Chapter 1
“Try again, fail again. Fail better.” - Samuel Beckett
OZ
Air hissed from the mask when Oz ripped it off his face. One of the computron assistants reached toward him, but he waved aside the synthetic. He’d never asked where Hatch had acquired them, and he didn’t plan to change it today. What he didn’t know he couldn’t be forced to testify to, or so the pirate often told him.
Ejecting from the construct hurt every single time. Andreas had been right behind him, but the priest acclimated slower during injection and exfil. Across the room, Hatch slid off his medbay bed and staggered over to the showers. His coughing indicated his lungs hadn’t adapted to the freedom of pure oxygen, but Oz only shook his head.
“Attend to Benedict,” he ordered the synthetic trying to check his own vitals. His own haggard expression shown back at him from the mirrored surface metal as the assistant nodded. It would follow Hatch into the showers, and pick his sorry ass up if he collapsed in there.
Shoving off the bed, Oz headed to Dirk’s medbed. The captain lingered, and his vitals were all over the place. Dammit. The man never ejected until the last possible moment, not that Oz could blame him. None of them ever wanted to leave her, especially when they knew she couldn’t follow them out, and all the progress they might have made would be lost to the reset.
Andreas released a groan. A timer on the wall ticked down ominously. In a moment, everything would reset. “C’mon, man.” Oz stared at the digital readout, even as he prepared the injection. Twice now, Dirk had emerged nearly psychotic from waiting too long to eject. It had cost them a month previously after he broke Oz’s arm and dislocated Andreas’ knee. If Hatch hadn’t shot him, they might have lost everything that day.
“Ten seconds,” Andreas groaned, and the hiss of air accompanied his release of the oxygen mask.
“He’ll do it.” Hatch’s weary voice echoed from inside the tiled bathroom where he’d paused at the entrance. Oz didn’t waste time responding to either of them, he was just glad they were with him.
The only one allowed inside the Hexagon while they were injected was the assistant.
“Five seconds.”
For once, Oz wished Andreas would just shut up. The assistant’s footfalls echoed across the room in time with the countdown.
Dirk’s eyes jerked open at the one-second mark, and though his pupils were fatly dilated, awareness filled in rapidly. Oz blew out a breath, but kept the sedative ready. His men outside would be alerted to the return of their leader. A whole unit, prepared to follow him into fire, secured Valda’s facility while the four of them worked to retrieve her from the coma.
“Alert, mental reset commencing. Twenty-four hours until safe injection.” The impersonal nature of the system’s computer didn’t alleviate the stress of knowing that for the next twenty-four hours, no matter what happened—Valda was alone.
Dirk blinked once, then twice. Gradually, his pupils shrunk from the size of saucers. He zeroed his gaze onto Oz’s, then gave him a hand trembling thumbs up. Psychotic episode averted, Doctor Oz could stand down and let his friend out. He nodded and stowed the sedative before walking to the window separating them from the enhancement chamber.
Inside the clean room, Valda Bashan slept as if unaware of everything that transpired during their last construct over the last few weeks. They’d had to leave her behind, still trapped in her coma. Five years and all they had to show for it was failure.
One failure after another.
Hatch joined him, still dripping from the shower. With white knuckles, he braced himself against the railing and stared into the room. “Positive cycle.” A new construct was underway. They could all read the monitors, but Hatch had appointed himself in charge of the equipment he’d brought in. The man might very well be a rogue, but he was also a hell of an engineer. “In an hour, we’ll see the scenario she’s chosen.”
They could program in all they liked, but for the construct to take—Valda herself had to accept it. If she pushed too hard or doubted too much, the construct itself would begin to collapse. That had been the source of numerous problems in the beginning. They’d just wanted to program in the information so she could follow the breadcrumbs right out of the medical sleep.
Those constructs collapsed like a house of cards. Every. Single. Time.
“She lasted longer with the truth this time.” Even when they made it to injection on her positive cycles, there was never a guarantee they’d make it long enough to soften the blow of the truth.
“It happens,” Oz reminded him. Hatch had jettisoned, as they all did periodically, to see to her physical body. She had to be washed, exercised, her muscles massaged, her nutrition feed checked, and vitamin infusions delivered. Saving her mind was their priority, but keeping her body intact was vital to assuring she had a place to return.
“I should have told someone I was going to bounce early.” Hatch’s hand tightened, and the bands along his knuckles stretched taut. “I thought I had enough time to jet, take care of her, then inject.”
Oz agreed. Had it been any one of the other mornings, he would have been right. Before, Valda ignored them while she worked. They had to coax her to come out—then she made a change in habit.
“It happens,” he repeated the earlier sentiment. “We’ll learn. We’ll adapt. We’ll do it better.”
The slam of a door behind them pulled both of their attention. Dirk sat on the edge of his medbed, but Andreas was gone. Dammit. The priest took their failures personally.
Every.
Damn.
Time.
“I’ll…” Hatch began, but Oz shook his head.
“You have to monitor the positive cycle.” Not that he could do anything if it collapsed, but the clock reset each time. “I’ll take care of Andreas. We’ll be back soon.”
They would need to plan their next injection carefully, but Oz understood Andreas even better than he did the soldier and the pirate. The priest wore the mantle for everything wrong around his shoulders. He would let it choke him to death if they allowed it.
“Take care of Dirk.” He clapped the other man on the shoulder, and said, “And towel off. You’re dripping everywhere.”
Hatch laughed, and Oz took one last look at their woman before he followed Andreas out of the Hexagon. She looked so small amidst all the machines. Every year, she seemed to fade more, until all that was left was the framework of the bright and bold spirit housed within.
We’re coming. Hang on for us.
It took effort to force himself to walk out. They’d all learned how to struggle with the waiting, whether it was pre or post injection. Patience was the only armor they had in the fight to free her.
Dammit, it would work. One way or another.
DIRK
With ten minutes to go for the report on Valda’s chosen construct, Dirk stood in the center of his office. Compound security reported to his men, and his men secured the residence. A dozen members of a highly trained spec op force referred to the compound as a beach vacation. The world, however, continued to orbit beyond their trapped existence.
“Sit rep.” If he didn’t trust these men, they wouldn’t be here. He’d bled for them, and they would bleed for him. They had a very specific set of orders when he was under—first and foremost, protect Valda and her installation.