Betrothed Episode One

  Chapter 8

  The days passed.

  Whenever Mark visited, I asked him about experiences we’d shared, trying to catch him in a lie.

  He was too smooth.

  It was only when I asked him about my betrothal contract that I saw him twitch.

  He stiffened, his left cheek contracting.

  But then he found some excuse to leave.

  I’d given him my betrothal contract, and I now realized that if I still had it, it could be the proof I so desperately needed. With my identity implant removed, it would be harder to prove who I was. The Newfound Institute would still have a full atomic scan of me, as would the Contracts Office. But getting out of this room was the problem.

  Unless I could prove to the doctor I really was Annie Carter, he wasn’t going to take me to the Contracts Office just to check.

  Then again, my doctors kept changing. I never saw that kindly looking alien with the barrel chest again.

  I was fragile, an emotional wreck, and yet a part of me wasn’t.

  A part of me was waiting and watching for an opportunity.

  I didn’t know what Mark was doing.

  As crazy as it sounded, I still wanted to trust the guy.

  Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome talking, or maybe his constant requests for me to trust him were working.

  He’d been my rock. Without him, I would have gone nuts years ago.

  Most days I sat on my bed doing nothing.

  Mark had provided me with a holo TV, but it only had entertainment shows.

  I usually adored entertainment shows, but not right now.

  I wanted to see the news. I wanted to see the fake Anna Carter and hear about the upcoming wedding.

  When I asked Mark about getting some news channels, he just laughed and told me I hated the news.

  Slowly, the pain behind my left eye returned. It seemed to flicker back on whenever my fear mounted.

  I told one of the doctors about it, fearful it was another stroke in the making. They took scans but assured me it was fine.

  Relax, they kept telling me.

  Soon I’d remember who I really was.

  They kept repeating that phrase so much, it was the last thing I heard when I fell asleep and the first thing I remembered upon waking.

  As the days flashed by and the pain behind my left eye increased, something strange happened.

  I started to get the compulsions again.

  The ones that told me what to do.

  At one point a doctor came in to run some kind of brain scan, but rather than tell them about the piercing pain behind my left eye, I lied and said I was fine.

  Because the compulsion told me to.

  It sounded like a crazy defense – and it was crazy, completely crazy – but I couldn’t stop myself.

  I had to get out of here.

  I had to get to the Contracts Office and prove my identity.

  So I started to hatch a plan of escape.

  I kept going back to my window, checking its integrity with prying fingers. Pretty soon I realized it wasn’t a window at all. It was a goddamn hologram.

  I wasn’t in a room; I was in a cell.

  My determination to escape grew. Though I couldn’t be 100% sure it was my determination; the compulsion was growing and growing. And every time it grew, so too did the pain behind my left eye.

  Soon it didn’t feel like I was in control anymore.

  I wasn’t hatching a plan; my brain was.

  And finally, after about a week of being locked up and studied, my opportunity came.

  A doctor came in to do a scan, and he dragged a heavy looking device with him that hovered off the ground a few centimeters on blue glowing hover pads.

  The pain behind my left eye exploded. It was excruciating. I jerked my head to the side and clamped a hand over my face.

  Far from looking concerned, the doctor looked elated. The emotion didn’t last long, but long enough for me to see it flickering in his three alien eyes.

  He took a step back, bringing up his wrist and playing with a holographic implant as he sent some kind of message.

  A message he didn’t get to finish.

  I did something.

  I swear I saw myself doing it before I did it. It was just like the strange vision I’d had when I’d helped Captain Fargo catch the Borgolian.

  I reached over, my fingers as quick as darting insects. I grabbed something behind the device and started manipulating it.

  The doctor jerked his head around, all three of his eyes pulling wide open with fear.

  Before he could say or do anything, the device gave a sharp beep then sent an electric pulse shooting toward the doctor.

  He jolted backward, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he fell to his knees then hit the ground.

  I sat there for a few seconds and shook. All over. Like I was convulsing.

  Then I pushed myself up and off my bed.

  I stood over the doctor, staring down at him as I pressed a sweaty hand against my mouth.

  I saw myself turn and head toward the door.

  I honestly saw myself do it before I did it.

  It was like some kind of dream playing in my mind, and all I had to do was follow in its footsteps.

  So I did.

  Before I made it out of the door, however, I saw myself lean down and pluck something from the device.

