrow. They were the focus that had allowed her to control the T80 and had dominated the whole of her life for three years. She was no longer stuck inside the machine, but the machine was still inside of her and it sought what was familiar. It fed off the negative energy her human brain produced and was sharing an equally dominant role in the decision-making process. The recurring nightmares and flashbacks that fragmented her reality were making that decision process nearly impossible. She needed to put her own brain into the driver's seat and kick the machine to the back.

Rayne wasn't entirely sure how to go about taking conscious control, but looked back on the weeks she had spent with Lena and the other marines for answers. Was she better or worse than she'd been when first released from the suit? Rayne slowed her breathing further as she contemplated the answer to the question. Definitely better, but how had she achieved it? She searched through her memories, sorting and discarding the irrelevant. Her mind emptied for several minutes and she felt as if she were floating above the ground, until a word slowly took shape in her head.

Practice, she thought. That's where the little control she possessed came from. It came from pushing the boundaries of her control. By standing on the abyss and staring down into insanity. It came by confronting her fear and anger in stages until she could take a little bit more. It had been Lena who'd done it. She'd pulled Rayne to the practice floor and made her fight, forcing her to the edge of her control and then telling her to step back under her own power. Each time she did it, she'd become stronger.

Rayne slowed her breathing further as well as the beat of her heart to compensate for the reduced oxygen being pulled from her lungs. Lena was not here to help her and she didn't think Abena was capable of doing what needed done. She was nice, but Rayne could smell her fear. There was no trust as there had been with Lena and she'd need that if she was to use the hand-to-hand combat to help her gain more control. What if she pushed too hard? The squad wasn't here to clear the room and wrestle her down if she lost it. She needed a better option.

Rayne was deep in concentration now and barely breathing. She drifted for what seemed like an eternity before coming back to herself, realizing she didn't even have to leave her own head to do what she wanted. She could do what needed done right here, in the darkness of her own mind.

Rayne tracked several birds as they hurtled and spun through the garden structure where she and the old man sat facing each other like stone statues. They hovered for several seconds, the hum of their wings buzzing in her ears, before they darted out and over the garden wall. Rayne considered how she would approach her practice from every angle. She had to do it safely. There couldn't be any mistakes. She'd start slow. Not too far at first, but increase the difficulty after each push. She'd use memories and scenarios made up in her head to push her to the edge. She'd look in the face of insanity, spit in its eye, and then turn her back and walk away.

But not now, because her butt and legs were so numb she could barely feel them and the rest of her body had finally realized she was barely breathing and had started clamoring for air. Rayne took a deep, slow breath and opened her eyes. The old man sat before her smiling. He reached over and patted her on the knee and said something she didn't understand. She smiled in return, her first in a very long time.

***

Dr. Gault walked purposefully through the halls of Athena Fleet Command. She was a frequent visitor and nodded greetings to many of the people she passed. She tried to maintain her pleasant politician face, but was having trouble keeping it pasted on. It had been two days and still the retrieval team hadn't located her test subject. Dr. Gault did not like waiting. She'd just come from Admiral Rick's office and he had assured her the team that had been sent was the best in the business. She was told these things took time and to let the professionals do their job. She'd been forced to endure his condescending tones with a smile on her face while she secretly imagined throwing a chair at his head.

She passed through a security check point and into another part of the huge, sprawling complex that made up Fleet Command. She needed a cup of something hot and steaming to calm her smoldering anger before she started throwing things at random people.

Two days! How long could it take to find one girl?

In the meantime, her team sat mostly idle in the lab going over Ms. Miller's scans and notes for the hundredth time. Maybe she should have thrown something at the general. It might have gotten him to get off that fat behind of his and get something done. She took a moment to imagine a chair crashing over his head and then dispelled the thought as she walked into one of the building's many small cafés. She'd invested too much time and energy into the man to burn that bridge. She'd spent years cashing in favors to get him to where she needed him, and to throw it away over a two-day delay would have been a waste of a resource. He wasn't the only chess piece on the board, though. Maybe she could light a fire under him by making another call and letting slip some information to someone a little higher up the food chain. She smiled as she contemplated the possibilities and wondered if it would be worth it or if she should just wait things out.

Dr. Gault stepped to the counter and ordered a hot chocolate. She looked wistfully at the coffee and took a deep breath of its wonderful aroma. She loved the smell, but the caffeine left her amped up with the shakes. That was the last thing she needed right now. The chocolate was just as good and this particular café made the best. She took the small cup from the clerk and the payment was automatically debited from her ID chip. She took a sip and closed her eyes. Just the way she liked it, nice and dark. Some places used milk chocolate or put cream on the top, which she thought spoiled the taste. The stuff they made here was just perfect and she would walk clear across the building to get it.

She took a seat next to the window overlooking the bustling streets outside. She was a good twenty stories up and had a magnificent view of the city's horizon. There wasn't much pollution to speak of. Modern technology had saved human populations from that particular nuisance, but there were still times when fog, storms and local geologic activity cluttered the air. She took a sip of her chocolate and looked back toward the interior of the building and the people passing through the hallway. The café was directly adjacent to the Judge Advocate General's offices and she watched as her ex walked out its doors. She smirked. Maybe the bug she'd put in the ear of Admiral Ricks about his less than helpful attitude had gotten him into some hot water. She'd suggested he'd deliberately aided in the girl's escape, but the general pointed out that everything Cpt. Gault had done had been according to procedure, and until they had more information, there wasn't a lot he could do. He did, however, promise to put her ex under a microscope.

Dr. Gault watched as Cpt. Gault stood for a moment outside the doors as if deliberating which way to go. He straightened his already neat uniform and took a deep breath. As he spotted the café, he walked in that direction. Dr. Gault didn't particularly want to talk to her ex, but she wasn't going to avoid him either. She waited at her table while he ordered with his back to her, wondering if he would even notice she was there. She took the opportunity to admire the view. He was still fit and made the uniform look good. It was too bad things hadn't worked out, she thought. When things had been good, they'd been good. She sipped her hot chocolate and rested her chin on her hand as she took a moment to daydream. He was good looking, yes, but rules and procedure were the only other things he had. She needed someone who could match wits and be her equal and Jason just wasn't that guy.

He turned with a tray of food and looked for a seat, finding her place next to the window. He grimaced, but walked over and sat down without saying a word and began eating. She smirked. He was obviously pouting and wasn't talking to her. Whoever he'd talked to in the Judge Advocate's Office must have really worked him over. It almost made up for having to wait two days for her test subject.

"Have a seat, Jason," she said sarcastically.

He didn't reply, but kept eating as if he hadn't heard.

"How's everyone at the Judge Advocate's Office?"

He took a sip from his drink, but didn't reply.

"Oh, come on, Jason. Don't be like that," she smiled sweetly. "It was just a little payback for hi-jacking my test subject."

He bit into one of the local vegetables and then spit it out, moving it to the side of his plate and kept eating like she wasn't there.

"They're going to find her anyway." She tried to catch his eye, but he studiously ignored her. "You know that, right?"

Still nothing.

Dr. Gault was getting angry. Wasn't this just like him to come over here, sit down and then not discuss the problem at hand.

"Quit being a poor sport. I won. Just like I always do and just like I always will. You should be used to it by now."

He said nothing as he started on the dessert.

"She's mine, Jason. She's my test subject and you shouldn't have gone messing around where you don't belong."

He didn't reply and her blood started to boil.

"I'll do whatever I want with her," she said viciously, trying to get a rise out of him. "I'll scan her, poke her, her prod her and put her in a cage, and when I'm satisfied I've gotten everything I can from the outside, I'll dissect her into little bits and analyze those too. There's not a damn thing you can do to stop me." She looked for the reaction she was certain would come, but he just kept chewing his food idly as if he were eating alone.

"You have nothing here, Jason. You hear me? Answer me?" She pounded her fist on the table, which rattled his tray and utensils.

He grabbed his glass slowly, took a long drink, set it down and continued with his dessert.

Dr. Gault was so furious now, she couldn't speak anymore and was fighting the urge to hurl her cup at him. Had they been in the privacy of their own home or her office, she wouldn't have hesitated, but doing so in Athena's Fleet Command would get her visitor pass revoked. At least temporarily until she made calls to important people to get it back. Her ex wasn't worth the trouble.

She stood up and struggled momentarily for words and then hurled the only insult she was capable of at that moment.

"I hate you." She cursed him as she stalked away and thought of half a dozen more colorful responses.

Cpt. Gault just smiled, wiped his mouth with his napkin and enjoyed the view overlooking the city as he finished his dessert.

***

The other team had arrived early the next morning. They'd continued the search for Cpl. Ramirez for several hours, but Lex had finally decided it was a waste of resources to continue until they had a more definite direction to focus their attention. He had split the teams into three groups. The first was to continue the search up and down the coast, in case the corporal's body washed up on the shore somewhere. The second group would be canvassing the shops near the beach, looking for anyone who remembered her. He'd also ordered his tech team to temporarily suspend their tracking work via the video feeds and start working on the corporal's data streams. They'd run into some corruption in the station's video database anyway and they could come back to it later if necessary. The last team had been assigned to take LCpl. Davis into custody, toss the rooms and start an interrogation.

It was half way through the day and so far they hadn't found anything useful. A search of both marines' rooms had produced nothing but a pile of dirty laundry and empty beer bottles. Davis wasn't saying much they hadn't already heard, but had been completely cooperative. He'd expected the marine to fight and had sent four of his men just in case, but the marine had simply nodded and got into the car without complaint. Lex wasn't sure at this point whether Davis was involved or not, but intended to hold him a while longer just in case.

For now, his team was doing the leg work on the information they'd pulled from the two corporal's data streams. They'd made several purchases at the local shops, but they didn't have the information on exactly what was purchased. Most of Davis' purchases had been at the local food market and fishing shop, while Ramirez had gone to two different surf shops.

They pulled to the curb in front of a small building with a brightly hand-painted sign that said Bob's Surf and Stuff. Lex didn't get out of the car as two of his men, still dressed in their tan pants, black shirts and sunglasses, got out and entered the store. He scanned Ramirez' training file trying to get a better sense of the marine. He saw some early disciplinary problems, but an exemplary service record after that. She had high physical fitness scores, fighting assessments, and good psychological evaluations. All of these had been good enough to have her admitted to the T80 program. She'd been through a few minor skirmishes and had a slightly better than average kill count considering her years of service. He read through the most current fitness reviews and saw nothing that caught his interest. He looked up, sifting through the data in his mind. His eyes wandered to the side of the building where a dozen metal cylinders were arranged neatly in racks next to several multicolored wetsuits.

His two men pushed through the front door of the business and returned to the car. Lex opened the window.

"Let me guess. She rented scuba gear." They didn't look surprised that he'd figured it out before they had. He was often a step ahead of everyone else and they were used to it.

"Purchased, actually."

"Because she wasn't planning on bringing it back. How many sets?"

"Two, with extra tanks."

"Get in and let's pull up the navigation chart for this area. I want to see where the coastal currents go." He waited as they got inside and pulled the charts.

"There is a current running right offshore. Depending on how long she stayed in, it would take her past this point here." His number two man pushed the image to his retinal imager and highlighted the current flow and projected point of land fall. "If she stayed in any longer, she'd be shark bait. The way the current goes, she wouldn't hit land until she hit the other side of the ocean."

"How long would it take her to reach that point?"

"I'd guess about four hours. That's a long time to be in the water, but definitely do-able considering the amount of air she has."

Lex tapped his dot phone.

"Bravo team. What's your position?"

"We're twenty miles north searching the coast line," came the reply.

"I'm pushing some new coordinates to you. Meet us there."

"Sure thing, Lex."

He cut the connection.

"Let's go get'em, guys." The car lifted off the ground and they turned south at an increasingly fast pace.

***

Lena pulled the large sunhat off her face with her free right hand as she watched the sleek black air car disappear into the distance. Her left was wrapped heavily in a towel and concealed behind her reclining chair in large bucket of water. She was sure her arm was going to turn into a prune and she was dying to take it off, but it was the only thing blocking the signal to the ID chip in her arm. For now, anyway, it had to stay where it was. She took a sip of her cold drink and sat back to finish the work on her tan.

***

Mike stepped from their make-shift shelter and stretched in the cool morning air. The sun hadn't made it above the towering peaks that surrounded them, but the wildlife was signaling it was time to wake up. It was impossible to get any kind of good sleep the way the birds and other small animals were chattering back and forth at each other. He walked over to their cold fire pit and looked to see if there were any embers left that could be nursed into flame. He found a small section of the log they'd tossed on the fire before going to bed that he thought could be brought to life, and set about gathering sticks and other small pieces of wood to use as fuel. After ten minutes and only one lung full of smoke he managed a respectable fire.

Jackson crawled out from the shelter and stumbled to a seat on a fallen log. He was not a morning person and it usually took a few hours or a good cup of coffee to get him going. He rubbed his face vigorously, yawned, and shook his head as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. Mike tossed him a food bar for his breakfast. Although not particularly appetizing, they were easy to eat and would fill their stomachs until they could catch something on their own.

"So what do you think, shall we try our hand at setting some snares this morning?" They'd seen some rabbit-looking creatures darting through the bushes as they had hiked in. Unlike those he was familiar with, these didn't have ears but a small set of horns and an extra set of legs. He thumbed through the wildlife identification guide he purchased before their trip. "Says here they can be pretty tasty, even if the meat is a little stringy."

Jackson yawned again.

"Sounds good to me, man."

"I figure we could set the snares and then go explore. I wouldn't mind seeing the view from that peak over to the east."

Jackson squinted through the trees.

"You mean that one? Damn, Mike. That looks like one hell of a climb."

"It'll wake you up and build your appetite." Mike dug through his pack for the line he needed for the snares. "Come on. It'll be fun."

"Yeah. Give me a sec." He stood groggily, still trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. "Let me try and splash some of that cold water on my face."

"Make sure you use the pole, otherwise you won't have a face afterwards." Their experience catching fish from the day previous had warned them that standing too close to the water was not a good idea. The native fish were aggressive and would actually jump from the water to take a bite out of unsuspecting mammals that got too close to the water. Fortunately, they only lived on the larger rivers and streams where there was faster moving water.

"I remember." He stumbled toward the stream.

Mike set out the items of food and water he would need for the day. He grabbed a smaller day pack and began putting them inside. Having done that, he pulled the topographical map for the area and planned their route to their intended destination. Jackson was right; it would be one hell of a hike. It was only five miles, but the terrain was steep and rocky. It would probably take them most of the day.

