Rachel the Warrior

Part Five

by G. Lawrence

A hazardous mission

Recap; Rachel has been approached by General Taylor. Nomad terrorists are attempting to seize control of a nuclear-armed space platform, and only Rachel might be able to stop them.

* * * * * *

Chapter Nine

A FAREWELL PARTY

"Am I being selfish?" Rachel asked, alone with McLane in the empty corridor.

"Missy, if this is what you need, you should have it," McLane answered.

"Thank you for not trying to stop me. I know it's been hard."

"Don't be fooled. I'd stop you if I could."

Rachel adjusted her NASA jumpsuit, powder blue with red stripes down the sides. She wore black boots. Her freshly washed hair hung to her shoulders.

"Is my makeup okay?" she asked.

"You look great," McLane replied, opening the door.

The Officer's Club had been reserved for the private party. General Taylor officiated while Captain Mike Martin played bartender. The large room had green leather booths, flags, banners, and a piano. Deli snacks were arranged on the side tables. Rachel found Pamela, Rory, Sheila, William and Samantha on one side of the room. Walsh, Virginia, Eric and Kevin on the other. Tom lingered in the back, by himself. They seemed surprised by her uniform.

"Look, everybody, I'm an astronaut," Rachel said, waving her hands. "They're going to let me fly a spaceship, and I don't even have a driver's license."

"A spaceship?" Rory said.

"It's a secret mission. Don't tell anybody," Rachel responded lightheartedly.

"Very secret," General Taylor said. "Ladies and gentlemen, Rachel has generously offered to help us with an important mission. We're very grateful to her. Please enjoy the facilities. Let me know if you need anything."

Taylor retired to a stool behind the bar. Tom rushed forward to take Rachel's hands.

"What's this all about?" he asked.

"One of the space stations has a technical glitch," Rachel said. "They need someone with special skills to fix it."

"Why you?" Tom pressed.

"I volunteered," Rachel answered. "It will be exciting."

"Don't they have real astronauts for that?" Rory asked.

"I am a real astronaut, Ro. I have training and everything," Rachel said. "We only have a few hours. Let's eat, and drink, and have fun. I want dancing."

Pamela came forward, inspected the uniform, and looked into Rachel's eyes.

"Honey, is this something you really want to do?" Pamela asked.

"It's important work," Rachel replied. "Sheba, I'm so glad you were able to come. We need to talk later."

"I always have time for my favorite cousin," Sheila said. "You're very impressive in that outfit. Are you really going into outer space?"

"Really going," Rachel confirmed, staying upbeat. No one seemed to be catching on, which made her feel better.

The Harpers were hanging back. Rachel wasn't pleased there was so much distance between Tom and his family.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Harper. I'm so glad you could come to my party," Rachel greeted. "Hi, Eric. Hi, Kevin. Have you been here before?"

"No," Eric said, glancing at General Taylor. "The Executive Club is rarified air."

"Don't be afraid of the general, he won't make you re-up," Rachel laughed. "Want a drink?"

The crowd gradually moved toward the bar, forcing them to stand closer together. Rachel went to Tom.

"What's wrong, lover? Don't you Navy guys like the army?" she asked.

"I'm not happy about this astronaut business. It's dangerous," Tom replied.

"The Reserve still calls you back for missions. Some of those are dangerous."

"I spent ten years in the navy. It was my job, and I'm good at it."

"And I'm just a girl? A skinny little girl?" Rachel said, sliding up against him. And then she stared with big brown eyes. "A skinny, sexy little girl?"

"You are that," he answered with a smile, pulling her into his arms for a kiss.

"They're giving me a private room tonight," she whispered. "The Presidential Suite. I'm allowed to have company."

"Am I invited?" he asked.

"Yes, but I'm the guest of honor."

Rachel went to the bar where Captain Martin was mixing old-fashions using Irish whiskies. He seemed a pleasant young officer, tall and clean-cut. Likely chosen for being discreet.

"Hi, Eric," Rory said, going to shake hands.

"It's good to see you again, Ro," Eric replied. "Sorry we haven't been in contact lately."

"Things happen. You know, not all of my girlfriends are gay. If you make it out to Los Angeles again, I'll set you up," Rory offered.

"That sounds like fun," Eric agreed.

"Have you met my cousin? Sheba? She's the CEO of World Health Database," Rory introduced, waving Sheila over.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Marbury," Eric said. "I've seen you on TV."

"Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Harper. Rory talks about you all the time," Sheila replied, finding the broad-shouldered young man attractive. Even if he was eight years her junior. Eric gave her a second look. The famous WHD chieftain was striking, with short black hair, diamond earrings, and eyes like a panther.

"This is my mother, Virginia," Eric said, continuing introductions. "And my slightly older brother, Kevin. And that's my father, Walsh."

Sheila shook Virginia's hand and gave Kevin a warm smile. She ignored Walsh.

"I'm sorry to ask, Eric," Rory softly questioned, "but why is your father here? I can't imagine Rachel inviting him."

"Well, she did," Walsh said, intruding on the conversation.

"Excuse me, Eric. I don't want to be rude," Rory said, turning away.