  I had no idea what it was, but I pocketed it in my simple white tunic, then I walked out.

  Fortunately, there were no security guards out in the corridor, and there was no one to stop me as I turned around and keyed something into a panel by the wall. With a whisper quiet hiss, the door closed and then disappeared into the wall.

  I took several staggered steps back, my eyes opened wide as I surveyed the corridor.

  I was free.

  After a week of being trapped in that cell, I was free.

  Though not completely.

  I still had to break out of this building, wherever it was.

  I pushed off down the corridor, my breath a hard lump in my chest and my heart beating like a drum.

  Though I was terrified, that didn’t stop me from running down the corridor, pausing at a junction, then picking a left turn and rushing off again.

  My terror didn’t stop me, because something else was in control.

  The compulsion.

  Though I couldn’t really say it was in control; I could stop myself and ignore it at any moment. But it was still there. A vision playing in my mind over and over again like a set of instructions for me to follow.

  It was crazy. Insane.

  And yet it helped me select the right corridors. As I ran along, though I could hear other people in the building, they never came my way.

  I never encountered security checkpoints either.

  Soon I found myself in front of a great big door with several panels beside it.

  It looked secure, like the kind of door you had to keep out an enemy or the cold vacuum of space.

  I hesitated for a brief moment, the pain behind my left eye becoming excruciating.

  It was like an explosion going off in my brain.

  I had to dig my teeth hard into my lips not to scream.

  Seconds later I saw myself reaching out and typing something hurriedly into the panel.

  With a jolt, I moved forward and followed my vision. I could barely control my fingers, and they twitched and shivered as if I was trying to hold a live wire.

  Nerves pumped through me, and yet after several seconds of manipulating that panel, the door opened.

  With a shuddering gasp, I stepped back and saw what was outside.

  I wasn’t high up in the sky on some kind of tower like the view from my so-called window had shown.

  Instead, I was underground.

  Way underground.

  A basement city stretched out before me.

  It had a massive hollowed ceiling, and many, many levels all carved out of the rock and braced wi
th metal.

  The level I was on was quite high up, and it offered a stunning vantage as I stared down at the rest of that dark city.

  I’d seen a lot of things in this universe since waking up, all of them amazing. But this, this was in another league.

  I felt like I’d been taken out of reality and put into some kind of a science fiction novel.

  After several seconds of standing there and staring, I walked forward. It was the compulsion, the compulsion telling me to run.

  My heartbeat increased three-fold, my arms and hands actually shaking from it, and I pushed myself out of the door.

  There was a metal gangway beyond it, one that looped around and connected to other gangways and bridges that formed an interconnected pathway through this underground maze.

  Though there were lights, nothing seemed to push the gloom back. Because it was more of a feeling. This oppressive sense you got when you were underground, and no amount of artificial lighting would change that.

  As I ran along the gangway, my bare feet struck the metal, the indents and grooves transferring onto my soft flesh.

  The tunic I was in was overly large and bunched around me as I sprinted forward, my loose hair trailing over one shoulder as I turned sharply to check on the doorway.

  No one streamed out to run after me.

  They clearly didn’t know I’d escaped.

  But had I escaped? Sure, I wasn’t in that building anymore, but I was still underground.

  I had no idea where I was, but I realized it was probably the basement level Mark had tried to lead me to a week ago.

  I jerked my head around and concentrated on running.

  Soon enough I could see people. They were walking along the gangways, entering doorways and buildings, their expressions locked with concentration.

  As soon as I saw them, I slowed down. I tried to look like I belonged here.

  Which was hard.

  I clearly didn’t fit in. A small human woman in a large white hospital tunic with crumpled hair and a terrified expression.

  Fortunately, everyone I passed was too busy with their own business to pay me much attention.

  I hunched my shoulders in, locked my hands on my arms, tucked my head down, and tried to hide behind my hair.

  And I hurried.

  Somehow I knew which direction to head. Though the pain behind my left eye was subsiding, it wasn’t gone completely, and neither was my vision.

  It stayed with me, guiding me until finally I reached an enormous set of stairs. Beyond them, I could see the flickering glow of sunshine.

  I couldn’t control myself. I threw myself at the stairs, my bare feet padding against them.

  Everyone I passed jerked their heads around to stare at me, but I didn’t care anymore.