"Sergeant Weber," a deep voice said, addressing him from several yards back.

Mike turned, watching as the remaining members of the team tracking them melted from the trees.

"Nice stalk, guys. Didn't even hear you coming."

There were four of them. They were fit and had the hard stares of professional men who meant business. While Mike and Jackson were outfitted for a vacation in the woods, wearing and using gear made for civilians, the men before him were decked out in the latest military spec op's fashions. They wore camouflaged uniforms and web gear and had even gone so far as to apply grease paint to their exposed faces and hands. They all carried a basic combat load and the weapons they wore were silenced. One of them even had a sniper rifle slung across his back. Mike was quietly pleased he and Jackson warranted such a response. It was a nice boost to his ego.

The one who'd done the speaking motioned to two of the others.

"Go collect Cpl. Jackson." They moved off smoothly through the trees and toward the river.

Mike waited patiently with his hands in the open to make sure there were no unfortunate, 'misunderstandings.'

"I don't suppose you guys would be interested in a day hike." He was a little disappointed they'd be missing it, but that wasn't the intended purpose of the question. He was trying to get a feel for the person in front of him and was hoping to draw him out into conversation.

"No talking," came the curt response.

That answered that question, he thought to himself. All business. Mike waited several more minutes before he heard yelling from the direction of the river. He moved to go check, but silenced weapons came up and convinced him it wouldn't be a good idea. The sound of the river made it difficult to tell who exactly was yelling and why. Jackson knew there wasn't to be any fighting here. That wasn't their purpose and he just hoped that whatever was going on by the river didn't involve anyone getting hurt.

Several minutes later, loud voices and the sounds of several men moving through the forest reached their ears. Jackson and one of the tracking team burst through the woods carrying the other member of the team. Large amounts of blood soaked the downed man's right leg and a makeshift tourniquet was wrapped high on his leg. The other member of the tracking team held his arm tightly to his chest as a red stain spread from his arm and down the front of his uniform.

Mike ignored the weapons that had been trained on him and moved to help Jackson lower the injured man.

"What the hell happened?"

"They got too close to the water. I tried to warn them, but it was too late." Jackson ripped the uniform material up the leg where he could get a better view of the damage. There were several large chunks of flesh missing from the man's leg, some of which were still pouring out large amounts of blood. "This one took a bite and then fell partially in the water where they had a bit of a feeding frenzy and the other one lost a part of his arm trying to pull him out." Jackson used his shirt to temporarily staunch the flow of blood, while the retrieval team's leader looked to the other injured member for confirmation of Jackson's version of events.

"That's how it happened, sir. Damn things are vicious." The man was still holding his own arm, trying to stop the flow of blood. "He helped pull Nelson from the water and I got tagged in the process."

The team leader slung his weapon and dropped his pack. He motioned to the remaining, uninjured member of his team.

"Get Apshu taken care of while I start on Nelson." He knelt down and inspected the man's damaged leg.

"It got the femoral artery," said Jackson. As he continued to apply pressure to the wound, the man they called Nelson gritted his teeth in pain. "I got the tourniquet on, but it's still pumping some out."

The team leader nodded his agreement as he opened the med kit. He pulled a small tubular device from the kit, inserted a small canister of liquid and injected it through the artery in the man's neck.

"Something for the pain, Nelson."

Mike took a pair of forceps and flipped the power switch. When he found the femoral artery, he grasped it with the forceps, and activating the heating element in its pinchers to temporarily seal the wound. He nodded to Jackson to remove his hands, while the team's leader held the man down. Even with the pain killer, this would be a painful process. Mike dug through the wound, located the pulsing artery's jagged ends and clipped it with the forceps. They heated quickly and the smell of burning flesh reached their noses. The man cried out and struggled against the pain.

Mike worked for several more minutes closing off some of the larger bleeding veins and then turned to the team leader.

"Ready for the foam." Mike set the forceps aside and grabbed the container of medical foam. Once administered, it would form a sealed and sterilized layer to protect the wound until they could get the man to the right medical facilities.

"Time to call for evac," the team leader said as he monitored Mike's work.

Having finished, Mike looked up.

"You know that's not possible, right?"

The team leader smirked.

"Everything is possible when you have the kind of clearance we got."

Mike shook his head.

"You need to do your homework, my friend. This is more than just a restricted wilderness area. It's a dead zone. No communication in or out." The team leader's smirk melted from his face. Mike turned to Jackson, "Start rigging a stretcher while I collect our gear. We've got a long walk ahead of us."

***

Rayne woke from her nightmare. She preferred this one over some of the others. In this dream, she got to kill the things that killed her father and didn't have to suffer through the fear and loss of being the hapless victim. She could give herself over completely to the predator inside and thrill in the joy of the killing. The echo of battle still reverberated in her head and left her exhausted and she lay staring at the ceiling. Her heart still raced, yet she felt oddly calm and satisfied. Maybe she couldn't call it a nightmare anymore since she enjoyed it so much.

She looked over to see Abena still slept. She noticed the ear plugs she and the rest of the marines normally wore were absent. Either everyone had gotten used to the sound of her nightly screaming or she'd stopped. That was a relief. She felt bad about sharing her nightly terrors with the group and the haggard expressions the following day. Rayne felt more in control over herself than she had for some time and it was a good feeling. It had been four days since they'd arrived and she was falling into a comfortable routine. She'd wake early in the morning, meditate, clean-up and have breakfast, then meditate some more, continuing the process off and on throughout the day.

She pinged the house and found nothing was moving yet except for the few humming bird-like creatures racing through the garden. She walked quietly to the bathroom, filled the tub with water and turned the heater on. It would take about a half hour for it to heat up and while it did, she'd take the time to clear her head in the morning air. The sun had not yet risen and there was only a pink hint of its coming on the horizon. Rayne walked barefoot along the stone path and took her seat in the garden structure. She still felt calm and satisfied and enjoyed the feeling of it for a long while until she judged the water in the tub would have heated. She returned quietly to her room, washed and soaked in the hot water until the sun began to shine through the window and she heard movement from the next room. Rayne got out and grabbed a towel, meeting Abena as she stumbled sleepy-eyed into the bathroom.

"Morning," Abena mumbled as she passed; stripping her own clothes as she went and throwing them to the ground.

Rayne nodded and stepped past into the next room. She pulled a fresh change of clothes from the closet. Taft had done some additional 'acquisitioning' the day before at Abena's insistence and had come back with a selection of clothes that Abena had been much happier with. She pulled on the undergarments and then the loose-fitting cargo pants and tank top.

She stepped out the front door into the sunlight and scanned the courtyard to make sure no threats were present. She then walked to the dining area to have breakfast with Taft and Mr. Yoshimura. Unlike Abena, Taft was an early riser and was always way happier than he had any right to be. She still wasn't sure what to think about him. He was always nice and had never been threatening, but there was something she didn't quite trust. Maybe it was the unpredictability. She could never be sure from one moment to the next whether he was being serious or making a joke at someone else's expense.

"Good morning, Rayne." He smiled cheerfully and sipped his hot drink.

She nodded back in greeting and took her seat by Mr. Yoshimura. He nodded and greeted her in what she assumed was 'good morning' in Japanese. She nodded in reply but didn't say anything in return. She wasn't trying to be rude, she'd just become so accustomed to being alone that the concept of conversation was still foreign to her.

Breakfast that morning was some kind of porridge. She had no idea what it was but brought the spoon to her mouth experimentally. It tasted okay and she ate the rest slowly as she continued to scan the courtyard and surrounding properties for movement. She didn't care for the drink they served and had opted for a small glass of juice. Whatever it was, Mr. Yoshimura and Taft drank it every morning, but it tasted like dirty water and she refused to drink it.

Mr. Yoshimura, she had learned, was actually Mrs. Yoshimura's father. Now in his nineties, he had been retired for some twenty years and had given himself over to a life of quiet contemplation, meditation and a return to traditional living. He hadn't told Rayne this himself, but she'd gleaned it from conversations between Taft and Mrs. Yoshimura.

Abena, somewhat more refreshed than she'd been earlier, sat at the table with barely a nod or murmur of greeting and started eating. She wasn't terribly fond of the food, but dug in like the marine she was until she was full.

Taft didn't talk to her until she'd finally finished, knowing from experience that it was easier to talk to her when she'd eaten.

"How'd you sleep, sunshine?"

"Shut up, Taft."

Rayne didn't want to listen to their morning banter and moved off to the garden house to meditate with the Mr. Yoshimura.

"It's time for us to move."

"You think they'll have tracked us already? I thought you said we'd be safe for a week before we needed to move."

"I did, but I'm starting to get that feeling." He looked around, nervously rubbing his hands on his thighs.

"Feeling?" She grimaced at the taste of her hot drink; whatever it was.

"Like when I'm trying to ask a girl out and I know she's going to say 'no' before I even ask."

Abena smirked.

"You don't need a 'feeling' for that, Taft. You should just make that assumption from the start."

"You know what I mean. I just have this feeling they'll be on us faster than I thought. I bought us a little time messing up the video feeds on the station, but all's they gotta do is tap into the planet-side feeds and they'll have us."

"You think they'll be able to track us that quick?"

"It'll take them a while to get through the data, but yes, they can track us that quick if they put enough resources on it."

Abena looked at the remains of her breakfast.

"I could use a good burger."

CHAPTER 8

Lex terminated the call from the team leader assigned to track Weber and Jackson. He was disappointed that particular lead hadn't yielded results. The fact that members of the team had been injured annoyed him, but not necessarily because he was concerned about their well-being. They were an asset. And like any asset, it cost money to fix when broken, and couldn't be used until repaired.

Still, he had Weber and Jackson, so that was some consolation he supposed. So far, they had claimed not to have any information on the girl's whereabouts. Based on Lcpl. Ramirez' actions he somehow doubted that. While they could claim ignorance all they wanted, when they were finally subjected to what everyone affectionately referred to as 'The Box', they wouldn't have much of a choice.

You could make the argument that 'The Box' had its beginnings in the lie detector machines developed in the early 1900s on Earth. Quite a bit of time and energy had been devoted to lie detection technology which was widely used for several hundred years until science learned that the brain recorded and stored everything it saw. Those images could be retrieved like files off a database. The human capacity to rationalize just about any behavior or given answer had always been a limiting factor in the lie detector's accuracy, but it was hard to dispute the data retrieved from your own brain and you needed no special expertise to interpret the results. 'The Box' tapped the brain via the optic nerve and its software pulled the images in chronological order from any particular date specified. If you were accused of a particular crime on a certain date, 'The Box' would pull it up and show everything you saw on that date. It had a variety of civilian and military applications, but was a fairly painful process not without its limitations and restrictions. No audio came with the video, and the video that came back was nowhere near the original quality. However, for his particular purposes, it should prove sufficient to track who the girl had gone with, if anyone.

As far as restrictions, the use of 'The Box' was limited to civilian courts or the JAG office for military inquiries, and not without a court order. Lex had been given a fair amount of lee-way regarding his search, but use of 'The Box' without sufficient justification would lose him contracts and money. Its use was an extremely sensitive issue in the civilian world, and only a little less so in the military. People never changed. They all felt it their given right to lie to authority without worrying the truth could be sucked from their heads.

So far; however, 'The Box' had not proven its usefulness. Cpl. Davis had yielded nothing more than what they'd gotten from traditional means. From all available data, he really did not appear to have any information about the girl. Furthermore, the data they obtained showed quite clearly that the girl had not been with them when they'd left the station. Lex had been extremely annoyed and felt strongly he'd been played. They'd spent several days looking for Lcpl. Ramirez and the girl along the coast without success. Finally, frustrated with the lack of results, he'd used 'The Box' on Davis to make sure he was barking up the right tree and not wasting his time. Realizing the girl wasn't with them, he'd pulled most of his resources from her search. He reassigned what was left of the injured team that had brought in Weber and Jackson to continue surveillance on Davis, who'd been released in the hopes Ramirez would show back up. He'd told them to blend in this time, so they could enjoy the beach, girls, and cold drinks while they kept one eye out. From their report, it sounded like they deserved the light assignment. The hike out of the wilderness area with two injured men and a makeshift litter had to have been tough. He wasn't sure what to make of Weber and Jackson's actions, though. If they were involved with this, why would they help? His team leader's reports had said they'd both been instrumental in saving the one team member's life and then helping them all to safety. Why hadn't they run when they had the chance? Something wasn't right here. Maybe they really weren't involved and the information he'd been given had been bad. It wouldn't be the first time.

He turned his chair to face the window and contemplated the best course of action as he gazed over the city in the dying light. He'd tracked most of the marines with the exception of the last two, and his techs were back to sifting through the mountain of data from the planet-side shuttle stations. He had a team on their way to make contact now, but he seriously doubted they would find anything. The only reason he was doing it was so that he could say that he'd left no stone unturned. They'd scanned for the girl's face for over a week on the video feeds, but she wasn't popping up anywhere. That wasn't particularly surprising on a planet boasting this many people, but it was frustrating, nonetheless.

A low tone sounded in his ear, signaling an incoming call. His retinal imager showed it was from his tech lab. Maybe they had some good news. He tapped his dot phone.

"This is Lex. What do you have?"

"We think we might have the girl."

He sat up in his chair.

"Where?"

"Looks like she hit planet-side with the last two marines..." There was a pause, "Nairobi Abena and John Taft."

"What city?"

"Right here. Capital City."

He cursed. They'd been right under his nose.

"Push what you have to me." He retrieved the file from his dot phone, but instead of looking at it on his retinal viewer, pushed it to his desk screen. It had better resolution and the ability to zoom and manipulate images the retinal viewer just didn't have. He pulled up the image and expanded it to fill the screen. It was a partial shot, but enough for the software to confirm identity to ninety percent on the girl. The one marine, probably Taft, had his head turned from the camera, but the other was obviously Abena.

"Is this the best shot you have?"

"Yeah, Lex. With the crowds, camera angles and lighting, that's the best one."

This was a huge break for him. He'd been catching quite a bit of heat from his employer about the delay in retrieval and it would be nice to end the daily phone calls.

"Move your focus to support Bravo Team. Make sure you get all the feeds for the surrounding area. I don't want to lose her."

"We're on it."

Lex terminated the call and moved to the door. This was a very lucrative contract and he didn't want anything to go wrong. Bravo team should be enough to get the job done, but he hadn't been successful in the business by leaving things to chance. He tapped his dot phone, calling his Alpha Team leader.