"Go ahead and be rude," Walsh dared.

Rory turned back with a flare in her green eyes. Clearly she had something to say. Then she noticed Rachel standing behind the bar next to General Taylor, watching from a distance. Rory declined the challenge.

"Everybody, I know this is tough," Kevin said. "Maybe we should get it out in the open?"

"In deference to Eric and your mother, I can't say what I really think," Rory replied.

"I can," Sheila said, stepping up.

"Say your piece, young lady," Walsh dared.

"So here it is, Mr. Harper," Sheila responded. "Rachel is the smartest, sweetest, most giving woman I've ever known. I love her like a sister. And you treated her like dirt. Anyone who is okay with that isn't okay with me."

Sheila stared at Walsh for his reaction. She clearly wasn't the shy scientist Rachel was. Walsh turned and walked away. Virginia offered a look of apology and followed.

"I love my dad, and I can't claim to understand what this is about," Eric said. "But I'm with Tom. He loves Rachel, and that means I love her, too."

"Count me in," Kevin agreed. "Though if Rachel dumps Tommy, I'm next in line to marry her."

"I saw Rachel before you did," Eric objected, giving his brother a shove.

"I'm better-looking," Kevin insisted, pushing back.

"I'm smarter," Eric declared.

"I'm bigger," Kevin threatened.

"Okay, I see where this is going," Sheila praised, taking Eric's arm. "I think I'm going to like you boys."

"Eric, I don't think you've met my younger brother, Bill Benson, and his lovely bride, Samantha," Rory said. "Billy is designing boats these days. Sam is getting a graduate degree in marine biology."

The younger Bensons and Harpers shook hands. Everyone seemed relieved for a break in the tension.

"Is this your work?" General Taylor whispered to Rachel.

"What do you mean, sir?" she quietly answered.

"Trapping hostile forces in a small place where they're forced to confront each other?"

"I'm not good at these personal relationship things, but even I know there's going to be damage left behind. They need to resolve these issues now. Before it's too late. It will make the grieving easier."

"I'm sorry for getting you involved. I hope you know that."

"Frank, I knew this was coming before you did. I hoped the math would change, but it rarely does."

"If I can help change the math, you'll let me know, won't you?"

"That all depends, sir. In the meantime, this is still my party."

Rachel adjusted her collar, straightened her shoulders, and rushed out on the main floor.

"That's one gutsy little girl," Captain Martin said in a hushed tone.

"One gutsy little woman," Taylor corrected.

"Hey, everybody, want to hear about my astronaut training?" Rachel said. "Mr. Harper helped, and dozens of others. They have big testing machines and all kinds of fancy equipment. I did great on the tests. Didn't I, General?"

"You sure did, Miss Marbury," General Taylor agreed. "Everyone was impressed. Weren't we, Walsh?"

"No one could have done better," Walsh conceded.

"Isn't this a wonderful suit?" Rachel said, going to Virginia and her sons. "I get to keep it after the mission. Look, it has a NASA patch and everything."

"Very professional, dear," Virginia complimented. "You're a regular Sally Ride."

"You look great," Eric chimed in.

"Rory is in town for a few days," Rachel mentioned. "Will you take her out on the town again? Didn't you have fun the last time?"

"I'd be happy to," Eric replied, offering Rory a smile.

McLane began playing a soft, jazzy tune on the piano. Rachel grabbed William's arm, pulling him out on the dance floor.

"Enjoying married life?" Rachel asked.

"It's great. Just like you said it would be," William replied.

"I'm very proud of you. I hope you know that," Rachel said.

"Everything I've become is because of you," William insisted. "You turned my life around."

"It wasn't hard. Sam, where are you? Get over here," Rachel coaxed, drawing her sister-in-law out on the floor. "Any plans for the baby shower?"

"No. So much has been going on," Samantha said.

"Can't keep putting it off. Babies don't wait for tardy parents," Rachel warned. "Thomas! Why aren't we dancing? Bobby, pick up the pace!"

McLane played a faster tune as Tom joined in. Rory danced with Kevin while Eric danced with Sheila. Virginia drew Pamela to a table where the mothers could talk. Once the party was finally going, Rachel withdrew to a bench in the corner, taking Sheila with her.

"Having fun?" Rachel asked.

"It's different," Sheila cautiously answered.

"Have a moment for business?"

"Always. For you."

"This is important, but I don't want to overstep," Rachel worried.

"What do you need, honey?"

"I know the business journals call you a shark. Even Daniel thought you were aggressive. I've felt that sometimes, too. But you've always been loyal to me. My shark. I need you now more than ever."

"Rach, what are you talking about?"

"This is my Last Will and Testament. I've named you my executor, if that's okay?"

Rachel reached into her pocket, taking out a thick envelope, and looked at her with a hopeful expression.

"Of course. Sure, honey," Sheila agreed.

"Little Daniel and Thomas are my beneficiaries. My accountant says I'm worth about two billion dollars."

"With your patents, it will be more than that."