  I was almost free.

  I was almost free.

  Though the stairs were long, I ran all the way up until finally I reached the surface.

  I recognized the planet, recognized the architecture of the distinct skyline, but I didn’t recognize where I was.

  These weren’t the stairs Mark had tried to lead me down a week ago.

  I was somewhere else in the city.

  Somewhere that looked, frankly, dangerous.

  Though the sun was high, with one look at it, I realized soon it would be dusk.

  Considering dusk lasted for all of two minutes, after that, it would rapidly become night.

  I drove my teeth hard into my bottom lip and tried to think.

  Now my vision was no longer pushing me forward, my fear could return. And it returned in spades. It felt like someone had stabbed me with an adrenaline-filled syringe, and my limbs started to shake, a slick of sweat covering my top lip and running across my shoulders.

  People were staring at me.

  And the stares weren’t kind. They were enquiring, suspicious, and calculating.

  I had to get out of here, and I had to get to safety.

  I pushed away, trying to make myself a small target as I hunched my shoulders in and huddled my arms around my middle, but I couldn’t control my thoughts.

  One question kept impressing itself upon my mind. Was this the right thing to do?

  Out of everyone in this entire universe, Mark Havelock was my only friend.

  And he’d kept asking me to trust him.

  Yet I’d just run away.

  Was this the right thing to do?

  I couldn’t answer that. I had no idea what Mark was doing and no idea what was happening to me. I had no idea why he was pretending I was someone else.

  But there was one thing I knew: I couldn’t go back down there.

  I had to get some place safe. Though the compulsion was gone, that fact rang true in my mind, louder and larger than any other thought.

  Now I no longer had my implant, I couldn’t use the few universal credits to my name. If I’d had access to money, I could have ducked into any number of shops and synthesized myself some new clothes and shoes.

  I had to find something else to wear; I was sticking out. Everyone kept staring from my rumpled tunic to my bare feet, then back to my face with suspicion. I probably look like I’d broken out of the hospital… because I had.

  I didn’t have anything to trade, and I doubted anyone around these parts would help me for free.

  I just had to get out of here. So I tucked my head down, and I walked.

  …

  Anna Carter

  It didn’t take long until I reached the familiar clean streets of the diplomatic district.

  By that time I was a wreck. It was also becoming impossible to stop the stares. I was still dressed in my overly large white hospital tunic, and by now my expression was haunted, my cheeks a sickly white.

  If someone hadn’t called the security forces, they would soon.

  I didn’t know where I was going, or at least my conscious mind didn’t.

  My body kept pushing me forward until finally I ran right into the back of someone.

  They were rock hard, and I bounced off their back, promptly falling on my ass.

  Captain Fargo turned. At first, he looked concerned, but then his expression quickly contorted with alarm. “You.”

  “You’ve got to help me.” I latched a hand on his sleeve and looked pleadingly into his eyes.

  He looked shocked.

  “I just… I escaped from the clinic where they were holding me. If you could call it a clinic. I… I don’t know what’s going on,” I stumbled over my words.

  He pressed his lips into a frown and checked something on his wrist device. “Escaped from your clinic? According to records, you were discharged and sent to the nearest newfound institute.”

  “… That’s impossible. It wasn’t an institute – it was a cell. They… They kept running tests on me. And I….” I shivered as I locked my arms around my middle.

  “You are confused. I will take you somewhere and get you the help you need.”

  “No, the only thing I need right now is for someone to start listening to me,” I snapped, voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

  “Why is that every time I see you, you’re harassing the people who are trying to help you?” Someone said from behind me.

  Fargo’s expression slackened, his eyes drawing wide.

  I knew who it was before I turned, knotted hair tumbling over my shoulder.

  Hart.

  He locked me in the same disdainful look I’d become used to. Though, just for a second, it crumpled with something close to concern as he took in my disheveled appearance.

  “I am sorry for disturbing you, your grace.” Fargo nodded his head low. Then he took a step in front of me as if trying to hide my appearance from view.

  “First it was your betrothal, and now it is the police. Newfound one, you are granted a certain period upon waking to adjust to this universe. But you do not mistake that as an allowance to attack and belittle the people who are trying to help you.”

  I felt sick. But that wasn?
??t all: the pain behind my left eye was back.

  A feeling – a truly peculiar one – started to build in my stomach. It was so sudden and strange, I had to clamp a hand over it.