"Grab your gear and meet me at the car. We got a line on the girl." He terminated the call without waiting for a response. He moved quickly down the hall toward the lifts, heading to the roof and its top-side parking lot. His team was waiting when he arrived and he stepped quickly into the waiting air car.

"Tech give you the location?"

"Got it. Should be there in fifteen." The car lifted and smoothly entered the traffic lanes.

Lex tapped his dot phone and spoke with Bravo Team's leader.

"Are you there?"

"Yes. Do you want us to hold or make contact?"

"Hold. I'm en route to you now. Let's link comms. I want to hear real-time of any changes." He left the call open and signaled the rest of the team to link in. He pulled up the aerial photos and scanned through them. It looked like a residential suburb on the edge of the city. If they were trying to hide, they weren't working very hard at it.

***

Taft, Abena and Rayne did not say goodbye. They packed what little possessions they had and walked out the front door, saying they were headed toward the festival and would return later. Mrs. Yoshimura was clearing the morning's dishes, but Mr. Yoshimura met them at the door. He shuffled forward with a small package in his arms. He spoke something in Japanese and handed the package to Rayne. Mrs. Yoshimura stopped what she was doing and walked over to translate.

"He said it is a gift for you. For the festival."

"Thank you," Rayne said quietly with a small smile. He bobbed up and down several times and then shuffled away toward the garden.

They walked down the street toward the nearest station that would take them toward the festival. The day was warm and the sun shone brightly overhead. Taft appeared to be deep in thought as they walked, on the verge of saying something several times before finally coming out with it.

"I think we need to tell her."

"You think that's wise?" Abena replied, the concern plain on her face. She looked to Rayne to see if she was paying attention to their conversation. Unlike before, Rayne wasn't clinging to her arm in near panic, but her head moved constantly as she searched their surroundings. She didn't appear to be listening.

"I don't know about being wise, but if we get separated by accident or necessity..." He let the sentence trail off and let Abena figure the rest out for herself.

"And you think telling her now is going to make a difference?"

"At least she'll know to run before they scoop her up."

"How is she going to survive, Taft? As far as I know, she has no experience navigating this or any other city, and she doesn't have a chip for credit. She'd starve in a week."

He slung his pack around and reached inside.

"Actually, I have a plan for that."

"What exactly?" She looked over as he rummaged through the pack. Taft pulled out a small metallic bracelet. "You're going to give her a piece of jewelry?"

He turned it over in his hand.

"Looks like it, but no. It's imbedded with a credit chip."

"And you have one of those why?"

Taft smiled. "You just never know when you'll need a spare or don't want someone peeking into what you've been buying."

Abena was incredulous. The kind of tech he held in his hand was strictly black market.

"How did you ever make it into the military?"

"I know, right?" He chuckled. "It's got enough credit to last several months depending on how much she spends...and it's not traceable.

Abena looked skeptical.

He continued quickly, to reinforce his point. Abena was senior and would have the final say.

"It would just be a back-up. You know, just in case. I figured we'd give her a location to meet up at if we get separated and she could use this until then."

"It had better be somewhere easy, or she'll never find it."

Taft smiled and turned to Rayne to tell her what was going on and give her the bracelet. He stopped short, thought better of what he was about to do and then handed it to Abena.

"Maybe you'd better do it."

***

"They're on the move." Bravo team broken from the designated traffic lanes to turn in slow orbit over the house where the three had been staying. They were careful not to get too close and give away their position. If the three they were tracking looked their way, all they would see would be one speck among thousands in the sky.

"On foot?" asked Lex.

"Affirmative."

"Hold your position for now. We're a couple of minutes out." Tech was on the same link as the rest of them and he addressed them now. "Tech, what's the closest transportation hub?"

It was a moment before they replied.

"Two streets up. I'll mark it for you."

A yellow light flashed on his retinal viewer and he automatically pushed it to the air car's console. He didn't want the retinal viewer interfering with his sight as they neared the takedown.

He spoke to the driver.

"Break lanes and get us to the station before them." The air car suddenly dropped and turned out from the rest of the traffic as it sped toward the station. The building and people grew larger through the window as they descended, until they finally reached street level. They double parked at the curb and his team deployed. Two went to the station's entrance to prevent their targets from entering, while the other two moved to flanking positions out of sight. Lex leaned against the car and waited.

This was not a particularly busy station, but they garnered quite a few panicked stares at the uniforms and weapons being carried by his team. They also carried non-lethal rifles in case their quarry decided to run. While similar in appearance to their lethal counterparts they shot only small, non-lethal charged projectiles that would temporarily immobilize the target. If the target was standing, they would simply fall into a pile on the ground. If they happened to be running, there was nothing that would prevent the road rash destined for their face. Care had to be taken, however, not to deploy the device anywhere close to large drops or locations where the fall could put the target in harm's way. His contract directed that the subject was to be taken alive and their fee would be significantly reduced otherwise.

"Bravo team. Take it down to street level and form up on their rear." Lex didn't want his targets escaping back the way they'd come and was feeling comfortable he'd left them nowhere to go. He had all his pieces in place and there was no reason this shouldn't go down smoothly. The trio walked toward him and he could see their faces as they approached. They appeared completely unaware of what was coming their way.

"Everyone ready. I'm making contact." He saw the pursuit team park and step from their vehicle. The men on the flanks shifted and adjusted their grips. Lex stepped forward.

***

Rayne was in turmoil. Abena had asked her to hold out her wrist, then slipped the metal bracelet on. Then she'd dropped the bomb. Someone was after her? Here? Why? She had so many questions, but the pressing need to find safety and avoid pursuit took over. Abena looked extremely worried and hurriedly tried to explain what she'd known. Rayne was different somehow. People wanted to study her. They wanted to take her to a lab and pick her apart. The captain was trying to stop them, but they needed time. If they were to get separated, Rayne was to go to Capital City's central plaza, next to the tallest building. She had pointed toward the city center on the horizon, pointing out the tallest spire.

"Don't go with anyone you don't know, Rayne," she'd urged her. "If it's not someone on the squad or the captain, you need to run." Abena had looked her hard in the eyes to make sure she'd understood. Rayne had nodded in confusion, still trying to wrap her head around why she was being chased. She was free now, wasn't she? She was off that hell of a planet, among her own people. Why did someone want her? She started to get angry but kept her focus. This should not be happening. After everything she'd been through, after all the loss and suffering, someone was looking to take what little she had.

Rayne's paranoia increased and she began paying more attention to her surroundings and the vehicle that had been circling them for the last ten minutes. She kept walking as Abena and Taft both tried to give her advice and instructions if they were to become separated. She barely paid attention as she tracked a second vehicle drop from the air lanes and glide smoothly to the street in front of the station in the distance. She enhanced her vision and identified the weapons the passengers carried as they exited the car and took positions. The vehicle circling them began to descend. It was apparent they'd been located and whatever force being sent was moving in. She put out a broad-spectrum ping of the area, not caring if she was tracked. There was little point now that they'd been found.

"Rayne? Rayne?! Listen to what I'm saying. It's important." Abena tried to catch her eye as they continued to walk toward the station.

"It's too late. They've found us," she said quietly.

"What?" Taft looked around wildly. "Where?"

Rayne nodded to their front.

"Four hundred meters to the front. Black car with five men wearing the same clothes. They're carrying both lethal and non-lethal weapons." She nodded to her rear as an air car dropped smoothly from the sky and began shadowing them from the rear. "That one's been circling us for ten minutes. There are four men inside."

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Taft, irritated.

Abena answered for her.

"Cause until two minutes ago, she didn't know anyone was after her." She was worried as well, but knew Rayne couldn't be blamed for what she didn't know. "We're just going to have to go to plan 'B' a little sooner than we thought. Do you remember where to meet if we're separated?"

Rayne nodded.

"We'll come to get you. If it's not someone from the team or the captain, you run." Abena turned to Taft. "We need to run interference for Rayne."

"Got it. What do you have in mind?"

Abena shared her hastily-constructed plan and Taft smiled.

***

Lex watched patiently as the three approached. The two marines looked relaxed and uninterested at his presence. The girl. He gave her a once over. This was the girl they were after? From the descriptions and cautions he'd been given, he had expected more. She looked to be in her late teens, just as the file had said. Her hair was short, black and mostly hidden under a black cap on her head. She was tall for her age, at least as tall as the female marine walking with her, and pretty, though it was hard to tell with half her face buried in the shoulder of one of the marines as they walked. The girl wore a pair of loose-fitting cargo pants, short jacket and a small pack.

Lex grimaced. This felt an awful lot like kicking puppies. Here he was with an eight-man team comprised of ex-special forces soldiers preparing to take down a teenage girl like she was some kind of wild animal. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped forward. That was the contract. Whether it was fair or not, or she was really as dangerous as he'd been told, didn't really matter. He was getting paid to do a job and he was going to do it. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been given bad information on his target.

"Lance Corporal Abena. Private Taft." They stopped as he approached, apparently just noticing his presence. They both turned to him with questioning expressions.

Lcpl. Abena spoke first.

"Yes?"

"I'm Mr. Lexington. I'm here to take custody of this young lady here." He motioned toward the girl with her face still buried in Abena's shoulder.

The marines looked confused.

"Take custody?" Pvt. Taft asked. "For what? Has she done something wrong?" He looked nervous as the two men with the stun rifles moved in.

"Not at all, Pvt. Taft." He kept his tone professional and calm. "The young lady is apparently in need of treatment and I've been sent by Fleet Command to collect her." He really didn't know exactly what the girl was being collected for, but he guessed it involved a lot more than treatment. You didn't send a team like his for someone to bring them in for counseling.

"Oh." The marines mouthed together. They seemed to accept the situation, but the corporal still seemed suspicious.

"You wouldn't mind showing us some credentials would you? I'm not going to hand her over unless I know you are who you say you are," she said, looking him in the eye.

"Of course." Lex pulled his identification and held it up for the lance corporal's inspection. She looked it over thoroughly, looked to his face and back to the identification's picture to make sure they matched. Finally satisfied, she nodded and relaxed.

"Are you taking us, too, or just Rayne?" she asked.

His flanking team members had closed the distance, and now stood at ease with their stun weapons. The others waited either in the car across the street or at the station's entrance behind him. The transfer appeared to be going smoothly with the marines' cooperation, but they remained alert.

"Just the girl. You are free to go about your business." He stepped forward to take the girl's arm and that was the last thing he remembered for the next ten minutes.

***

Abena squeezed Rayne's arm twice as the signal she'd been given to move. Rayne lashed out with a kick to the head that left the man they'd been talking to unconscious on the pavement. She pushed Abena into the man next to her with the stun gun. Abena hooked her leg around his, ensuring he'd go down and sprawled on top of him as if she'd lost her footing by mistake. Rayne leaped over the air car for the station's entrance and saw two more men moving to meet her. Taft, seeing the other man raising the barrel of his stun gun stepped in front of it as if he was trying to call Rayne back.

"Rayne! Stop!" He got those two words out and then went down with a strangled cry as the stun round struck him in the back. Rayne heard the gun cycle again, just as she met the first man moving to block her way. She heard the stun gun fire, slipped past the man in front of her, grabbed his chin as she passed and pulled him into the path of the round as it struck his chest. He went down without a sound. Rayne was grabbed from behind in a bear hug. She snapped her head back and heard delicate nose bones break. The grip around her loosened marginally and she stepped out with her feet, grabbed a handful of soft tender flesh and twisted. She slammed her head backward again while he was distracted, catching the man on his already broken nose. His grip loosened further and she spun out of his grasp, kicking him in the temple to ensure he'd stay down.

Rayne's brain flashed warning of an incoming projectile. It was off target by several inches and shattered on the wall behind her. She ran for the entrance, tracking six men in pursuit as she ran. She needed to arm herself, but hadn't had the time to take weapons from the men she'd incapacitated. Her main priority at that moment was escape.

A train hummed quietly on the platform as she ran through the large double doors. It was a small station, with only one platform and she ran toward the far end, hearing her pursuit crash through the front doors behind her. A tone sounded as she ran, signaling the doors were about to close and the train to depart. She ducked through the nearest door as it closed.

She looked back out the window to see if her pursuers had made it on the train. She cursed, seeing three of them running down the platform looking through windows. Three outside meant three of them probably made it inside. She looked back toward the door that separated the train's cars and saw three men moving forward, checking the faces of each passenger as they went. They were nearly to her car.

Rayne looked around quickly. There were half a dozen people in the car with her. Most were engrossed in video feeds, reading or conversing, but several looked at her with curiosity. This was a horrible place for a fight, but she didn't have much choice. She ran toward the rear door and met the men coming through just as it opened. Rayne jumped, swung from the overhead racks, kicking the leader in the chest. She heard cries of surprise from the other passengers as the man fell back into his fellows. Rayne pressed her advantage as all three went down in a heap. The man in the front would still be trying to get air for several more minutes, difficult to do with broken ribs, so she caught the second man under the chin with her boot. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed on top of the man behind him. She quickly pulled the stun gun from his unconscious hands, pointed it at the chest of the third and pulled the trigger.

The car's occupants were now screaming in panic, stampeding toward the back door of the car to reach the safety of the one behind it. Rayne ignored them, pulling weapons from holsters to put them in her pack. She saw that each man carried arm restraints and decided to make sure they wouldn't be pursuing her when she got off. She worked quickly as she heard the announcement for the next station's stop and felt the train begin to slow. The time to get off was now. The train was a trap that left her with nowhere to run and was impossible to defend.

It pulled into the next station as she finished her work. The doors opened and she stepped out hurriedly, leaving the three men restrained in a circle around one of the support bars. She stepped past boarding passengers without a glance and kept moving as she heard the pounding of several pairs of feet coming down the platform. She heard cries of exclamation behind her as she kept her head down and moved through the crowd. This station was larger than the last and hundreds of people shielded her escape as several police officers elbowed their way past.

Rayne kept her head down as she moved. Taft had warned her that surveillance video could be used to track her face wherever she went. She moved to the station map and looked for the platform that would take her further into the city where she needed to be. She was tense as she searched the map, simultaneously trying to track the movement of the people around her. While Rayne had gained some control, she was nowhere near comfortable with the crowds. She'd forced her brain to accept that the people weren't all threats. It had taken days of meditation and practice to reprogram herself not to want to kill everything in sight. Now, she thought of them more as harmless mammals moving through the jungle. They could be ignored for the most part, until they proved themselves to be a threat.