"Danny and Tom don't need that much money. A hundred million will be plenty. There's money for Martha, Jackie McLane, Mr. McLane, and his daughters. Some of my friends in Ketchum and Juniper Springs, too. But there will be lots of money left over. People will fight over it. You'll need to be firm."

"Rachel, what's this all about?"

"Space travel is hazardous."

"No, it's more than that. I know you. You wouldn't be talking like this unless something was wrong."

"Let's not speak about that. Not tonight. For the rest of the money, I want you to do good-guy stuff with it. Scholarships for lost kids, like I was. Experimental treatments to fight diseases. I always wanted a puppy, but couldn't take care of one. Help animals, too."

"Rach--"

"Sheba, I know putting this on you is unfair, but you've always been my rock. I love Mother, and Rory, and William, but when the chips are down, I need you to be there for me. I know everything will be okay if you're in charge."

Sheila leaned back, studying her friend. When she finally realized what Rachel was saying, she struggled for composure.

"From that first day at Canby Place, when you put your faith in me, I've felt transformed," Sheila confided. "You don't just change lives, you change worlds. I'm so grateful to be a special part of that. Don't worry, I'll build the legacy you want."

"Thank you so much. And please, be kind to Mother. I know it's hard. There's difficult history there, but she's more sensitive than people think. Change is hard for her."

"Pammy and I were close before I took up with Daniel. I'll find a way to get that back."

Rachel acknowledged her with a nod, but no tears. Which had Sheila worried. Rachel noticed and smiled. "Come on, this is a party," she said, drawing Sheila up.

McLane stayed at the piano, observing but not participating. Rachel spent more time with Samantha and William, then Eric and Kevin. She even spent a few minutes with Virginia, making small talk before getting back to Pamela. She didn't deliberately avoid Walsh, but made no effort to speak with him either.

"Come on everybody, drink up," Rachel urged. "NASA is paying for all of this. Mother, you aren't dancing. Get over here. Rory, dance with my boyfriend."

Soon all the ladies were on the dance floor. Walsh fell back toward the bar next to General Taylor, watching as Rachel switched partners, dancing with Tom, and then Kevin, and then Eric. She looked out of breath.

"This is all a big joke to her, isn't it?" Walsh grumbled.

"What?" Taylor asked.

"This spectacle. Dancing. Singing. Getting drunk."

"You know, Walsh, you really are a fucking idiot," Taylor grumbled.

"Where is that coming from?"

"It's her farewell. Who are you to judge?"

"Farewell? She'll be back in seven days, bragging how she rescued the ISS."

"She's not coming back."

"What are you talking about?"

"Rachel isn't going to the space station. She's going to HEO-6. Trying to retake control from Nomad, but nobody thinks that's possible. McKay's mission is to evacuate the crew. Rachel will be staying behind to initiate the self-destruct."

"You're not making any sense, Frank."

"Goddamn it, Walsh. Once Nomad has control of the platform, they'll launch the goddamn missiles. Six Cheetah A5000 tri-boosters with eighteen multiple vicinity warheads. They'll take out Washington. New York. Berlin. Tokyo. Our team can only block the launch sequences for so long. When the time runs out, Rachel will activate the failsafe to destroy the platform."

"No one told me about this. No one told my staff."

"Need-to-know only. Even McKay doesn't know the score. How are we supposed to tell the world we're sending Rachel Montgomery on a suicide mission? How do we tell her family?"

Walsh looked again at the young woman dancing gaily with his sons. He saw her more clearly now. There was anxiety there. A forced merriment.

"Don't let her do it," Walsh said.

"We've got no choice. Nomad has targeted millions of people, and we don't know any other way to stop them. Even Rachel hasn't found a way."

"How long has she known?"

"From day one. That woman is no fool."

"My boy is in love with her. Crazy in love."

"That's why she doesn't want him to know. Not any of them. Except McLane. She wants a goodbye party, not a wake."

"I can't let you do this."

"It's not up to me. And be careful what you say, unless twenty years in a military prison for violating national security appeals to you."

Walsh studied the room, paying extra attention to McLane. He was keeping an eye on Rachel under a bent brow. Devoted but unobtrusive. Worried. Sad. Sheila Marbury seemed to know something. She looked upset. Pamela Benson appeared nervous but unsure. Tom was being brave, unhappy about the space flight without knowing the implications.

"Sorry, Frank, this isn't going to happen. Find another way," Walsh said. He walked out on the dance floor, grabbed Rachel by the arm, and pulled her to a corner. When he saw everyone watching, he took her out into the hall and closed the door.

"Call this off," Walsh said.

"What are you talking about, sir?" Rachel replied.

"The mission. Taylor told me everything."

"Then you know why the mission needs to proceed."

"Taylor says you're not coming back."

"The math isn't good," Rachel conceded.

"That's all you've got? The math isn't good? My son is in love with you."

"I'm a creature of duty, Mr. Harper."

"No duty requires this."

"Weren't you in the service?"

"Yes."

"Were you sent into combat?"

"I was."

"And what did you say? You can't go because you have a girlfriend?"

"This isn't the same."

"If there was someone better qualified, I'd advise the army to recruit them. But there isn't. I'm not even sure it will work. Nomad may still launch the missiles, and this will all be for nothing."