  Fargo’s brow crumpled. “Sorry, what was that? Betrothal?” He looked back at me.

  “I first met this woman in the Contracts Office,” Hart pointed out dismissively, “when she was complaining vociferously about her betrothal.”

  Fargo’s brow dug harder into his eyebrows. “That’s impossible; she’s not betrothed. There must have been some kind of mistake, your grace. Her name is Miranda Fall, and there is no existing contract to her name. She is a recent newfound one, and she is suffering from confusion.”

  “I saw this woman’s betrothal contract, and I’m not confused,” Hart said with an impassive stare. “I suggest you check her identity again, as you are the one who’s mistaken.”

  Relief flooded through me, but I could barely note it. For some reason, I was frozen on the spot as if someone had turned me to ice.

  That strange feeling kept building. It was dancing faster and faster with every second.

  Fargo’s brow crumpled with obvious concern and confusion. “I simply don’t understand how that’s possible,” he said after a lengthy pause in which he studied me closely.

  “Do not question my witness,” Hart said.

  “I apologize, Illuminate.” Fargo dipped his head low in a clearly respectful move. When he raised his head again, he swiveled his gaze over to me for a brief second. “I was not questioning your witness, I’m simply confused about the situation. There is no record about this earthling’s betrothal.”

  Illuminate Hart looked nonplussed. “Then there has been a mistake. I suggest you solve it. Now I must leave; there is much for me to organize.”

  I found my voice. It burst out of me. “No, no wait. I… I’m Annie Carter,” I managed. “Something’s going on and I—”

  “No, you are not.” Hart turned and walked away.

  That was it.

  “I apologize, your grace. This Newfound one is confused,” Fargo managed.

  He needn’t have bothered; Hart was already gone.

  I couldn’t move. All I could do was stare with an open mouth at his departing form.

  I’d told him who I was… and he’d dismissed me. Maybe that made sense – there was no evidence to back up my crazy claim. But it… it felt so wrong.

  It felt like something had broken.

  I whimpered and pressed a hand into my left eyebrow.

  Fargo turned to look at me. For several seconds he said nothing; he surveyed me as closely as a targeting sensor.

  “Do you know what’s going on here?” he asked plainly.

  I shook my head, still incapable of turning my head from Hart’s departing form.

  He assessed me again, before taking a step back, clamping his hands on his hips, and sighing deeply. “This is not something I have time to deal with now. The lead up to an Illuminate wedding is always one of the tensest periods for our security forces.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” I managed.

  He twitched an eyebrow up. “Don’t be sorry, earthling. Come with me, and we’ll try to sort this out.”

  Finally, I tugged my gaze off Hart’s departing form, and I turned to study Fargo.

  He had a kindly expression.

  I knew then and there I could trust him.

  So I did. I followed him forward.

  After several minutes, my head tugged to the west. I didn’t know what I was looking at until I saw a figure on one of the levels below us.

  Despite the distance, I recognized him. Illuminate Hart. He had a hand pressed on the railing as he stared at the view. Not at the sprawling city below, but at the stars above.

  I walked with my head turned to the left as I stared at him until Fargo led me out of sight.

  A twitch of nerves started to build in my gut.

  It was the oddest of sensations. And yet, despite its strangeness, I still knew what it meant.

  Somehow, some strange how, I knew what I was afraid of.

  Being apart from Illuminate Hart.

  Which was impossible; I hated the guy. Yet I couldn’t deny the certainty forming in my mind.

  …

  Fargo took me to the Central police building. I was glad of the number of people darting around. It made me feel more secure.

  He led me up to a front desk.

  The security officer on duty behind the front desk snapped a sharp salute.

  “At ease,” Fargo said. “I need to make enquiries.”

  The security officer nodded. Her gaze darted toward me. “Is she a Crim?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Fargo leaned forward and started typing something into the panel sunk into the counter before us.

  I stiffened, my mouth becoming as dry as a desert.

  Had I been wrong? I thought I could trust Fargo, but maybe this was a mistake.

  “Do you want me to look after this?” The security officer tucked her hands behind her back and shot me a steely gaze.

  Fargo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shot me a slow look. “No,” he said with some finality, “I’ve got this one. First things first, I want to confirm her identity.”