"Are you lost?" asked a female voice next to her.

Rayne stepped back and eyed the woman suspiciously. She was middle-aged, short and slightly overweight. Her hair was short, dark and curled and she had a pleasant, but concerned smile on her face. Rayne relaxed slightly as she scanned her for weapons and found none.

"I'm sorry if I startled you. Do you need some help?"

Rayne nodded.

"Where you trying to get, hon?"

"City Center Plaza," she answered quietly. She kept tracking the movement around her, wondering how long it would take for pursuit to catch up.

"Platform number nine. Take those stairs over there and just look for the number. You'll want to take the green line, so you don't stop at every station." She smiled and moved off through the crowd.

Rayne walked quickly to the steps, watching as several more groups of police officers moved toward the platform from which she'd come. She found number nine and boarded the already waiting train. She sat quietly and monitored the people around her and quietly thanked the kindness of a stranger.

***

Dr. Miller walked down the hall as she scrolled through the contents of her data pad. Without their test subject, she had quite a lot of time on her hands and was currently using it to make herself familiar with the varying specialties of her fellow scientists. She'd already started off badly with Dr. Gault and didn't want to compound it by being uninformed about the other specialists in the group. She had a pretty good handle on the neurological aspects, but felt pretty deficient in the non-biological fields. The robotics and cybernetics fields were a bit of a mystery to her and she had been having difficulty following any dialogs related to those subjects.

Dr. Miller was a quick study and had signed herself into some crash courses in both fields. There was a research university near the lab and she had been auditing as many of those classes as time would allow, as well as pouring through the texts for each class. Still, it was like trying to learn a foreign language. It was ultimately possible, but would take some time.

She enjoyed being back in the university setting. She'd only finished school ten years ago, so she didn't feel too out of place amongst the younger students. She especially appreciated the fact that the Navy was paying for her tuition costs. Since the university was largely funded by military grants, and much of their research was done on military projects, tuition for her had been waved. Even better, she wasn't subject to the same homework requirements, tests and grading as the rest. She was only auditing the class, so those requirements didn't apply. Still, she did her best to keep up, even though it wasn't expected.

Dr. Miller turned down an adjacent hallway, heading for the lab and one of the other doctors who specialized in robotics. Her current assignment involved some complicated software interfaces she just couldn't quite seem to grasp and she was hoping to get a little help. The others were good-natured about helping her and didn't take offense to her asking. Many of the doctors on the team had spent some time teaching in the university setting at one time or another and didn't mind helping. They were aware she had no expertise in their respective fields and respected her efforts to broaden her knowledge base.

Glass shattered next to her head as she walked down the hall. She fell backward to the ground, startled. She looked down at the glass at her feet and then up to the open door of Dr. Gault's office.

"What do you mean she got away?! I thought you were supposed to be the best!" The voice was Dr. Gault's.

"Do you know how many people I've got sitting around doing nothing? These are top scientists! The best in their fields and they're sitting on their hands because you let their test subject escape!"

There was a momentary pause while the person on the other end of the call attempted to explain.

"I don't want excuses, Mr. Lexington. I want results!" This last was punctuated by the crash of something inside the doctor's office. Dr. Miller crabbed back, in case anything else came flying through the door. A scream of frustration sounded and then Dr. Gault came stalking out. She paused with a scowl on her face as she saw Dr. Miller lying on the floor. "What the hell are you doing? Get to work?" Dr. Gault stormed down the hall and out of sight, her lab coat billowing behind her like a cape.

Dr. Miller began pushing herself up, helped the rest of the way by the colleague she'd come to see.

"I guess we'll be in limbo for a little while longer," he said as she stood and straightened her clothes.

"Yeah, I guess so." She was still shaken from nearly being brained from whatever had shattered against the wall.

"Are you alright?" he asked with both concern and amusement.

"Does she do that often?"

"Only when she thinks someone is interfering with her research project. When she gets like that, we all hide behind something solid." He smiled. "We call her the Lioness of Athena."

***

Lex rubbed his ear. He didn't think a dot phone connection could break an eardrum, but he was beginning to wonder. Dr. Gault would have put a marine drill instructor to shame with that yell. He was glad it had been a phone call and not in person. He was pretty sure he'd heard the sound of breaking glass in the background.

He finished rubbing his ear and massaged the sore muscles in his jaw. Fortunately, it hadn't been broken, but it ached every time he opened his mouth. That had been some kick. He hadn't seen it coming either. One minute he was reaching for the girl and the next he was pulling himself off the pavement. That wasn't something that had happened to him for a while and he was determined to not let it happen again. Fortunately, only one of his men would be out of service while recovering from multiple fractured ribs. The others had recovered almost immediately from the stun gun hits or mild concussions.

The search was currently in high gear and he had everyone available devoted to the task. The facial recognition software had so far failed to catch any sign of her, so the techs were going back through the video manually to track her. He had his teams spread throughout the city in hopes that when she surfaced, he'd have at least one quick reactionary force to respond. It was obvious now their target was much more than a seventeen-year-old little girl. She was too young to have the kind of speed and technical fighting skills she'd exhibited.

Lex sat back contemplating possible strategies as one of his men walked in. He looked up as the man took a seat in front of his desk.

"You get anything?" Frustrated at his failure and reaching for any possible information that would lead him to the girl, he'd ordered LCpl. Abena and Pfc. Taft to be hooked to 'The Box.' They hadn't attempted to flee when the girl did and had helped him to his feet while his men ran in pursuit, but he still had a sense they knew something. It was nothing obvious. They were the perfect examples of cooperation. Too perfect and so he'd ordered the procedure to confirm or deny his suspicions as well as mine any relevant information from their brains. He'd ordered the same test for Weber and Jackson, both to cover his bases, and show that he was leaving no stone unturned.

"We might have something."

Lex sat forward.

"Show me." He pulled the video pushed to him and put it on his data screen. He recognized the street view as the one where the marines had walked toward the station where he had been waiting. The image was somewhat distorted, as usual, but he could clearly see as they stopped, turned toward the city center and pointed.

"Did we catch any conversation?" 'The Box' couldn't pull sound, but software could be used to read the lips of the subjects as they spoke.

"Capital City Central Plaza."

CHAPTER 9

"I'm telling you, it hurt like hell. Look, I think it actually left burns on my back." Taft pulled his shirt up and turned for the others to see.

"They seriously shot you?" Weber asked as he inspected the damage.

"That's messed up, man," Jackson added, peering over the sergeant's shoulder.

"I know, right? Definitely the worst ten seconds of my life." Taft was enjoying the attention he was receiving for taking a stun round to the back that allowed Rayne a few precious seconds to escape.

"Sounds like a good law suit. Maybe you can get them to settle out of court, retire and buy a small moon somewhere," said Sgt. Weber.

"Just don't tell them you stepped in front on purpose." Jackson smacked him on the back and Taft grimaced in pain.

"Way to take the bullet, Taft. I didn't think you had it in ya'." Abena didn't tell him she could have pulled the stun round out of his back and saved him the additional five seconds of torture. She figured it evened them up for the ugly dress he'd made her wear.

"What, and miss being able to tell everyone I threw myself in harm's way to save the day? Think of all the ladies that'll want me now?" Taft puffed his chest out in a manly display of machismo.

"About zero more than would before," Lena commented.

Taft deflated.

"Come on. I saved the day. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"I promise not to call you a wimp when I beat you up next time."

"Come on. Throw me a bone here."

Lena walked over, kissed him full on the mouth and then slapped him hard in the face.

"Worth it?"

He smiled and rubbed his stinging cheek.

"Every bit."

"Who all got 'The Box'?" asked the sergeant. He raised his hand along with Davis, Jackson, Taft and Abena.

Lena laughed out loud.

"Oh, damn, Taft. You got shot and got 'The Box', too? God must hate you."

"Yeah, no kidding. I think that was worse than being shot. I feel like my brain has been raped." They all nodded their agreement.

"Do you think they got anything from it?" Lena asked, worried.

"Not from Jackson or I," said Weber. "We didn't have anything to give up."

"Same here," added Davis.

They all turned to Taft and Abena. Abena spoke for the both of them.

"Maybe, sarge." Her mouth turned down in a frown. "As we were walking toward the station, we told her what was up and told her to head to Capital City Central Plaza. I don't know if they'll pick that conversation up, but they certainly will have seen me pointing that direction."

"Damn," Lena said softly.

"I had to tell her something. She was on the verge of panicking. I'm actually surprised she didn't, but she's changed quite a bit in the last two weeks."

"What do you mean?" Lena asked with concern.

"Calmer. Definitely calmer," Abena replied thoughtfully. "She's still as alert and jumpy as ever, but the rage monster inside seems to have taken a vacation or something."

"I'm telling you, it was the old man and whatever he had her doing with him," said Taft.

"What old man?" Weber and Lena both said together.

"At the place where we stayed, there was this old Japanese guy. He didn't speak a lick of English, but he and Rayne seemed to hit it off. They'd sit together for hours doing some kind of meditation stuff. It was weird."

Abena nodded her head in agreement.

"Yeah, after only a couple of days you could tell a difference. Definitely calmer. When we first hit planet-side I didn't think she was going to make it, but now I think she could pass for normal if someone doesn't push her buttons."

"That's a big 'if' with those Navy contractors looking to haul her in for the captain's ex."

"Speaking of, has anyone gotten to meet her? I've heard she's a real piece of work," Taft asked as everyone came to their feet. He cursed and stood with the rest as he turned around. The captain smirked, which was as close to a smile as they'd ever seen him come.

"You have no idea, private," he responded, and the tension in the room left. He walked to the head of the only table in the room and directed the marines to sit. "I want to commend you on a job well done. I asked a favor and you came through, which has given me the time I need to set some things into motion."

"Can you tell us what, captain?" Weber asked.

"I think it's still better if you don't know. For now, I want to hear the details of the last two weeks."

Weber filled him in on how they had split up and put Rayne with the least likely of them. He went through how Jackson and he had led their trackers through the wilderness area, the team's injury and their subsequent assistance in getting them out, followed by the interrogation via 'The Box.'

The captain was not happy with the use of the device on his marines, knowing its use could only be authorized by a search warrant issued by a civilian or military court. Its use, however, played to his advantage, and he planned on using it as ammunition later. For now, he let the other team members continue with the de-brief. He was impressed once again with Lcpl. Ramirez. The girl was sharp and inventive and would undoubtedly make an outstanding sergeant and squad leader one day. The captain was particularly interested in Rayne's progress. Abena's account of their time together gave him hope that she was on her way to achieving something close to normal. Whether that would ever be possible or not, he didn't know, but at least there was hope.

When Abena had finally finished the last of the de-brief, the captain sat back and thought for several minutes while the marines waited patiently. He mentally moved several pieces on the chess board in his head, then sat forward to make sure he had everyone's attention.

"It is important that Rayne not be taken. If they get their hands on her, they'll drag out any legal proceedings until they have everything they want anyway. I need you to prevent that and get her to the JAG offices at 1400 hours, two days from now. Like before, I can't have any of you taking direct action, but do anything you can to collect her first or disrupt those contractors from doing so." He looked around the room to make sure there were no questions. The captain stood and the marines stood with him. "If we do this right, Rayne will be in the clear and we can all go back to our regular lives."

***

Rayne walked through the crowds of what seemed like millions of people who occupied the Capital City Central Plaza. The festival was in full swing now and there were people from all different ethnic groups in costume and religious garb moving, dancing, singing and shouting to the beat of drums and music. The display of color was impressive, as if a magnificent rainbow had lent its colors out to the people of the city for the day. The sounds and sights were distracting though, making it difficult to sort through potential threats until they were right on top of her. She looked for someplace less crowded but was having difficulty because of her short stature. She just couldn't see far enough ahead to get her bearings. Rayne made her way to one side and climbed the steps leading to one of the plaza's tall buildings. The plaza opened up before her and she looked over the sea of humanity moving like a colored kaleidoscope far off into the distance, until it reached the tree line of the adjoining park where the crowd began to thin. She took a moment to plan her route, then disappeared back into the sea of color, sound and people.

As she went, she turned down the volume and switched to a visual filter that muted the colors and brought out any metal objects that could signal a weapon. Tracking this many people was impossible, so her brain set itself to identify patterns in the movement that would suggest she was being tracked. She kept to the perimeter of the crowd, where there were the fewest people and after a half hour walk, finally reached the tree line on the far end of the plaza. Rayne checked her scans, but so far nothing appeared to be following her. She moved into the trees and toward what looked like a small lake in the distance. It was late afternoon and there were many people sitting with their families having picnics and enjoying the shade. Children ran back and forth playing games, while their parents looked on happily. Rayne felt a sense of loneliness and loss as she watched them, remembering that she had no one to look after her anymore. She grew angry at the thought, put her head down and stalked toward the distant shoreline.

When she reached her destination, she was practically boiling. She pulled off her pack and threw it to the ground while she closed her eyes and clenched her fists. Life wasn't fair, she reminded herself, and there wasn't anyone who could make it that way. She was alone and that was all there was to it. Rayne dropped to the ground and stared out over the water onto what she realized was not a small lake, but a large, slow moving river that appeared to spill into the distant ocean. She sat on a very small stretch of sandy river bank that was partially obscured by the bushes intermittently lining the shore. The water was a dark, murky green that moved lazily past and she could smell a touch of salt in the air from the nearby ocean. Rayne crossed her legs and closed her eyes and began to meditate, contemplating specifically the movement of the water in her mind, matching breath and thought as it moved calmly past. After several minutes, her anger passed and she opened her eyes.

Abena had told her to go to the square and wait for one of the squad to contact her. She hoped it would be Lena, but whoever found her, she didn't want them to find her during the daylight hours. She wanted to do it at night, when the advantage would be hers. Rayne looked at the sky and the sun's position. It looked like there were still several hours before dark. She reached into her pack for some food and found the package Mr. Yoshimura had given her.

She opened it and found a small, delicately-made paper lantern. It was marked in black with several Japanese characters she didn't recognize. It was small, maybe only twenty centimeters, and round. It was made from wood and weighed almost nothing in her hand. On the bottom was a small framework that reminded her of a small boat. She assumed, then, it was meant to be put in the water. There was a small note attached, which she opened carefully.