"Then find another way."

"I won't give up. If there's a way to come back, I will."

"Damn it, girl, you're not listening," Walsh said, taking hold of her arms. "You can't do this. You can't."

And then something very strange happened. She was staring at him, her gaze focused. She straightened her shoulders, the hair pushed back. Walsh found himself under an intense examination, a sensation so strong it had a physical presence. It only lasted a moment. His breath was short. He felt drained. Had her eyes changed color?

"You're a good man, Mr. Harper. But you need to grow up," Rachel said.

"I'm not talking you out of this, am I?"

"That was never going to happen, sir. Luke 17:10."

"Not everyone knows the Bible as well as you do."

"I think that's for the best," Rachel sighed.

"Help me understand. Please."

"You already don't like me. You'd like me even less."

"That's not true."

Rachel sat on the floor, wishing she'd brought a drink with her. Walsh knelt next to her.

"My father was a cruel man. There was no family there. During my teenage years, none of the foster parents wanted a troublesome mentally ill girl in their home. During my year in high school, I worked part-time. I had no time for friends, even if I knew how to make one. At Harvard, all my focus went into my studies. Friends, family, love, these are all confusing to me. At one point or another, I've failed at all of them. But I know how to give everything for a project, and this one is vital. I'm not confused about that."

"You've got it backwards, young lady," Walsh said. "I see the people around you. I see my son around you. You are deeply loved."

"That doesn't mean I know how to love them back. Most of the time, I'm only guessing."

"Rachel, we all do that. It's not a defect. It's human."

"I want what's best for them. I want the best possible world for my son," Rachel explained. "It's not the world Nomad wants. Do you know another way to stop them?"

"No, I don't."

"They need to be stopped, sir. And if losing one crazy damaged girl is what it takes, then that's the price that will be paid. I've done the math."

"I wish you'd stop saying that," Walsh complained.

"I'm missing my party. Go back inside. I'll be along in a moment."

Walsh stood up, feeling older, and helped Rachel to her feet. She seemed so small. So vulnerable. He wanted to give her a hug, but assumed he'd be pushed away. She turned, going down the hall in the other direction.

The Officer's Club was quiet when he reentered. Everyone was looking.

"Nothing bad happened," Walsh said. "I think she went to use the ladies' room."

"I'll go check on her," Rory said, rushing out. Walsh went to the bar.

"Old Fitzgerald on the rocks," Walsh requested.

Martin poured the whiskey. Taylor said nothing. Walsh motioned for a second glass and went looking for Pamela.

"I would like to speak with Mrs. Benson alone," Walsh requested. "The rest of you, go back to what you were doing. You don't want Rachel returning to a funeral, do you?"

Walsh took Pamela to a booth in the corner. As they sat, Walsh kept one glass for himself and put the other in front of Pamela.

"We haven't had much chance to talk," he started.

"I hear you don't like us rich California types," Pamela said. "Even ones who pull themselves up from nothing by their bootstraps."

"I'm sorry about that. Sometimes perceptions stick in our heads."

"What's sticking in your head now?"

"That I wish someone had given me a hard slap when I needed it."

"My daughter Rory will happily oblige you."

"I've gotten my slap, thank you."

"What is it you want, Mr. Harper?" Pamela asked. Walsh looked over at his oldest son.

"I screwed up, and for the sake of both our families, I need to make it right."

"What did Rachel say to you?"

"She said I need to grow up."

"Sounds like good advice."

"We can't leave it like this. How can I get her to forgive me?"

"Did you ask for forgiveness?" Pamela asked.

"No. I didn't think there was a chance of that."

"Do you even want her forgiveness?"

"That's a fair question. I want her forgiveness. I didn't see her. The real Rachel. Only what the media was saying. A bunch of goddamn bloodsuckers with no clue what they were talking about. That's on me."

Pamela picked up the whiskey to take a sip.

"When Rachel and I first met, I was horrible to her. Worse than you could ever be. After Rory set me straight, I visited Rachel in her sickbed, apologized, and asked her to forgive me. Which she did. You have no idea how much love is in her heart trying to get out. Ask her, Walsh. Be plain, simple, and direct. But don't try to deceive her because she'll see right through it."

"Will that square it with us? With your family?"

"If Rachel is okay with you, you're okay with us. Those are her rules."

They returned to the party. Virginia seemed pleased that her husband and Rachel's mother were on speaking terms. A few minutes later, there was a surprise.

"What is that?" Kevin said, pointing to the door.

Rachel entered wearing an olive drab army uniform with a khaki skirt and brown leather oxfords. Shoulder straps indicated her rank. Everyone paused, astonished. She marched up to General Taylor and saluted.

"Captain Rachel Marbury reporting for duty, sir," Rachel said.

"You look splendid, Captain," Taylor replied, returning the salute.

"Thank you for allowing this," she said.

"It's the least we can do," Taylor assured her.

Rachel saluted again and went to show her family, turning back and forth displaying what a good fit it was. She was all smiles. Martin slipped close to Taylor.

"She enlisted?" Martin asked.