  The security officer shifted forward and glanced at the panel beside her. “Miranda Fall. Earthling. Newfound one, woken up 100 years ago from stasis.”

  “Any contracts out on her?” Fargo asked as he stared at the same panel.

  The security officer shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “I see,” Fargo said quietly.

  I didn’t.

  How the hell did they know who I was? Or, rather, who I wasn’t?

  My identity chip had been removed. They shouldn’t be able to access information on me – even if it was a lie – so quickly.

  I took a nervous step toward the bench, my feet squeaking against the floor.

  The security officer jerked her gaze up to stare at me.

  “I – sorry, but… how are you getting that information?” I managed.

  “Identity chip,” the security officer snapped.

  “But mine was removed,” my voice shook as I brought a hand up and pressed my fingers into the point just below my left ear.

  The security officer shot me an impassive look. She leaned forward and slapped a hand over her panel, and the image hovering above it changed. It turned into a biometric scan of my body, and an implant blinked in red. It was now lodged below my right ear.

  Instantly, I jerked a hand up and pressed my fingers into the point shown by my biometric scan. As I palpated the flesh, I felt something small and hard underneath my searching fingers.

  Fargo watched me out of the corner of his eye.

  I made no attempt to hide my shaking surprise. “B-but my identity implant was on the left.”

  The security officer pressed her lips together, and it was clear from her unwavering expression she had no sympathy for me. In her mind, I was either wasting Fargo’s time, or I was a criminal pretending to be innocent. “You’re confused,” she said bluntly.

  “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” Fargo shifted back and brought up his left hand. He swiped his fingers over his wrist, and a hologram appeared over the flesh. He manipulated it for a moment, grabbing the data off the security officer’s panel until it saved a copy on his wrist device.

  He shifted back. “Organize me a transport to the Contracts Office.” Though he spoke to the security officer, he still watched me out of the corner of his eyes.

  I knew I was pale, I knew I was jumpy, and I knew I looked like a wreck.

  I was a wreck.

  “I want you to organize me a meeting with the primary contract chief in charge of betrothals. What’s his name again, F’xial or something?”

  “You haven’t heard?” The security officer’s usually hard expression softened.

  “Haven’t heard what? He hasn’t gone on holiday, has he?”

  “No, sir, he’s
dead.”

  “… When?”

  “Seven days ago.”

  “Cause?”

  “Natural.”

  “Bring up his file,” Fargo commanded.

  The security officer complied. A hologram appeared over her panel alongside scrolling text.

  The hologram depicted the very same alien who had delivered me my betrothal contract.

  I planted a hand over my mouth, pushing my sweaty fingers into my lips.

  Fargo darted his gaze toward me. “What?”

  I couldn’t shift my eyes off the slowly spinning hologram of that alien. “He’s the guy who served me my contract.”

  Fargo didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned right over the bench and swiped the image of F’xial, dumping it into his wrist device.

  He turned, saluted the security officer, then nodded to me. “Follow,” he said simply.

  I did.

  He led me forward through the crowd in the main building, then up several stories until we reached an office.

  It was expansive and had a great view over the city. It also had a spectacular view of the sky, and for a few seconds I stood there and watched as ships darted on by, their blue and red exhausts like shooting stars.

  There was an old style wooden desk on the far side of the room, facing the door, rather than the view.

  Fargo walked over to it and sat down, gesturing to a chair for me to sit too.

  I complied.

  I sat right on the edge of my seat, planting my hands on my lap and fumbling with my thumbs.

  “I want you to tell me everything, from the beginning.” He swiped his wrist device over an input panel on his desk, and soon a quick flashing array of holograms appeared over the sunken computer panel.

  Tell him everything?

  I’d been trying to tell people, but no one believed me.

  I had no idea what was happening, and worse than that, no idea who I was up against.

  Why would anyone want to steal my identity?

  Distractedly, I brought a hand up and palpated the implant just under my right ear.

  Fargo watched with interest.

  When my silence stretched on for too long, however, he interrupted with a cough.

  I snapped my gaze back to him. “I don’t know what’s going on,” I admitted truthfully.

  “Then start from the beginning, and let me figure it out.”

  It was a tempting offer, but it wouldn’t work.

  Somehow I knew I was on my own with this.

  Yet as soon as I entertained that thought, another leaped into my mind.

  I wasn’t alone. There was always Illuminate Hart.