Ms. Rayne,

When you came to us, I saw that your heart was troubled. Mr. Taft would tell me very little of your past and would only say that you had recently lost both your parents. The present that I give to you is called a Chōchin and is used to celebrate Obon. It is meant to send the spirit of your ancestors to the other world. I will soon be taking that journey myself, but until then, please accept this gift and find peace in sending your parents on their own journey.

Sincerely,

Mr. Yoshimura

Rayne quietly thanked the old man for the gift. She set it on the ground before her and stared out over the water as the sun slowly sank toward the horizon. She spent the time thinking of her mother and father. She thought of the good times, not their tragic endings. Rayne thought of her mother's smile and laughter, her soft kind face and encouraging words. She thought of her father and his serious, often worried face and the smile that would eventually break through at her mother's urging. She thought of the love and affection they showed for each other and for her, and held the memories close until the sun began to dip below the horizon and darkness began to take over.

Rayne activated the small light inside the lantern, set it gently in the water and pushed it into the slow-moving current. She gave a silent prayer for her parents and said goodbye as tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. She looked out across the water in awe as thousands of similarly constructed lanterns joined hers to float slowly toward the ocean. She sat quietly for an hour as the darkness deepened and the last of the lanterns floated past. Without a sound, she picked up her pack and slipped quietly back into the trees.

***

Lex scanned the crowd from his rooftop position. The digital interface linked to the company's main computer scanned for the girl's face as he looked from face to face. He pulled the spotting glass down, grimacing in frustration. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. There were at least a million people in the square and even with spotters on each building surrounding the perimeter and his software techs working the camera feeds, there was no guarantee they'd be able to single the girl out.

The lead from the marines had been solid. That, coupled with the additional intelligence of her exit from the train at the City Center Plaza Station added to its veracity. He'd committed all his people to this one small area and he was determined to finish it here. He was tired of Dr. Gault screaming in his ear and had promised himself never to take a contract where she was involved again.

"Hey, Lex." The comms were all active and linked, so they could send and share information in real time. He'd listened for the last hour as his teams had spread themselves around the perimeter of the crowd, waiting to move as soon as the spotters directed their movements. The voice on the other end of the comm was one of the techs monitoring the video feeds.

"You got something?" The sun was beginning to set and he squinted against the glare as its last rays lit the crowds below him. The plaza lights came on after dark and he could see some of them flickering on now. But when full darkness came, the spotters would be hampered by the contrasting bright lights and deep shadows that would make it easier for the girl to slip past them unnoticed.

"The scanning software picked her up on a feed a few hours ago. She's definitely here and we're trying to track her route now."

"Where was she?"

"North side of the plaza on the steps of the New Meca Business Building. We think she was moving west."

"Was she still wearing the same clothes?"

"Yes. No change there."

"Push the latest photo from the train station to all the teams. I know they already have it, but I want it fresh in their heads if she pops out somewhere."

"Done. Should take us only a few minutes to give you a trail."

Lex pulled the spotting glass back to his eye and scanned the front steps of where she'd last been seen. He didn't expect to see her there, but was tired of looking where she wasn't and wanted to at least see some place where she had been. Five minutes later the tech came back with the news he'd been hoping for.

"She went west, Lex. Into the tree line and toward the river, and she hasn't come back out. There is no exit that direction, boss. Not unless you plan on swimming."

Lex kept a tight lid on his excitement. He wasn't going to celebrate until he had the girl locked tightly in a cage and money in his account.

"Spotters. Start scanning the tree line. You heard the intel. There's no exit that direction, so she's either still there or coming back out." He began scanning the tree line as he continued to issue orders to the ground teams. "All teams except Bravo, I want you to move up and form a lose skirmish line." Lex was a little worried about the presence of the crowd and the problems that could present should any injuries occur in the take down. The fact that the girl was in the trees, where the crowds were thinner, was a good thing and made chasing her less difficult than if they were forced to go through the center of the plaza. He waited patiently as one by one each team called their position and readiness. For now, they'd wait and see if she'd come to them.

***

Rayne crouched in the darkness, watching as the skirmish line formed before her. They weren't wearing the tan slacks and black shirt uniforms they'd been wearing before, but she knew who they were. Skirmish lines didn't just form up at random on the edge of a tree line where someone being chased was hiding. They'd found her again. Rayne frowned. Wasn't that the story of her life?

She thought through her options. There were no exits to the park behind her; she'd already checked. During festival time, the park was partially closed down to accommodate the different venues, prep areas, and storage. Security was tight in those areas and access restricted. She'd have to punch through quite a line of security to get past. The other option was to swim the river. That was a possibility, but not one she was eager to try. She could swim okay, but wasn't one hundred percent sure she'd make it all the way across. Drowning wasn't on her agenda today, so that left the way she'd come—back through the now present skirmish line.

Rayne pulled one of the weapons she taken from the contractors out of her pack. She hefted it in her hand and considered the options. She could kill them. That wouldn't be too hard, but the thought of her mother and father frowning on that particular decision prompted her to put it back in her pack. Besides, any rounds she fired off would likely be done with the crowds as backdrop. She didn't want to be responsible for hurting anyone who wasn't trying to hurt her first.

She put her backpack on and tightened the straps. She'd run for it. That's all she had and she hoped she'd be able to lose herself in the crowd before they could snatch her. She stood and moved toward the southern end of the tree line. She didn't want to try and run straight through their middle. That would put her in the position of being almost instantly surrounded. If she moved to the edge, she could deal with the first two quickly, then hopefully have the space to make her escape. She closed her eyes, preparing herself mentally for what she was about to do. Just as she turned, the bracelet on her wrist vibrated. She held it up to her face, scanning it in the dark. The bracelet had been given to her by Taft, just before they'd separated. He'd told her she would be able to buy things with it, and she had. He hadn't told her it would do anything else. It vibrated again and she tapped the small dot on its face.

"Rayne? Are you there?" It was Lena's voice.

"Lena?" Rayne felt a flood of relief. "Where are you?" She scanned the crowds, hoping to see the marine's face.

"We're on the east side of the plaza. How are you holding up?"

"Okay." She wasn't sure of what else to say.

"Stay where you are. We're coming to you."

"Okay, but they're waiting for me too."

"Who's waiting?"

"The ones who are chasing me."

She heard Lena curse softly.

"How many?"

"At least twelve that I can see. They're set up in a line at the edge of the trees. I think they're waiting for me to come out." She heard more cursing. Not all of it from Lena.

"Rayne. You cannot let them take you."

"Can I kill them?" While her parent's disapproval weighed heavily on her, Lena's permission would swing her in the other direction. Her parents were dead and Lena was here, the only moral compass she had left.

"No! No. You can't kill them. Well, not unless it looks like they're going to kill you first. Then it's okay."

"Can you kill them?" She knew they could. She'd seen them do it, but wasn't sure if this was one of those situations where you should or not.

"No, Rayne. We can't kill them either. The captain told us we're supposed to help you without making it look like we are. Does that make any sense?"

It didn't really. But she trusted Lena and would follow her lead.

"What should I do?"

"When I tell you to, I want you to run."

***

"Contact! South end!" Followed by a strangled cry.

"I got her!" The sound of commotion, then heavy feedback.

Lex swung his spotting scope toward the south end of the tree line. The bright lights on the perimeter made it difficult to see, but he could make out two prone figures on the ground. Neither were female.

"Has anyone got eyes on?"

"Got her! Running along the south perimeter, heading west!"

"Teams converge!" Lex moved his scope to try and pick up the target. There, moving fast through the crowd. He panned to look for his converging teams and cursed. The girl was moving so fast there was no way they'd be able to get to her to physically take her down. He didn't want to use fired projectiles, but it didn't look like they were going to have a choice.

"Stun rounds authorized. Take her down." Unless she could run faster than ninety meters per second she'd be down in short order.

He heard the pop of two stun rounds being fired over the comms and returned his focus to the girl as she ran. She wasn't down as he had expected, but continued to run, faster than should be possible.

"What the hell, guys?!" He panned back to see his man picking himself off the pavement. He heard cursing over the comms.

"Stupid tourist tripped me and the shots went wide." His man began running again as two other members of his team caught up and passed him.

Lex checked his anger.

"Get her before she gets out of range. Bravo team, move to block." He heard two more rounds pop and more cursing.

"Watch the civilians!" someone shouted.

"Move, move, move!"

He heard screaming in the background and grimaced. This was turning into a junk show. He pulled his eye off the glass and looked down on the crowds with his own eyes. He swore as he saw the crowd surrounding the chase start to panic and run in an attempt to escape the chaos. A stampede in a crowd this size would be bad.

He heard more cursing and what sounded like another of his men going down. He looked to see another of his men down in a tangle of limbs with a civilian pushing a baby stroller. Great, that was all he needed. The pursuing teams had converged and nine men ran past, not bothering to help their downed comrade. They almost immediately went down when several large bins of colored chalk fell from its placement onto the running men. They quickly scrambled to their feet, cursing and coughing together, continuing the chase in varying shades of blue and pink.

Lex swung back to the girl as he heard several more stun rounds fire. Pop, pop, pop, pop sounded in quick succession, and he watched as she impossibly anticipated their approach and rolled below their trajectories. There was no way he had just seen that. Pop, pop, pop sounded again. The girl jumped sideways and several civilians went down. He cursed vehemently. This was going all wrong. He watched the crowd and made a quick decision. They'd been fortunate so far that the crowd hadn't been able to hear the shots over the noise, but he wasn't going to count on his luck holding out. If the crowd stampeded, people would die and he'd never see another contract from anyone.

"All teams, stop with the stun rounds. Bravo team is moving for a blocking position. All I need is containment."

"Lex, the police bands are lighting up."

He cursed. The police weren't a problem necessarily, but they would get in the way of what was already a crappy takedown.

"Can you get through and get them to back off." There wasn't a whole lot of love lost between the civilian police force and the Fleet contractors. The police felt the contractors had no business conducting operations on their turf. They weren't afraid to make that perfectly clear every time they crossed paths. They got particularly pissy when an op disturbed the civilian population, like this one was starting to.

"Make up some crap about tagging a dangerous AWOL marine."

"On it."

Bravo team had moved into position now and it wouldn't be long before the girl found herself trapped. The trailing teams looked a little worse for wear, but all he needed was containment, and this should go down smoothly. He hoped so, anyway. As it was, he was going to be taking some heat for the way this had gone down.

Lex watched as the girl ran forward toward her captors. He smiled.

"Run little girl, run." He could see her pause briefly as she saw the four men standing before her, blocking her way and then unexpectedly accelerate forward. She shot into their midst like an angry cat and began wreaking devastation. In less than a heartbeat, two men were down and the remaining two were in the fight of their lives. The girl moved so fast it was hard to follow as she twisted, struck, moved and kicked in rapid succession. The third went down while the forth managed to pull her to the ground where the fight continued. He thought his man would have the advantage of weight and power that would make the difference, but if anything, he seemed to be at a disadvantage as the fight became even more vicious. Soon, the girl was kneeling on the man's chest pummeling his face into a bloody mess.

The trailing team arrived and ignored the orders to hold the stun rounds. He couldn't blame them after seeing her take down their four teammates. More stun rounds popped off and the girl dodged and rolled. Not toward escape, but directly into the middle of the men firing at her. Not one of them had been able to land a hit and they now found themselves unable to use their stun guns without hitting one of their own team.

Nine against one and Lex wasn't sure it would be enough. He'd just seen the girl take out four special-forces soldiers in less than ten seconds. By all rights, the fight should be over, but it was far from done. The rolling mass of bodies on the ground below him would have been funny if the future of his company didn't hinge on its outcome. The nine men below him stopped trying to fight the girl and simply tried to overwhelm her with numbers and the weight of their bodies. Several of them were thrown like rag dolls from the pile, pulled themselves up and jumped back on. This happened several times until someone finally pulled a stun round from his weapon and manually slammed it into the girl's back. The whole group took the ride with her for ten seconds as the current dissipated through them all. The effect left them sprawled on the concrete for several seconds until they began to pull themselves up.

Lex yelled at them through the comms.

"Get up! Get up! Do it again, and then get that damn neural block on her." He'd used the neural block before on high risk subjects and it worked like a charm. He'd gotten the tech from the doctors who conducted the Sarodian Stress Test used by Fleet. The girl was nearly to her feet when one of the downed team reached over and slammed a round into the girl's leg. She went down like a ton of bricks and his man took the second ten-second ride with her, while one of the others placed the small metal band that was the neural block on. Her body continued to strain through the stun round and then fell still.

***

Lena stripped off the wig and slammed the baby stroller into the wall. She stalked toward the rest of the squad gathered in the narrow alley just off the square. They'd all done their best to spoil the pursuit, but had come up short. Thirty seconds. That's all they'd needed-- thirty seconds and Rayne would have been clear. She cursed again as she joined the rest.

"Everyone okay?" Sgt. Weber asked.

"I got tagged with another stun round," answered Taft. He looked Lena's way hopefully as she joined the group, but quickly shied away from the murderous look on her face.

"You're a one trick dog, Taft. Where'd they get you this time?" Abena asked seriously.

"Right on my ass." That drew a few smirks, but no laughs. There was nothing funny about blowing a mission.

"We're going to go get her, right?" Lena was furious and everyone looked from her to the sergeant.

The sergeant didn't respond immediately.

"This is crap!" She tried to keep her tone low so she didn't attract attention. "What's to think about? Let's gear up and take her back!"

"Ease up, Lena," Jackson said. "Let the sarge think."

"We can't let them have her! You heard the captain. They won't let her go now until they have everything they want." She stepped toward the sergeant. "Come on, Mike. You know we need to do this."

"You need to calm down." Jackson put an arm around her, but she threw him off.

"I do not need to calm down! Back off!" Lena squared off with Jackson like she was prepared for a fight. Everyone looked at each other nervously. It wasn't common for Lena to lose discipline and it was shocking to see.

Davis stepped forward, grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to the side. She resisted, but he maintained his tight grip and dragged her back from the group to a discrete distance. Davis wasn't senior in rank but had more time in than anyone on the squad. He had enough training and experience to lead the squad, but no desire to do so. He was there to fight, not tell other people what to do. He wanted no part in the leadership responsibilities that came with rank, but still, everyone respected his opinion and listened when he chose to speak. On those rare occasions when he pulled you aside, you didn't argue.

After several minutes of harsh, angry words from them both, they returned to the group. Davis had obviously lined Lena out. She'd probably thank him for it later, but was still furious for the moment. She wasn't in charge of the squad and she needed to support whatever decision was going to be made.