"Volunteer assignment," Taylor replied. "If she's killed, she wants to be buried at Arlington, so her son will be proud of her. If there's no body, she wants a plaque with a flag on it."

Martin made a drink for himself.

"Our ranks may not be equivalent now, Lieutenant Commander," Rachel said to Tom. "But if my mission is successful, I might get a promotion."

"I'll gladly obey your orders," Tom agreed.

"What do you think, Mother? Your daughter is in the army," Rachel bragged.

"You'll be a general in a week, dear," Pamela answered.

"Mrs. Harper?" Rachel said, dancing up to Virginia.

"You wear the uniform better than my sons," Virginia complimented. Rachel stopped before Walsh, waiting.

"You honor the service," Walsh said, offering a gracious nod.

"That makes this easier," Rachel said, going back to Taylor and standing at attention.

"General Taylor, sir! Permission to marry my boyfriend," she said with a salute.

"Permission granted, Captain," Taylor approved.

Rachel waved to the door behind the bar. A minister in a black gown appeared, carrying a Bible.

"Reverend Truman?" Virginia asked in surprise, recognizing their church pastor.

"How about it, Thomas? Will you marry me? Will you?" Rachel said, standing before him. "Right now. In front of our families."

Though caught off-guard, there was no hesitation.

"Yes, Rachel. I want to marry you. Right now," Tom replied.

Rachel rose on her toes for a kiss.

"Okay, this is how it works," Rachel said. "Eric, you stand over there. You're the best man. Ro, Sheba, Sam, you're over here. My bridesmaids. William, pull those chairs up for Mom and Tom's parents. General Taylor, you sit with them. Kevin, can you play the piano for us? Do you know "Here Comes the Bride'?"

"I can do that," Kevin agreed.

"Mr. McLane," Rachel said, dipping her head shyly. "Will you walk me down the aisle?"

"I'd be proud to, Missy," McLane said, struggling for control.

"Good! Let's do this!" Rachel exclaimed, running to the back of the room to prepare herself.

Flowers appeared, Martin and several aides bringing them in. Pamela, Virginia, and Walsh briefly spoke with Reverend Truman, learning Rachel had planned the event days in advance. The pastor even had the marriage certificate.

"Your daughter sure is full of surprises," Virginia remarked.

"You've got no idea," Pamela said.

The crowd organized themselves and Kevin began playing the wedding march. McLane escorted Rachel through the meager rows of chairs, stopping before the reverend. McLane was grim. If Walsh had any doubts about how close they were, he understood everything now. Rachel was excited, her eyes bright.

Rachel and Tom stood gazing at each other. Eric suddenly realized he didn't have a ring, patting his pockets. Rory reached across, handing him a box. It held a vintage gold wedding band.

"This belongs to our Aunt Hattie," Rory explained. "She wants Rach to have it."

"Simple and modest. It's perfect," Eric said.

"I'm instructed by the bride to make this brief," Reverend Truman announced, taking a deep breath. "We are gathered here, in the sight of God, to wed this man and this woman in the holy bonds of matrimony. This is a blessed estate not to be undertaken lightly. If there is any man here who may show cause why they may not be lawfully joined, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

All eyes turned to Walsh. He didn't react.

"Thomas Woodson Harper, will you have this woman to honor and love her, in all faith and tenderness, to live with her, and cherish her, in joy and sorrow, in sickness and health, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Tom said, squeezing her hands.

"Rachel Lajune Marbury, will you have this man to honor and love him in all faith and tenderness, to live with him, and cherish him, in joy and sorrow, in sickness and health, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do. For now and forever," Rachel replied.

"Then by the power invested in me by the State of Texas and the holy ordinance of God, I pronounce you man and wife. Who God has joined together, let no man put asunder. You may kiss the bride."

Rachel was on her toes, Tom lifting her up. There was applause and some sniffling.

"I'm finally yours, Mr. Harper," Rachel whispered.

"And you always will be, Mrs. Harper," Tom answered.

Pamela and Virginia held hands. Walsh lowered his head, suppressing a desire to say something.

"Welcome to the family, Rachel," Eric greeted, giving his new sister-in-law a hug.

"Hi, sis," Kevin added, going next.

"I'm so happy for you. For both of you," Virginia said, squeezing Rachel's shoulders.

"Thank you, Mrs. Harper," Rachel responded.

"Please, call me Mom," Virginia urged.

"Thank you, Mom," Rachel complied.

Pamela, Rory, William and Samantha moved in to offer congratulations, followed by Sheila. McLane shook the couple's hands. Walsh was hanging back.

"I'm sorry if you're disappointed, Mr. Harper," Rachel suggested.

"No, don't say that. Don't think that," Walsh pleaded. He stepped forward sheepishly, looking down into Rachal's cautious expression. "I was very wrong. About everything. It's no one's fault but my own. I'm proud of you, and my son. I'm proud of both of you. Can you forgive me? Please?"

The room was quiet. Expectant. Rachel studied the plaintive eyes, sensing sincerity.

"Of course, sir," she agreed.

"Can you call me Dad?" Walsh requested, opening his arms. Rachel stepped up for a hug, squeezing hard.