  As soon as his name flashed before my consciousness, I practically balked.

  I hated that man. So what if he’d been instrumental in proving I was betrothed; he was still a brute.

  So I shouldn’t be thinking about him.

  I forced every thought of him back, and I focused on Fargo.

  …

  Captain Fargo

  I had other things to do. Far more important things.

  That sounded harsh but was true.

  The build up to an Illuminate wedding was one of the riskiest times in the universe. The universe could be plenty dangerous on its own, but whenever another was added to the Illuminate clan, it always dragged the worst from every star cluster and planet.

  Now more than ever I had to concentrate on the security of Cluster, and the Foundation as a whole.

  This earthling – whatever her troubles – was ultimately a distraction.

  So why wasn’t I palming this job off to somebody else?

  Sure, she’d been instrumental in helping to capture that Borgolian, but I didn’t owe her anything.

  Plus, the emotion locking me to my seat and tilting my head forward as I stared at her in interest wasn’t loyalty or a sense of being indebted. It was curiosity.

  As a captain in the Foundation Forces, I’d come across my fair share of curiosities. This universe was as mysterious as it was large.

  But why did this feel different? Why did this woman’s obvious confusion pluck at my heartstrings?

  She kept playing with her hands, rolling her thumbs around and around each other, the move jerky and nervous.

  She was clearly afraid. I didn’t need to access her active bio scans to see the terror ripping through her body.

  “Tell me everything,” I prompted once more.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” she admitted in a shaking tone as she tried to push her hair behind her ears.

  That’s when I noticed the tiny scar just underneath her left ear.

  It was small enough that she could have nicked herself with a nail. But was in the exact position where implants were usually embedded.

  I swallowed hard. “From the beginning,” I commanded.

  “I woke up three years ago. Three years and 14 days ago to be precise.”

  “Your implant says you woke up a little over one month ago,” I corrected.

  She shot me a distressed look, her wide, expressive eyes crumpling as her brow furrowed. “I know what my implant says. But it’s wrong. I remember every detail of the Institute on Earth. And I can tell you what happened to me over the past three years.”

  I glanced at one of the several floating holograms hovering over my input panel. It was her file, and it told me she hadn’t woken up on Earth at all; she’d woken up on a station.

  I brought two fingers up and pressed them into my brow.

  It would have been so easy to dismiss this woman.

  Easy, that is, if it weren’t for Illuminate Hart’s witness report.

  He’d seen her in the betrothal office, and what’s more, he’d seen her contract. He wouldn’t have been able to read her name on it; contracts contained long strings of gibberish that only meant something when you took it to the Identity Office. Still, she would only have been handed one if she were betrothed.

  He was quite possibly the only person who could corroborate her story – especially now F’xial was dead.

  When it came to witness reports, there was none more trustworthy than an Illuminate’s. Hart would have no reason to lie, so I had to count on the fact that this earthling – whoever she was – was betrothed.

  And someone had gone to great lengths to hide that.

  I pressed my two fingers even harder into my brow, not pulling back until I felt a stab of pain flash down my temple.

  “At first it was pretty hard,” she stuttered as she spoke, twiddling her thumbs faster and faster, “the future is… different to the past.”

  It was an obvious statement, but that would be denying the emotional import it had for the earthling. Her face stiffened as she spoke, her eyebrows peaking and her lips wobbling.

  I had a great deal of compassion for newfound ones. Especially those who were centuries old. This universe seemed to change every day, and it was hard to keep up with. It would be impossible for someone from that far into the past. “But Mark was there, and he helped.” Her moves became almost frantic now, her thumbs jamming into each other as she twisted them around and around.

  I leaned back, and I frowned. “Lieutenant Mark Havelock? The man you were with outside that bar?”

  She nodded. Her expression changed. It got a terrified edge, those expressive eyes flashing with fear. “Do you… you,” she pressed her lips closed and swallowed harshly, “do you know where he is?”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “I have no idea. He’s not under my command. I assumed he was visiting Cluster as part of a patrol. But hold on.” I quickly accessed my computer and found the information I needed. “According to this, he left a week ago.”

  I watched her blink. It was as if every muscle in her face was recruited to perform the action. Her lips shuddered open. “What? I don’t understand. Where did he go?”

  “Off world. As far as I know, he’s currently in the Scorpion cluster.”