"Lena's partly right," Sgt. Weber began. "We can't leave her, but we can't assault the research facility either." He looked at Lena, who was still angry, but confused about where the sergeant was headed. "Is everyone agreed on that point?" He looked around the group, seeing their nods of agreement before finally coming back to Lena. "Agreed?"

She gave a reluctant nod. Besides going against the orders the captain had given, an assault on the research facility would get them court-martialed and imprisoned for a fair length of time.

"What's the play, sarge?" Davis asked, gripping Lena's shoulder.

"Everyone remember the neural disrupter they used for your Sarodian Test?" They all nodded and Lena's face brightened in comprehension. "Well, they happen to be using it on the only person who has ever come out of it." Devilish grins spread across the marines faces.

"Oh, man. They have no idea what they've gotten themselves into," laughed Taft.

***

Dr. Gault practically skipped through the corridors toward the lab she was so excited. Finally! They had gotten her test subject. The entire lab was abuzz as she walked in. Technicians, doctors, and scientists were calibrating equipment and prepping instruments for what would be the first round of tests. They weren't going to let any grass grow under their feet, even if they did have years of work and funding to do it. There was just so much work to be done and so many angles to pursue, it was hard to decide which course to take first, but that's why so many different disciplines had been pulled into this team. They would do the initial workup and then split up into their perspective fields before finally coming back together to compare notes. Without a doubt, the first year would be very exciting, but it would be at least another five before they began to generate any real-world applications from whatever data they obtained.

Dr. Gault walked into the lab and put on her professional demeanor. It wouldn't do to have everyone see her skipping through the lab like a little school girl. Ms. Miller was the only one not actively engaged in prepping and looked a little lost. Dr. Gault felt for the doctor whom she thought of as little more than a girl. She was definitely out of her league, but would come out the other end all the better for it. She swelled with pride at her own magnanimous actions in bringing up such a junior doctor into the realms of greatness.

Dr. Miller walked forward and greeted her.

"Good morning, Dr. Gault. You heard the good news?"

"I did. Took them long enough, but I think you'll find the wait will have been worth it."

"I think you're right about that. But I haven't let the time go to waste."

"Yes. I've heard you've been making regular appearances at the university." She doubted the girl would ever be in their league, but maybe she could at least follow some of the conversation.

"I was getting lost in the technical aspects."

Dr. Gault smiled.

"That can happen in a crowd like this."

"How long until they get here?"

"They told me it would be thirty minutes, so it should be anytime now." They turned toward the commotion at the far end of the room. "Ah, speak of the devil." Dr. Gault strolled forward to see her new test subject. She was annoyed to see Mr. Lexington walking next to the gurney as the girl was pushed into the room by two lab techs. It wasn't usual for the man to show up in person and she preferred it that way. Like most military types, the man was a Neanderthal, considering him a necessary evil convenient to use from time to time.

The girl, she noted, was in less than ideal condition. Dr. Gault observed a black eye, cut lip and numerous contusions on her exposed face and arms. Undoubtedly, there were more underneath the torn and soiled clothing. She also noted the neural block in place on her head. She'd read the files, but still couldn't imagine the necessity for beating the girl into submission, along with the application of the block. There was also a burn mark on her leg, indicative of a stun round. She frowned. He better not have damaged her test subject.

Mr. Lexington saw Dr. Gault and made a line straight for her. She decided a little snark was in order for his tardy response.

"Did the little girl give you some trouble?" She gave him her best smirk.

He stopped before her, leveling a cool stare.

"I want my payment now."

"You'll get your payment as usual, Mr. Lexington. Deposited to your account in forty-eight hours." She tried to wave him away dismissively, but he didn't move.

"Not good enough this time, doctor. Payment now."

"I don't have time for this, so if you'll...," he didn't let her finish, but put a hand up to silence her.

"You will make time." The cold stare suggested he was in no mood for an argument and wouldn't leave until he got what he wanted.

Dr. Gault could see from the corner of her eye that activity in the lab had ceased while everyone eyed the spectacle beginning to unfold. Dr. Miller had actually taken two steps back. The coward. She wasn't used to being told what to do in her own lab, and she liked it even less coming from a nearly illiterate thug like the one standing before her. For sure, he wouldn't be getting any more contracts for her. Not after the delay, and certainly not after speaking to her this way in her own lab. If he was lucky, he might get contracts picking up poodle poop in the park after she was done with him. She briefly contemplated calling for security to have him removed, but decided she didn't want to deal with the hassle. There was work to be done and she didn't want to waste it on this idiot.

She pasted on her best condescending smile.

"Fine. If it's that important to you." She tapped her dot phone for the lab's accounting office. "This is Dr. Gault. Send Mr. Lexington his fee. Yes, I know, but he is demanding payment now. Just make the payment and then red flag the company from any further contracts with our labs." She ended the call and looked down her nose at the man standing before her. "Satisfied?" She watched his eyes twitch as he checked his account via his retinal viewer. He made no comment but turned and left the room. "What an ass," she said, as the activity in the room resumed. "All right folks," she said, addressing everyone. "We've got some work to do."

"Um, Dr. Gault?" Ms. Miller warned as she began a physical inspection of her test subject. Ms. Miller was standing several meters back, as if afraid to approach. What was the girl afraid of? It wasn't like she was going anywhere with the neural block on.

"I really think we should consider physical restraints." She looked worriedly at the still, peaceful form before her.

"Whatever for?" Dr. Gault said distractedly, continuing her inspection. She noticed that the bruising and cuts she'd seen earlier appeared to be healing themselves. Fascinating. She grabbed some antiseptic wipes and began cleaning the exposed skin to get a better view. Sure enough, the injuries were already healed.

"If you remember from my psychological report, she overcame the block used in the Sarodian Test while the test was in progress." She shifted several more steps back.

Dr. Gault smirked, turning to give Dr. Miller the full force of her contempt.

"The result of an equipment malfunction due to old and improperly maintained equipment, I'm sure."

"But..."

"What's being used here is top-of-the-line, at least two generations ahead of what you used. I gave it to Mr. Lexington myself." She stepped forward to emphasize her greater stature. "However, if you'd like to leave the room while the rest of us work, you're more than welcome." Man, she loved her heels. They were a pain to walk in, but they gave her a height advantage and made her legs look awesome.

Dr. Miller turned white as a sheet, took several steps back and ran from the room. Dr. Gault was a little taken aback. She'd definitely turned the intimidation dial up, but not that far. Huh! She wouldn't have thought the little psychologist would be that easy to scare. She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to work.

***

Rayne floated without thought. Occasional memories flitted past her unseeing eyes. She grabbed for them, but they eluded her grasp. Like butterflies. Rayne liked butterflies. The thought caught in her mind and she stopped drifting. She remembered blue butterflies. She chased a single blue butterfly across the inky expanse of space. She chased it past spinning stars and pulsing supernovas. She chased it through brightly painted nebulas. She jumped from planet to planet like crossing a stream over rocks, following the butterfly as it danced through her fingers. She chased it through white, billowing clouds, across a blue, sparkling ocean, and onto an endless plain.

Lights flashed across the blackness of her closed eyes, like the flickering of a malfunctioned data screen. Sound came in staccato bursts; sometimes loud and sometimes quiet. There were voices speaking, but she couldn't make out the words from the intermittent data stream. Her hair coiled like a snake on her head and then fell still, moved, and then fell still again.

The white dress she wore billowed around her knees. The long grass moved with a gentle wind and tickled her legs. She stopped and let the butterfly go. Twin suns dipped toward the horizon, turning the passing clouds a pretty orange. She closed her eyes and tilted her head toward the suns. She swayed with the moving grass and smiled as the suns warmed her face, and she felt the wind's gentle touch on her skin.

Rayne turned and faced a towering jungle. The tops of the trees stretched to staggering heights, looming forward in the gathering shadows as first one and then the other sun sank out of sight. She backed slowly away, keeping a close eye on the shadows, not willing to simply turn and run and expose her back to the enemies within. She attempted to ping the depths, but the energy flared and dissipated in a shower of bright lights that fell and sank into the ground. Shots of electricity shot through her limbs, causing her skin to tingle and the hair on her body to rise. The signal to her optic nerve stopped flickering and the dream fled as she came to full consciousness. She was unable to move or open her eyes, but she needed to see what was around her and put out a broad spectrum ping. This time, instead of dissipating, it burst forth, leaving her with a very clear picture of where she was.

She was in a medical facility or lab. She lay on a gurney, unable to move, surrounded by people and equipment. Equipment that these people would use to take her apart and steal her freedom. That was so not going to happen. Rayne searched through her body and found her own nervous system had been disabled. She felt the cool metal of the neural block and cursed. She waited for the T80 inside her head to finish cycling through its reboot and then used the adjacent pathways it had built over the last several months to bend it to her will. She opened her eyes into the harsh light and immediately shaded them with her secondary lids. She took several moments to find calm in the anger that threatened to overtake her. There wouldn't be any killing today. Lena had said she couldn't kill them, but they were going to pay for trying to steal her freedom.

Rayne sat up, swung her legs off the gurney, and pulled the neural block from her head. She stood as a doctor in a white lab coat and pretty face turned to face her. The doctor's eyes grew as big as saucers just before falling unconscious from a fist to her face. Rayne snorted. Whoever it was, they certainly couldn't take a punch. The people in the room began to scatter. Rayne made no attempt to follow or attack, but set about doing what she could to destroy every piece of equipment in the room. They wouldn't be doing tests on her anytime soon.

***

Lex made it to the lobby of the research facility. He wasn't happy. The payment for the girl's capture would barely be enough to cover his expenses. More than a few of his men were injured and it would take most of what he'd been paid to cover the cost. Not to mention the time off they'd need to recuperate. The loss of any further contracts with the research facility were not terribly troubling, but he'd have to do some damage control and kiss the right butts to counter anything the doctor decided to do. She was a powerful, well-connected woman and crossing her wasn't a good idea.

It had been a long day and he decided to have a cool drink before going back to the office to wrap up. He paid for a drink from the vender in the lobby and sat back, looking out the large glass windows. He was mildly surprised to see that the sun was rising. Had he been going for that long? Come to think of it, he was rather exhausted. Maybe he'd wait and get some sleep before going back. That's what he had office staff for anyway.

He had nearly dozed off when alarms began to sound. He looked up and saw people moving in an orderly manner toward the exit. He didn't smell any smoke and was sure he would have felt any explosion. He stood and joined the others as they moved out the door. He stopped as he heard the sound of running feet, turning to see a dozen terrified lab techs and doctors running his way. Lex stepped aside as they barreled through the crowd in their panic to get out the door. Assuming something was terribly wrong, the others joined in the hysteria and a full-blown stampede ensued. The crowed pushed and shoved, crushing each other in their attempts to get out the door.

Lex was definitely curious now. He wondered idly if some stupid idiot had taken the neural block off the girl. He heard a commotion from further inside the building that sounded like breaking glass. Half a dozen burley security guards ran through the lobby and disappeared around the next corner. Several seconds later, he could hear punches and heavy objects hitting the ground or walls. He moved back to where his drink rested on the low table and took a long swallow. He winced as one of the security guards went flying across the hallway, through the window and into the outside shrubbery.

Yup, she'd gotten loose. Somebody else's problem now, though. He leaned up against a pillar to watch the rest of the show. Several more guards sprinted through the lobby and down the hall. He took another sip of his drink, wondering what it would be like to have someone like that on his payroll. He winced again as the girl blindsided them just as the guards rounded the corner. Damn, she moved fast. Two were down in the blink of an eye and Lex raised his brows as she lifted the third, who must have weighed nearly one hundred thirty kilos, and tossed him through the window to follow the other. The girl tipped her head back and let out a primal scream completely at odds with her human form. The sound raised the hackles on the back of his neck.

She stalked toward the now deserted lobby and exit. She glanced his way as she walked past and he controlled a shiver at the black film covering her eyes. He tipped his glass her direction as she walked out into the morning sun, pausing briefly at the top of the steps and then walked toward a waiting air car before speeding away. It wasn't until she left that he realized he'd been holding his breath. He let it out and took a long pull from his drink, just as Dr. Gault staggered into view. Lex choked and nearly blew his drink out his nose.

The doctor looked like she'd just walked in from an all-night drinking binge. Her hair was down and a total mess, her make-up was smeared and running down her face, while her left eye was black and starting to swell shut. Her lab coat was hanging off one shoulder and she was limping, not from any apparent injury, but because one of the heels on her shoe was broken and dangling by a thread as she attempted to walk. She staggered drunkenly past and pushed through the lobby doors without a glance, swaying in the early morning light for several long minutes before turning and walking back inside. She stopped short when she saw him.

"I need your team. The girl escaped." Her eyes seemed a little out of focus.

"I see that." Lex smiled, finishing the last of his drink.

"Get your team together."

"I don't think so."

"What?" she asked in confusion and anger.

"My company has been red flagged, if you'll remember, and even if it wasn't, the answer would still be, no." He set his drink down, gave her a short, two-fingered salute and walked out the door.

***

"Anything yet?" Dr. Gault stopped her pacing to look over the tech's shoulder.

"Nothing yet, ma'am. Give it some time. The face recognition is going to take a little while to propagate planet-wide." The tech was being patient, but having someone not technically your boss stand over your shoulder while you worked was irritating. But the boss had said give her access, so here she was. He glanced back at her, not for the first time wondering where the swollen black eye had come from. She would have been pretty otherwise. He wondered if she was single, but quickly decided it wouldn't be worth it. "If we're lucky, we may get some hits locally and can then work the trail from there."

"I'm not paying you to get 'lucky', I'm paying you for results," she growled and began pacing the room again.

Definitely not worth it, the tech thought to himself. This was going to be a long day, which he sincerely hoped wouldn't turn into a long week. If she stood over his shoulder the whole time, not only would she wear a hole through the floor with her pacing, but he would be forced to jump out the window. Maybe he could sneak some alcohol in.

The tech sat up as he received an alert from his console. This was definitely a lucky hit. He typed quickly at his data screen as the doctor appeared beside him.

"You have something?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Where?" she asked impatiently.

"The Athena Fleet Command building." He jumped at her reaction.

"What!?"

"Ma'am? Why would your test subject be there? I thought you said she was on the run?"

"Why, indeed." Her face set into an angry mask and she began walking toward the door.

"Do we call the retrieval team?" he asked as she reached the door.