"Okay, we still have a little more time," Rachel announced, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "The men need more drinks. Go to the bar. Tom, brag how you're going to make me beg for more on our wedding night. Because I will. Ladies, let's retire to the piano. General Taylor will bring us refreshments. Won't you, General?"

"Yes, Captain. Coming up," Taylor agreed.

As the men departed, Rachel climbed up on the piano, dangling bare feet, while Samantha tapped out a tune.

"What did you think, Mother?" Rachel asked.

"It was lovely, Rachel," Pamela said. "But not the big wedding we were hoping for."

"God willing, there will be another one," Rachel replied as Taylor approached with a bottle of champagne and tray of glasses. He did the pouring.

"What are you thinking? For the next time," Rory said.

"Something grand. Maybe here, in Houston. In an old church. We can rent a hall for the reception, can't we? And have dancing?"

"Of course, dear," Pamela assured her.

"We'll have a hundred guests, and I'll wear a white dress. There will be lots of flowers," Rachel fondly continued. "The next time Mr. McLane walks me down the aisle, his daughters can be bridesmaids. Little Danny and the other children will be there, all dressed up. Samantha will have her baby by then. He'll be so cute. It will be perfect."

Taylor couldn't take it anymore. He finished filling their glasses and retreated.

"Tom and I have a special room tonight," Rachel said. "But the launch site is secret, so I'll need to leave early in the morning."

"You still haven't explained that," Samantha mentioned.

"It's all very hush-hush," Rachel answered. "Everyone will know about it later, after the mission is completed."

"You'll be careful, won't you?" Rory asked.

"I've had good training," Rachel replied.

Virginia was quiet, trying to remember bits and pieces of what Walsh had said. Usually while complaining. She took a closer look at Rachel, wondering if she was telling the whole story.

"Before planning more weddings, we need to schedule Sam's baby shower," Rachel said. "There are birthdays coming up, too. It's going to be a busy summer."

At the bar, Tom was receiving congratulations while being teased by his brothers. Taylor returned, tossed the tray down, and poured a scotch on the rocks. He glanced at Walsh, back at the ladies, and gulped his drink.

"Something wrong, sir?" Tom asked.

Taylor wanted to blurt everything out but knew he couldn't. It wasn't what Rachel wanted. Walsh sensed the strong emotions, feeling angry. He wasn't allowed to express anything either.

"I hate to rush this, but you only have about nine hours left," Taylor advised. "The VIP Suite is in the north wing. We'll need to fetch Rachel at 0800. She's headed for a secure facility."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you for making all of this possible," Tom said, circulating for a final round of handshakes.

Rachel was saying her farewells, too. She wished there'd been time for a first dance. And a cake. Speeches. And many other things. It couldn't be helped. She had what she wanted most.

* * * * * *

Chapter Ten

LAUNCHING THE ROCKETS

As the Officer's Club was being cleared, Rachel drew Pamela into an alcove, motioning for Rory and Samantha to move on.

"We only have a minute, and I'm sorry about that," Rachel whispered.

"You have something more to tell me, don't you?" Pamela said.

"Yes. I've never lied to you. Not on purpose. But I don't always tell you everything, either."

"What do you want to tell me now?"

"The mission is more dangerous than I let on. If something happens, I want you to know how much I love you. You made my life so special."

"Dear, I've seen how General Taylor is acting. And Walsh. And the staff. Something is bothering Sheila, and Virginia. This isn't a surprise. And I know you wouldn't be taking any chances if you didn't have to. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Then listen to me carefully," Pamela said, taking hold of Rachel's arms. "You are the smartest, bravest woman I've ever known. Nothing can defeat you when you set your mind to something. Nothing. So don't worry about me, or Danny, or Tom. Don't worry about any of us. We'll be fine. Do what you need to do, and come home to us."

"Thank you, Mother. Thank you so much," Rachel said, hugging her tightly. "I want to come back. I'll do everything I can. I promise."

"And you never break a promise, do you?"

"No, I never break a promise."

They shared a last moment. Taylor walked up just as Pamela was departing.

"Mission accomplished?" Taylor asked.

"Sir?"

"You were working hard tonight. Getting the families together. Getting Walsh back with his son. Making sure no hard feelings were left behind."

"Loss can be difficult. I've never been good at it. For years when things got tough, I just ran away. But I can't do that anymore. I have a family now."

"How did your mother take it?"

"She couldn't say how she really felt. She thinks staying strong will make me strong."

"Does it?"

"Yes. She wanted to cry just now. To beg me not to go, but knew that wasn't possible. So she put my needs ahead of her own. It's very brave of her."

"There still might be another way. If you can issue a warning, NORAD thinks they can take down a third of the warbirds before they reach their targets."

"A third?"

"As you would say, the math isn't good."

"It's terrible math, Frank. I'm going to make it better. I'm not sure how, but I will."

"You're a soldier now, and I'm your commanding officer. If I tell you to evacuate the orbital with the crew, you'll need to obey orders."

"Don't count on me obeying orders, sir," Rachel replied with a grim smile.