  She looked terrified.

  “I assure
you, I can help you. You might feel more comfortable with Mark, but you can rely on the rest of us.”

  Her terror didn’t shift. In fact, it became sharper, like a piercing cry. “I saw him this morning.”

  My brow crumpled. “That’s impossible.”

  She shook her head, the move frantic, her hair trailing over her shoulders and bunching around her cheeks like a frame for those wide open, expressive eyes. “No, no,” she said in a firm tone, her hands coming to rest as she clutched them until her white knuckles pressed against her flesh. “I saw him this morning. I’ve seen him all week. He’s the one who took me to that strange hospital.”

  “Strange hospital?”

  “The place I’ve been trapped in for the past week. It was underground, in some kind of basement level. There was a city there.” She brought a hand up and pressed it flat into her brow.

  It would have been easy, so damn easy to dismiss what she was saying. In fact, that’s what my gut told me to do.

  So why was I leaning forward, clamping my hands on the desk, and looking at her with worried interest?

  “I don’t know what’s going on.” She pushed her fingers through her hair, but they got stuck.

  “You’re just confused,” I defaulted to saying.

  It was a mistake.

  I watched her shut down. Suspicion flared in her gaze.

  I realized people had been telling this woman she was confused for the past week.

  I shifted back in my chair and brought up a hand in a surrendering motion. “That’s not what I mean. Just take a breath, clear your mind, and continue your story.”

  She reacted badly to the word story.

  I watched her sit even further forward in her chair until she was balanced on the very edge of it. She pressed her lips together and darted her gaze to the left until she focused on some patch of the wall. “What’s the point? You don’t believe me. Nobody believes me.”

  “Miranda, I know this has been… a trying time for you, but please trust us.”

  “That’s what Mark was saying. Trust me.” She spoke with stiff movements of her lips. “And my name is not Miranda. It’s Anna, Anna Carter.”

  She wouldn’t look at me.

  It gave me the opportunity to stare at her unashamedly as I tried to assess her expression for any hint of manipulation.

  She didn’t look like she was acting, but she had to be.

  She was not Anna Carter.

  Anna Carter was now one of the most important people in the universe. As Illuminate Hart’s betrothed, she had to be protected above all others.

  And vetted. God knows she would have been vetted. The betrothed of an Illuminate is not picked up off the street. Every detail of their lives is checked and rechecked.

  A mistake cannot be made.

  The woman before me could not be Anna Carter.

  So why did she think she was?

  I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms.

  It was a defensive move, and though she was focusing her attention on the wall, her gaze twitched toward me.

  “You need to start telling the truth,” I said.

  “Really? Wouldn’t it be more convenient if I just started lying and agreeing with the story someone’s concocted for me?” Her voice broke with bitter emotion.

  “It’s an offense,” I began, “to knowingly divulge untruthful information to a member of the Foundation Forces.”

  She pressed her lips into a bitter line and didn’t look my way. “I hate this universe,” she said under her breath.

  My expression became stony. My gut reaction was to snap at her that she was ungrateful. This universe – this future – had woken her up and given her everything she now had.

  But I had not become a captain by going with my gut reaction.

  I was a man of reason, not passion.

  So I shifted forward. “I don’t know what’s going on. And I can appreciate that this is an extremely hard time for you. I don’t want to put you offside, and I apologize if I have. But please, tell me everything that happened to you. I can’t promise to believe you without evidence, but I can promise that if you disclose your story, I will look for evidence.”

  Slowly she pulled her gaze from the wall and walked her eyes toward me. It was as if she was waiting for me to lurch forward and snap at her.

  When I didn’t, I watched her take a small shallow breath. “Okay.”

  I nodded. “Perhaps you can start by telling me where your betrothal papers are? If we can find them, then we can go to the Contracts Office and verify your identity. Your true identity,” I emphasized to bring her onside.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Mark has my betrothal papers. I gave them to him. He said he was going to look into it for me. When I found out I was betrothed, I,” she shuddered, “I was terrified. I didn’t understand how something like that can happen in the future. I didn’t want to be betrothed. Mark said he could look into it for me, so I gave him the papers.”

  I didn’t say a word. I watched her. In fact, I recruited every one of my skills as I stared at her face and noted every micro movement.

  Was she lying?

  It simply didn’t look like it.