"No. I'll handle this myself." She stalked out the door and he admired the view as she went. Nope, not worth the trouble, he thought as he returned to his work.

***

"Where is she, Jason?" Dr. Gault asked without preamble. She wasn't surprised by the call.

"What, no hello? That's not very polite, Lizzy."

She flashed her visitor's badge as she walked through security.

"Where's my test subject?"

"Maybe if you said 'please,' or how about this, maybe if you can remember her name." His voice was calm and controlled, as always, but she detected a note of contempt mixed in as well. She found herself moving toward blinding red fury as she walked. He had better be ready to move when she found him because anything not nailed down would be flying at his head.

"Don't mess with me, Jason! So help me, I will bury you!" She ignored the stares she drew as she stalked through the halls.

"Calm down, Lizzy."

"Stop calling me that! And I will not calm down until I have my test subject back! You took her from me and you will give her back."

"I did nothing of the sort. My marines found her walking the streets and simply picked her up and brought her to me until it could be determined what should be done with her."

"What needs to be done with her is to have her transported back to my facility where she belongs."

"I don't think that's for you to decide any longer."

"What?!" She was approaching the JAG offices where she'd last seen her ex and cast around in hopes of seeing him.

"Why don't we discuss it? Does right now work for you?"

"Absolutely. You wearing your helmet?"

"I don't think there will be any need for that," he replied with infuriating calm. "Take the next door on your left. Conference room number 2005."

The line went dead as Dr. Gault burst through the door. She stopped short and looked around at the small gathering.

"Ah, Lizzy. Thanks for joining us." Her ex stood and greeted her while the rest of the people in the room turned. "Would you please take a seat so we can get started?" He indicated a chair at the end of the large, conference room table.

Dr. Gault moved suspiciously toward the offered chair. This wasn't any type of court proceeding. There was no one of high enough rank for that, but there were several junior officers whom she vaguely recognized. If they didn't have 'admiral' in their title, she didn't bother with the name. She had a number of admirals in her back pocket, though, and she was sure that trumped whatever was on display here. Dr. Gault sat as she arranged the chess pieces on the board inside her head. She could deal with this, whatever it was. She was, after all, the smartest person in the room.

"Jason, would you mind telling me what you're up to?" She looked around the room and noted several civilians, whom she didn't recognize, several of her ex's marines and, as the captain sat back, her test subject.

The girl locked eyes with her and Dr. Gault could swear her hair shifted of its own accord. Her stare showed no fear, but rather a predatory alertness that was distinctly uncomfortable. The girl's lip curled into a snarl, but she made no other show of aggression as the female marine sitting next to her lightly placed a hand on her forearm. She noted the marine's smirk as she glanced at the doctor's swollen black eye.

"I'm doing exactly what I said I'd do, Lizzy. We are here to determine the placement of this young girl. Rayne, in case you've forgotten."

"Maybe you'd like to make the introductions, since I'm not familiar with everyone in the room."

"Certainly. I believe you've already met Rayne."

Did she detect a hint of humor in his voice? She certainly couldn't miss the smirks from the marines in the room. The girl didn't react, but kept her predatory gaze locked in place. "To my right is Capital City's Deputy Attorney responsible for the Child Services Division, Nancy Atwater. To my left is my personal attorney whom I think you'll remember, Ms. Kuvinka."

Dr. Gault frowned. What possible reason could he have for bringing his personal attorney here? For that matter, why was an attorney from the Child Services Division here? It didn't make sense and she was having trouble placing them on the board.

"Directly across from her is Captain Bhandari from JAG." That one she understood and could work with. If there was going to be any decision made, it would have to involve their office and she was relatively confident in her ability to influence the outcome with her connections.

The doctor was feeling a little outnumbered.

"I see you have a number of attorneys here to serve whatever purpose you're trying to get at. Should I be calling mine now?"

The JAG officer spoke.

"That is entirely up to you, Ms. Gault."

"Doctor, if you don't mind."

"Of course, doctor. We will not be discussing any criminal charges at this time, so the need for personal counsel will not be needed. This is a mediation meeting to determine the proper placement of this young lady. If you insist on having your counsel here, we'd be happy to wait."

Dr. Gault's brows drew together in thought. Two things caught her attention. The first was that they would not be discussing any criminal charges, 'at this time.' That was ominous, but everything she'd done was done hand-in-hand with Admiral Ricks and the contractor. If there was anything underhanded, she was far enough removed to be insulated from any prosecution. Still, it would be a hassle she didn't need. Easily fixed with a few well-placed phone calls. The second thing was that this was a mediation meeting. She was somewhat familiar with the term, having gone through a divorce. She understood it to be a meeting where all involved parties gathered in an informal setting to hash out the details to a legal agreement that would later go before a court. This felt like a set-up and she was not going it alone with everyone in the room against her; certainly not if there were going to be any binding agreements made.

"I want my counsel here. I'm not entering into any type of negotiations without them." She pointed her finger at the girl, ignoring the return snarl. "That girl is under my care and I will not agree to anything that involves her being removed from my custody." Dr. Gault just barely managed not to say, "the girl is mine." Semantics were important when dealing with legal drones, and while it might be true, it wouldn't endear her to anyone in the room.

"I assumed as much," said her ex. "I hope it wasn't presumptuous, but I anticipated your request and asked them to attend."

This was definitely a setup. She could feel the pieces being moved on the board, but couldn't see the final outcome yet. Jason wouldn't bring her lawyers into this unless he had something up his sleeve. She glared at him, trying to bore through his skull to see what half-baked plan lurked inside. He should know better than this. There was not a single argument he'd ever won, and their divorce had been a total rout. Leaving the system was the smartest thing he'd ever done and trying to take her on was about to be the stupidest.

The JAG officer had gone to a side door and made a brief request to the secretary outside. Several minutes later, Dr. Gault's attorneys filed through and took their places next to her.

"Hello, Elizabeth." The greeting came from her personal attorney, Janet Friaz. The woman had handled her divorce and was a hell of an attorney, to which her ex could attest. She'd gotten pretty much everything in the divorce, and anything that went to her ex were things she didn't want. "I tried to call you, but couldn't get through." The doctor had been ignoring her calls all morning while she hovered over the tech's shoulder waiting on information about her escaped test subject.

"Sorry," she replied. "I was in the middle of work." She patted the woman's arm. The man on her other side was the corporate attorney for the lab. She was only vaguely aware of who he was as their paths didn't cross often. The lab was attached to a multi-billion credit company, so he had to be decent. Feeling property armed and ready, she turned back to her ex, "Now, why don't we get on with this, so I can collect my test subject and get back to work?" The comment drew a frown from the Child Services attorney.

Her ex motioned to Cpt. Bhandari.

"I believe you were going to lead the meeting. Why don't you go ahead, Cpt. Bhandari."

"Thank you, Cpt. Gault."

Dr. Gault rolled her eyes. If this was their version of informal, she was going to die.

"I believe we are all aware the purpose of this meeting is to determine the placement of this young lady." He motioned toward the girl. "I have it on record that her full name is Rayne Sunset Harper."

That was new. Dr. Miller's records had been absent that information. Dr. Gault assumed the doctor had withheld it in order to prevent the girl from being transferred out of system. It had been on her list of things to have someone do. The captain read through the girl's personal data: birth date, system of origin and parent's names, blah, blah, blah. Get on with it already, she thought.

"Is all the information accurate, Cpt. Gault?"

"Yes."

"Can you briefly summarize how you came into contact with Ms. Harper? I'm pushing your detailed account to everyone in the room." There was a short pause as the participants read over the information. "Go ahead, captain."

Dr. Gault listened as her ex spent the next ten minutes recounting his scouting mission to the Ross 614 star system, where he had received a distress call. He told them of his shock to find the lone T80 on the planet and the subsequent rescue. He further related Rayne's removal from the combat suit and subsequent attempts by the station to treat her. It was dry and monotone, and Dr. Gault's lids began to droop until Cpt. Bhandari spoke again.

"Can you tell us what you discovered regarding the girl's identity?"

Dr. Gault was beginning to get impatient and voiced her disapproval.

"What does this have to do with anything regarding her placement?"

"You'll have your turn to speak, Dr. Gault."

These people were messing with her work and making a game of it. She was determined to end this now.

"Look. The captain," she said with as much sarcasm as she could manage, "has already pointed out that she is military personnel using military equipment, rescued by military forces, and then subsequently treated by military facilities. That puts her soundly under the authority and responsibility of the military." The attorneys at her side nodded their agreement but didn't interject while the doctor was on a roll. "I received personal authorization from Admiral Ricks to take over the treatment of the girl. In fact..." she sifted quickly through her data files and pushed her procurement order to everyone in the room. "...here are the orders signed by the admiral himself." She sat back in satisfaction as the attorneys in the room scanned through the document. The girl maintained her predatory gaze, and if the doctor weren't worried she'd blacken her other eye, she'd have told her to sit back and keep her freaky eyes to herself.

"Thank you for your input, Dr. Gault," Cpt. Bhandari responded after he'd finished reading the document. "Captain, would you please continue with regard to why you chose to remove the girl from the station's care?"

"Oh, really? Do tell, Jason. You have a history of hi-jacking government property?" Once again the attorney from Child Services grimaced. Why was she here again? Her personal attorney put a hand on her arm and spoke quietly.

"Let him speak. We have the high ground. Let's see what they have." The doctor sat back and listened as her ex droned on about how the girl had supposedly been brutalized by station security and then subjected to a psychological test that was well outside the bounds of what he termed normal, reasonable or necessary. Oh, she wanted to puke. He used that phrasing so often he should get a patent.

Dr. Gault couldn't contain herself.

"So, let's make sure everyone understands. Based on unverified testimony that this girl was 'brutalized.'" She made quotation marks with her fingers to emphasize the word, and then continued. "You made a decision based on your extensive medical experience that this girl should be removed from a Fleet treatment facility." She laughed loudly. "That's rich, Jason." Her attorney licked her finger and chalked a '1' in the air before her. The lab attorney smirked at the obvious point for their team.

Her ex turned his gaze toward her and answered.

"First, not unverified. You will see attached to my report the affidavits of a number of Procyon Naval Station personnel attesting to that fact. Second, the decision was made in concert with my ship's doctor, since as you alluded, I don't have any medical experience. But more importantly, I acted as one human being would to another. Do you remember what that's like, Lizzy?"

"Don't lecture me, Jason. The girl needs treatment..."

"Don't give me that crap about treatment. You know that's not what you're after."

"Please!" Cpt. Bhandari held up both hands for quiet. "Let's try and keep this civil." Seeing that he'd gotten the cooperation he wanted, he put his hands down and straightened his uniform. "What kind of treatment needs did the girl have?"

"You have the medical reports before you, but the initial physical injuries were dealt with fairly competently. The psychological issues were the ones that needed addressed and the station seemed ill-equipped to deal with them. So, I removed her from their care with the intention of finding more competent treatment on one of the system's planets."

Cpt. Bhandari looked confused.

"I'm sorry, but isn't Athena pretty far out for seeking psychological treatment? That's what, ten light years?"

Her ex turned to her.

"Why don't you explain that one, Lizzy?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as all eyes turned her direction. "I got a message from a Dr. Miller on Procyon Naval Station. She sent me the patient's file and asked for my assistance."

"What kind of assistance?"

"Medical assistance. You wouldn't understand," she answered dismissively.

Cpt. Bhandari scowled.

"Why don't you break it down for us in the simplest of terms?"

She returned his scowl. She was beginning to dislike him.

"The girl has some anomalies in the structure of her brain that are of some scientific interest. The doctor asked that I look into them."

"So, you arranged to have Captain Gault's ship re-assigned to this system?" he asked incredulous.

She smirked at his response and her attorney put a hand on her arm, whispering for her not to answer. She ignored the advice. She'd done nothing wrong. She'd simply made a request to a certain admiral. The responsibility was his, not hers.

"Of course. It was hardly practical to move my lab there."

Her lab attorney took advantage of the silence that followed to speak.

"Look, this is all very interesting, but I fail to see how any of this prevents Dr. Gault from taking custody of her patient right now. Maybe Procyon Station personnel were incompetent. So what? Dr. Gault, as anyone who is familiar with her reputation will attest, is not."

"I beg to differ."

"What?" Her head snapped toward her ex. She looked about for something to throw.

"The first thing she did when we came in-system was to send out a bunch of thugs with stun guns to take her down."

The Child Services attorney looked up in shock. What was she doing here again?

"You used stun guns on her?"

"They were hardly thugs and, yes, stun rounds were used in the eventual recovery."

Cpt. Bhandari had a look of concern on his face.

"Maybe you should explain."

"I fail to see how that has any bearing on this proceeding," said her lab's attorney.

"Humor me," replied the captain. He turned back to her expectantly. "Dr. Gault?"

Fine, she thought, let's see if we can get that crappy ex of mine in a little hot water while we're at it.

"I strongly suspected Cpt. Gault was keeping the girl from me. Instead of handing her over, he sent her off with those marines of his. He wouldn't give me information on where she was so I could begin treatment, so I was forced to have her traced and retrieved using a military contractor specifically for that purpose."

Captain Gault interrupted.

"For those in the room that aren't familiar with the contractor she's referring to, let me enlighten you. Lexington Tactical Services is a government contractor specializing in hostile retrievals. They accept contracts in everything from black ops, and government-authorized kidnappings, to standard surveillance and dignitary protection. Their members are comprised of ex-special forces operators and have a reputation for being a hard-hitting, get-it-done group." The captain swept his gaze across the room. "And these are the guys she sent after a psychologically traumatized young girl."

Dr. Gault couldn't help herself and laughed out loud.

"Don't be so dramatic, Jason. It was hardly all that."

"No? Every one of my marines were tracked down by this group. Four of them were subjected to enhanced interrogation and one was hit with a stun round."

She tried to interject, but he talked over her.

"And to finish it off, they engaged in a chase that nearly resulted in stampeding the holiday festival, several civilians being struck with stun rounds, and Rayne herself being pummeled by this group of contractors trying to kidnap her!" He finished the last at full volume. Captain Gault calmed himself with a visible effort. "Here, why don't we watch the video?" He pushed the video file to the large data screen for everyone to see. It showed the final takedown with the girl going down under a pile of muscle and swinging fists, finally succumbing to the stun round and neural block.