They saw Tom coming, accompanied by his brothers. They'd been drinking. Tom wasn't drunk, but that was harder to say about Eric and Kevin.

"Still in uniform?" Eric asked.

"Not for much longer," Rachel replied, taking Tom's arm.

"Remember, brother, if you need help, I'm only a phone call away," Kevin offered.

"Kev, you could be twice the man you think you are, and you still couldn't handle me," Rachel teased. By the dare in her eyes, Kevin suspected that might be true.

"We should get going," Taylor advised. "No visitors beyond the checkpoint."

"Thanks, guys," Tom said, giving his brothers hugs. A few minutes later, Rachel and Tom reached their VIP Suite. He pushed the door open with his foot and carried her over the threshold.

"This is a long time coming," he announced.

They found chilled champagne and a big bedroom. Tom set her on the bed. She grabbed him, pulling him down for a kiss.

"You must be tired," Tom said, sitting next to her.

"Not as tired as you're going to be," she responded.

Tom undid the buttons on her new khaki jacket and helped her wiggle out.

"I'm going to shower first," Rachel said, rolling off the bed and going into the elaborate bathroom. It was pink marble with two sinks and a giant tub. She would have preferred a bath, but there wasn't time. The hot water felt great.

"Why join the army?" Tom asked, sitting outside the shower.

"It's a paperwork thing," she answered.

"Why the sudden ceremony?"

"Didn't you want to marry me?"

"I've wanted to marry you for years."

Rachel emerged dripping wet, declining a towel, and sat in his lap. Her expression turned serious.

"I know you've wanted to marry me for years, and I've wanted to marry you. But I'd get crazy, and things got in the way. That was all my fault. It always has been. I had to make it up to you before anything else happened."

"McKay is a good pilot. The tech is solid. You're going to be okay," Tom insisted.

"I'm not worried about that. I was worried about never being Mrs. Thomas Harper. I don't have to worry about that anymore, do I?"

"No, you don't."

"Our marriage isn't official until it's consummated, Mr. Harper. What are you waiting for?"

An hour later, breathless and a little scratched up, Tom came back to the bed with champagne. The bubbles tickled Rachel's nose. She only took a few small sips before putting the glass on the nightstand.

"You're extra wild tonight," he said, crawling under the covers.

"I'm sorry if I got too rough," Rachel apologized.

"That's supposed to be my line."

Tom had found a basket of grapes and strawberries, feeding them to Rachel one at a time.

"Thanks for forgiving Dad. He really is sorry."

"I know."

"Did you scan him?"

"That's ridiculous. No one scans people."

"What did you see?"

"Thomas."

"What did you see?"

"If I could scan someone, and I can't, because that's ridiculous, I might have seen a man mired in old prejudices and resentful of outsiders. But a person who has love in their heart can overcome that. If they want to."

"Has he?"

"I'm not one to judge."

"Dad and I have issues, but you've made it easier. You should visit the house again. It will be different next time, I promise."

"Thomas, if I come back, there are so many things I want to do."

"When you come back."

"A marriage can't survive on lies. It's if I come back."

"Taylor said it's just a maintenance mission."

"Frank can't tell the truth. National security. Nomad is trying to take control of a nuclear platform. It's a bad situation."

"HEO-6? That's where they're sending you?"

"Yes."

"No, no way. That's not the deal."

Rachel got up on her knees, bent over, and kissed him tenderly.

"That horse has already left the barn, my love. I have to go. Frank will explain why. Was it selfish of me to marry you? If I die, I want to die as your wife. I want that so much."

Tears appeared in her eyes. Tom used the sheet to dry them. He realized she wasn't afraid of the danger, she was afraid for him.

"You told Pam, didn't you? In the hall. What did she say?"

"She said everyone will be fine, and to concentrate on what I need to do."

Tom had to give that some thought. Years of conversations came into focus. Stories he'd heard. Things he'd seen her do. Tales told by Rory.

"I'm not happy about this. You wouldn't want me to be," Tom said. "But I know what you're capable of. Your mother is right. The best thing you can do for me, for everyone, is to not let anything distract you. Have you had any hazes? How's your medication?"

"The adrenaline rush of being in outer space should keep me engaged," Rachel replied with a smile.

"What can I do for you? How can I help?"

"Just love me, Thomas. That's all I need," she said, lying down next to him.

* * * * * *

Tom woke up early the next morning, not having much sleep. He heard Rachel in the next room concluding a Zoom with Danny. For such a young boy, he expressed himself well.

"You'll watch out for him, won't you?" she asked. "John's a good father, and Danny has Mom and Mrs. McLane. And Rory and Ashley. It would be nice if he had you, too."

"Of course. Always," Tom agreed. "But you don't need to worry about that now. You're coming back to him."

Rachel dressed in her powder blue NASA jumpsuit and laid the contents of her handbag out on the bed.

"What's all that junk?" Tom asked.

"The usual. My medicines. Makeup. My tablet. Oh, and this is for you." Rachel handed him a padded envelope. "Wait until after the launch to open it, when you're with Rory and Pamela."

"It's not my birthday."

"We'll see whose birthday it is."