  “It is an offense to give your betrothal papers to somebody else,” I said quietly. Before she could withdraw, I added, “did you know that?” in a kind tone.

  She shook her head.

  “Did Mark tell you that?”

  She shook her head again. Then she shot me a terrified look. “Mark is… my friend. I don’t want him to get in trouble for this,” even as she spoke, I could tell she wasn’t sure of what she was saying. A great deal of confusion was flickering behind her large, saucer-like eyes.

  I didn’t say anything. “What did Mark promise to do exactly?”

  “He promised to make it all go away.”

  Again, I didn’t say anything.

  “He’s my friend,” she added suddenly in a conflicted tone.

  “You said you’ve seen him in the past week. What was he doing?”

  “Checking up on me. Like the doctors. It was like,” she started to tap her foot against her chair leg, “I don’t know, they were waiting for something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. The move was quick, and it was clear she was growing more emotionally fragile by the second. She jammed a well-chewed nail into her mouth. “I’ve been getting headaches,” she admitted in the quietest tone possible, her gaze quickly darting from me then down to her feet.

  There was a lie.

  Or if not a lie, then only a partial truth.

  She was clearly holding something back.

  She started to tap her foot against her chair leg faster and faster until it sounded like footsteps running toward me.

  “Have you had someone look at those headaches of yours?” I asked lightly, leaning forward and locking an elbow onto my desk as I rested my chin in my hand.

  She deliberately didn’t look at me.

  “If you want my full help, I need your full cooperation. You need to tell me everything, so I can look for the evidence that will corroborate your story.”

  She twitched. Then, with a shaking glance, she turned her attention toward me.

  She opened her mouth, and I got an electric sense of anticipation as I waited for her to tell me whatever she was holding back.

  She didn’t.

  Suddenly, she darted her eyes to the left, and she winced as if someone had struck her on the side of the face.

  “Are you alright?”

  Her eyes darted out of focus for a second, then she jerked her head around and forced a nod. “Fine.”

  “Maybe we should have someone look at your headache now.” I rose from behind my desk.

  “There won’t be time.” She stood up and turned toward the door.

  She turned toward the door several seconds before it open.

  My office was soundproof, and though I h
ad sensors that would alert me whenever anyone approached, they weren’t on.

  Before I could truly process what had just happened, a nervous looking security officer darted into the room. They didn’t bother to snap a salute, which was always a bad sign. “Sir, there’s been a terrorist attack in the lower quarter.”

  “What?” I felt my skin blanch as I darted around the side of my desk.

  “No casualty reports yet, but damage appears significant.”

  “What was the target?” I snap.

  “The place they were holding me,” Miranda said under her breath, her tone distant, and her gaze even more so.

  “Basement level 28, appears to be some kind of medical facility.”

  The hairs along the back of my neck stood on end, and I slid my gaze from the worried security officer over to Miranda.

  To be honest, I didn’t know if that was her name, but it was a good enough name to call her for now.

  She had a haunted expression on her face.

  It made my gut twitch with nerves.

  “Your presence is requested, sir.” The security officer tried to snap a salute, but it was hasty, and he dropped his hand fast.

  “Of course.” I didn’t rush out of the room. Instead, I turned and pointed to Miranda. “Take her to a room. A secure room,” I added.

  The security officer jerked his gaze over to Miranda. “We can put her in the holding cell.”

  “No,” I snapped quickly, “she’s not a prisoner. She needs protection. I want her on one of the upper levels, and I want a guard outside her door. Got it?”

  The security officer nodded.

  I turned back to Miranda.

  She wasn’t looking at me. Instead, her head was turned toward the view, her eyebrows pressed low over her searching gaze.

  For a few seconds, I watched nervously.

  Something had changed in the past few minutes. When I’d first brought this woman in, I’d wanted to dismiss her story.

  Now I was more determined than ever to find out what was going on.

  As soon as I was back, I would find out everything I could about her.

  I hurried out of the room, pausing at the threshold of the door to glance back at her one last time.

  I’d never seen someone look more conflicted. She brought a hand up and placed it over the left side of her face as she stared with peaked eyebrows and worry filled eyes at the city below her.

  Then, almost with a violent twitch, her gaze shifted and locked onto the tallest tower of the horizon. The Illuminate pillar.

  I forced myself to turn and leave.

  I would solve this on my return.