Everyone in the room was shocked. The Child Services attorney was practically hyperventilating. Dr. Gault was a little shocked herself. She didn't get to see the end result when she sent one of the teams out for a job and the ugliness of the retrieval was disturbing. But that wasn't her. Not her fault and not her responsibility. She was, however, beginning to see her ex's plan of attack unfold and it was time to put an end to it before it gained any more traction.

"I'm sorry that happened. It was certainly not my intention to have the girl hurt." She latched quickly onto a sudden spark of genius. "In fact, I've already red-flagged that contractor for their brutal tactics. I would never condone that kind of action toward one of my patients."

"Oh, really," her ex shot back.

"Yes, really." She put on her most humble and kind expression. Not one she used often, but still good nonetheless. "You know I'd never hurt anyone."

"Let's listen to what the good doctor has in mind for Rayne," he said, addressing the room. "Shall we?" He pushed an audio file and played it over the data screen. "This is a conversation between me and Dr. Gault last week in which she stated her intentions."

Dr. Gault felt the color drain from her face as the recording began.

"They're going to find her anyway."

"You know that, right?"

"Quit being a poor sport. I won. Just like I always do and just like I always will. You should be used to it by now."

"She's mine, Jason. She's my test subject and you shouldn't have gone messing around where you don't belong."

"I'll do whatever I want with her."

"I'll scan her, poke, her prod her and put her in a cage, and when I'm satisfied I've gotten everything I can from the outside, I'll dissect her into little bits and analyze those too. There's not a damn thing you can do to stop me."

The room was stunned into silence. After several long moments, Dr. Gault regained the ability to speak.

"That...that...was taken out of context," she began, but couldn't find the words to continue. Fortunately, her lab's attorney was still in the game.

"I recognize that last bit was pretty ugly. Undoubtedly, it was said in the heat of the moment and I'm certain the doctor has no intension of committing the monstrosities she alluded to. I'm also certain none of us would want to be held responsible for every careless word we've said while angry." He looked around the room to gauge his audience's response. Dr. Gault silently thanked whoever had hired the man to represent the lab. Damn, but this guy was good. "While I understand and even sympathize with Cpt. Gault's appeal, I'm afraid it does not affect the legal aspects of who has ultimate authority on the patient's treatment. I believe we have established she is, if not military property, at least under military control and subject to its whims, regardless of how unsavory."

Captain Gault interrupted him.

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, sir."

"How so, captain?"

"Rayne Sunset Harper is not, and never has been, a member of the military. Furthermore, in case you failed to note, she has yet to reach the age of eighteen." He took a moment for that to soak in and to allow everyone to check the file.

Dr. Gault closed her open mouth as she began to think through the legal ramifications. That would explain why the Child Services attorney was here. She thought quickly. There was still an out and she jumped on it quickly.

"Nice try, Jason, but she's an orphan, as you've already pointed out." She looked across the table in triumph. "And, since she was recovered by the military, I believe her disposition and treatment is the responsibility of the military as well. Tell me that's not true, Mr. Procedure."

Her ex smiled back at her. It wasn't a friendly smile and she wondered what she'd missed.

"I see something of me has rubbed off on you, or have you been studying?" He shifted through the documents on the data screen in front of him. "You're quite right, Lizzy, but I'm afraid you missed a few details. Let me push the full text to everyone so you can follow along." '...the placement of juveniles will be made at the direction of the commanding authority, unless a legal guardian can be found. In which case the legal guardian shall have sole responsibility...' he read through the text and stopped.

Dr. Gault was nonplussed.

"So? She's an orphan. The military is her legal guardian now."

The attorney from Child Services spoke.

"Was an orphan. Captain Gault is her legal guardian now. We formalized the adoption two days ago."

So that's why she was here. Dr. Gault was dumbstruck. She'd just been totally outmaneuvered by her ex. This wasn't a one-hit wonder either. This had taken time, planning and creativity, something she'd never thought him capable of. If she wasn't so angry about losing, she'd find him incredibly attractive right now. She stood and her attorneys stood with her.

Cpt. Bhandari stood as well.

"Well, I guess that settles it then."

"Hardly," she said, storming from the room with her attorneys trailing in her wake.

CHAPTER 10

Admiral Gault sat at his desk reviewing the morning's data files. Even after six months, he was still trying to get up to speed on all the requirements for his new rank and assignment. Someone, actually several someones, had seen how he had outmaneuvered his ex-wife and thought he'd make a perfect fit for a post recently vacated by Admiral Ricks, who'd taken an early retirement amidst the corruption proceedings that were still in progress. His ex may have had a number of high-ranking officers and officials in her back pocket, but you didn't climb that high without making a fair number of enemies. Those enemies had seen the perfect opportunity to put a stop to the doctor's influence and had used him to toss a very large monkey wrench into the works. The new Admiral Gault now found himself with final authority over all Fleet procurements and oversight of its contractors. If the doctor wanted anything, she'd have to go through him first.

Dr. Gault was not at all pleased with the arrangement, and even less so about losing access to her test subject and the disbanding of her research group. Without the test subject, there could be no group. She'd filed several appeals to the JAG office via her lab attorney, but all had been denied and those in high places who were previously disposed to influence outcomes on her behalf had distanced themselves because of her current legal turmoil. While somewhat separated from any illegal acts, she had found herself a constant fixture in the many court proceedings and hearings that followed and was having to step light and fast to avoid criminal charges herself. Admiral Gault had no doubts she'd make it through relatively unscathed. In the meantime, he worked to get up to speed as quickly as possible. The vacation wouldn't last forever and when she directed her attention back to him, he had better be ready. He was already forming a dizzying array of plans and contingencies for the battles he was sure would come.

One of the first things he'd done in his new position was to order an audit of all contract work or other testing being done on military personnel. He was determined to eliminate the abuses of the past and ensure there were no further incidents. There were already several programs he'd shut down and red flagged. That had sent a fairly large shock wave through the community and sent the message that abuse of test subjects was no longer acceptable.

He'd just reviewed the latest audit when his secretary stuck her head in the door.

"Your eleven hundred appointment is here. Shall I show her in?"

"I'm surprised she didn't show herself in."

"She was busy on a call. It sounded like her attorney."

"Ah, that would explain it."

Admiral Gault had no great desire to interact with his ex any more than he had to, but he believed in keeping trouble makers as close as possible. She swept in, dominating the room as she always did. He stood and greeted her, offering a chair as he did so. She remained standing. She was still pouting but it didn't appear he was in any danger of having heavy objects thrown at his head.

"Come on, Lizzy. Take a seat."

"Will this be long? I have a meeting in an hour and I need to do some prep with my attorney." She crossed her arms and remained standing.

"I didn't ask you here so we could fight," he said with a grimace and took his seat.

"What, you wanted to gloat some more?"

He kept his face impassive and didn't rise to the bait.

"Not at all."

"Then what?" she snapped.

"Well, it is your birthday and I thought a gift might be in order."

She snorted in disgust.

"Right. What did you get me, some crappy snow globe like you did that one year?"

"Hey, that was a good gift. Or at least it was until you broke it throwing it at my head."

"It was a stupid gift and throwing it at you was the most useful thing about it."

He took a deep breath and forged ahead.

"Regardless, today is your birthday and I think you'll appreciate what I have more than the snow globe."

"I seriously doubt it." She folded her arms and glowered.

"I think you will." He pushed a data file to her.

"What's this?" she said skeptically.

"Take a look," he urged.

She opened the file, scanning it quickly with her retinal viewer. She sunk slowly into the previously offered chair.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Yes," he answered with a smile. "Happy birthday."

"Is this a trick?" she asked, continuing to scan the file.

"You know I don't play that way." She raised her eyebrows in reply. "Well, not about this." He walked around the front of his desk and sat before her. "Look, I'm not holding any grudges about what happened. I did what I thought was right and I hope you can see that. I'm hoping we can reach some kind of understanding. At the very least, I don't think we have to be at odds or cross purposes all the time. What you have there is a token of good will, so to speak." He watched her as she continued to scan the file without answering. His ship board doctor had taken extensive scans, tests and notes on Rayne during their time on the ship. He had withheld those from the Procyon Naval Station data files and hadn't allowed anyone else access until now. The file would not completely replace having a test subject, but it was enough to generate quite a lot of research.

She finally focused her attention back on him, appearing somewhat mollified.

"Thank you, Jason. I'm still angry though."

"I'm sure you are," he replied, moving to take the seat next to her. "I also have one more offer, but it may take some time and will be entirely up to Rayne."

"Rayne?" she repeated with a suspicious look.

"Yes. She'll be finishing up her core education within the year and she'll be wanting money for college."

"College?"

"Yes."

"For what?" she asked uninterestedly and went back to scanning the files.

He sat back in the chair and watched her.

"Dance, actually."

She scoffed.

"Of all the things she could do and she's going to do something as useless as that?" The doctor was by no means a patron of the arts. The only reason she attended anything having to do with them was for the political contacts she could make.

"She'll be eighteen by then and legally able to make her own decisions."

"So..."

"So, if she agrees and if things are done by the standards I set and with my constant and personal oversight, she could enter a contract with your lab so you could continue your testing."

She was dumbstruck. Of all the things she could have expected when coming into his office, this was probably the last. Dr. Gault now devoted her full attention to the conversation.

"Have you already spoken to her about it?"

He hesitated before replying.

"Yes."

"And?" She asked expectantly.

"She growled at me." He continued hurriedly. "But give it time. I think when the time to pay tuition comes, she'll re-think her position." He smiled and Dr. Gault returned it grudgingly.

***

Rayne's eyes were closed as she rose and fell with the swell of the ocean. She lifted her face to the sun and felt its warmth soak in. The wind dried the water from her body as she floated, relaxed on the ocean's surface listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the distant shore. She kicked her legs back and forth, enjoying the movement and feel of the water. She took a deep breath of the salty air and wished for the day to last forever.

She was on break from school. Not an official one actually. Lena had shown up at her applied physics class and convinced her to play hooky. It hadn't taken much convincing. The class was easy and the teacher so boring he could have put her dad to shame. The word didn't feel right yet, 'Dad.' She still wasn't sure she liked it. It felt like a betrayal to her real father, like he had somehow been replaced. But Captain Gault, Admiral Gault now, didn't feel right either. Neither did Sir, Mr. Gault, Jason or 'Hey you.' They'd agreed on 'Dad' because it was better than any of the alternatives. Admiral Gault was enough like her own father that the transition wasn't horrible, but it would still take some getting used to.

Rayne watched Lena paddle back through the surf. She was good and seemed to be having the time of her life. In the last six months, Lena had brought her here perhaps half a dozen times. She'd picked up surfing on the first try, much to Lena's annoyance. It wasn't her fault she had a machine in her head that made everything easier.

Lena was still planet-side for a few more days while the ship and crew transitioned to having a new captain. She spent her weekdays training with the squad, but spent her weekends with Rayne. Sometimes she would come alone and it would just be her and Lena. Other times, other members of the squad would come and they'd make a party of it. Today, it was just her and Lena. Rayne had been attached to her before, but it was an attachment born more out of necessity than real friendship. However, the last six months had solidified their friendship and they were now as close as sisters.

Lena paddled up.

"Did you see that?"

"You mean the spectacular crash with arms and legs flying everywhere?"

"That was me halfway through an aerial. I almost had it."

"If you say so." Rayne closed her eyes and continued to enjoy the sun's kiss. They both floated quietly, enjoying the moment for several long minutes.

"I'm shipping out in two days. Are you still going to see me off?" Lena was lying back on her board, her feet dangling in the water. Her hard, deeply-tanned body glistened with water as she bobbed up and down in the ocean swells.

"Of course," Rayne replied without opening her eyes. She'd been trying not to think about it, secretly hoping Lena would be reassigned to something that would keep her on Athena. They'd talked about it off and on, but it was clear Lena wasn't ready to give up being what she was, a T80 combat marine. Rayne understood. Probably better that most. There was a thrill to the fight. The fear and anger were intoxicating and there were times Rayne missed it. She couldn't stop Lena from being who she was any more than she could be normal again.

"How about the admiral?"

"No. He's got some meeting or something." They drifted in silence for several more minutes. Rayne opened her eyes and stared up at the blue, cloudless sky. Several butterflies danced across the ocean's surface and she reached out and snatched one from the air.

"It is seriously creepy when you do that," Lena said with one eye open.

"I like butterflies," Rayne shrugged, holding the captured insect in her hand. It was blue. She liked the blue ones best.

"Speaking of creepy, the admiral told me you were thinking about contracting with the evil scientist."

Rayne didn't answer immediately, examining the still-captured butterfly closely.

"You gonna to do it?"

"I haven't decided yet," she replied absently. She still had a deep dislike for the doctor that had tried to steal her freedom in the name of science. Being made to share the same breathing space with the woman made her hands itch for a weapon.

"You need the money for school, don't you?" Lena spoke with both eyes closed as they rose and fell to the rocking of the ocean.

"Yeah." Rayne enjoyed the light tickle of the butterfly's wings in her hands as she cupped them loosely around it.

"I think you should do it."

"Why?" Rayne asked incredulous.

"I think it would be funny."

"Funny how?"

"Just think how much money she spent trying to track you. Then, when she finally gets you, you break out, punch her in the face, break all her equipment and beat up their security team. Now she has to pay you for the privilege. It's hilarious." Lena gave her a broad grin.

Rayne smiled in return. "I didn't think of it like that."

"You can negotiate your own terms. Make her pay out the nose for it. Dang girl, you could be living like a queen, all at the expense of her evilness."

Rayne laughed.

"That sounds great. I think I just might do it." She laughed again and let the butterfly dance away on the light wind. She closed her eyes to enjoy the moment and then turned back to Lena. "I'm hungry. I'll buy your lunch if you can do that aerial," she called as she paddled toward the shore and the breaking waves.

"You're on!"

###

Thank you for reading my book. I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer. If you want to let Rayne know what you think, leave her a message at Raynesunsetharper@outlook.com or leave me a message on Facebook, <https://www.facebook.com/TheRayneChronicles/?ref=hl> and I'll make sure she gets your message. You can also check out my Smashwords profile at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/Schultz642 .

Thanks!

Roger Schultz

About the author:

Roger Schultz lives in the mountains of southeast Idaho where he spends his time working and thinking of productive ways to spend his time. Since he hasn't come up with anything productive yet, he spends it riding dirt bikes, shooting guns and working on stories and art to entertain his friends and family.

The Rayne Chronicles:

Rayne

Rayne Again

Acid Rayne

Death Rayne