There was a knock on the door. Rachel gathered everything with a sigh and gave Tom one final hug, took a few steps, and then rushed back for a kiss. Letting go was hard.

"Be careful," Tom said.

"I won't get crazy," Rachel promised. General Taylor was waiting in the hall with several officers.

"Good morning, Captain Harper," Taylor greeted.

"Good morning, sir. All systems go?" Rachel asked.

"Six hours and counting. The launch facility is at the edge of the field."

"Do you have a bottle of water?"

"Water?"

"I need to take my space sickness pill."

The tram ride wasn't long, all of it underground. Mission Control was active with a dozen stations ready to monitor the flight. Colonel Jeremiah McKay met them in the preparation area.

"Wow, look who's a captain," McKay admired.

The tall, brawny Missourian was wearing his flight outfit. He had curly black hair turning gray at the temples and piercing blue eyes. He looked every inch a pilot.

"Before this is over, I'll outrank you," Rachel replied, making Taylor laugh. She turned, poking a finger in Taylor's chest. "Don't laugh too hard, sir. I may be after your job next."

"I'll watch my back," Taylor said.

Rachel was fitted into the snug silver space suit she'd worn during training. It had pouches for her tablet and pills. She managed to sneak in her makeup kit. Walsh appeared in a long white lab coat, looking older than the night before.

"Remember, no electronic controls," Walsh said. "You've got environmental inputs for air and pressure here and here, and an emergency backup down here."

"Thank you, Mr. Harper," Rachel replied. "They seem simple enough."

"There's still time to change your mind," Walsh whispered.

"That option disappeared two weeks ago, sir," Rachel answered. "But thank you for caring."

"Do everything McKay says," Walsh urged. "He's our foremost veteran. There's nothing about this business he doesn't know inside and out."

"Maybe I'll pick up a few pointers?" Rachel quipped.

"When McKay evacuates the crew, you be on that shuttle."

"You know I can't promise that," Rachel replied.

"If Frank orders you to evacuate, you obey him. No nonsense."

"I can't promise that either."

"You are so stubborn!"

"Yes, I know. Mother says that all the time."

"Be careful. Please be careful," Walsh begged. "We have lost time to make up for."

"Thanks, Dad. I will," Rachel answered, trying to give him a kiss on the cheek. But the suit was too bulky. She settled for a hug.

"This way," General St. Claire said. She was wearing a white lab coat, too.

They were led through a series of secure chambers into a tall, dark silo. It wasn't a giant rocket. Not like the ones filling the grounds at Cape Canaveral. A lift brought them up to a platform accessing the capsule.

"It looks smaller than the training module," Rachel remarked, peering inside.

"We don't like to scare the rookies," McKay explained.

"Well, this is it. Goodbye, sir," Rachel said, offering Taylor a salute.

"Come home, Captain," Taylor replied.

Rachel climbed through the narrow hatch first. The space inside was cramped. Two bucket seats and the control panel. McKay followed her and pulled the hatch shut.

"No sending-off ceremony?" McKay asked.

"I don't like speeches," Rachel informed.

"We don't want these Nomad freaks taking control of our ship, so ground control won't be monitoring our flight," McKay mentioned, busy turning on the systems. "If the rocket malfunctions, we have a parachute to get back down. Above 30,000 feet, we're on our own."

"Is there a button for that?"

"I'll worry about the buttons."

Rachel took out her tablet, activating the screens she wanted.

"Watching Netflix?" McKay asked.

"I downloaded a navigation program," she answered. Then she took out her makeup kit, got the lipstick, and checked her figures before making an X on the small triangular window.

"Think you can steer a spaceship with lipstick?"

"Oh, yes. It's not hard. It just requires triangulation."

They waited as the countdown proceeded. Communications were minimal to prevent signals from being intercepted.

"Nervous?" McKay inquired.

"No."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not flying the ship."

It was true. Rachel was studying her tablet. Equations. Procedures. Protocols. Even with the suit's gloves, she was able to move from screen to screen with little effort. For all McKay knew, she could be relaxing under a tree.

"Check your straps," McKay announced as the final seconds ticked off.

Rachel put her head back, bracing herself. She wasn't completely fearless, but it helped to pretend. She saw vapors outside her window. There was a vibration as the brackets holding the rocket steady were withdrawn.

"Five, four, three, two, one. Lift-off!" McKay announced.

Suddenly Rachel was thrust back, the silo disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and they were shooting up in the air. Even through the suit, the sound was tremendous. She gripped the seat handles, trying to breathe.

"Looking good," McKay said over the suit's intercom.

After a few minutes, the sound faded. The pressure on her chest disappeared. Rachel looked out the window to see blackness and stars.

"Almost there," McKay reported.

"The space station?"

"No, that will take a few more hours. We're almost in orbit. We'll need another boost to reach high orbit. Won't have much fuel after that."

Rachel felt another burst of power. Secondary rockets were driving them higher.

"I've studied the stars," Rachel said. "I haven't paid much attention to space stations."

"Most human activity takes place in low orbit," McKay explained. "GPS systems use medium orbits. HEO-6 uses an elliptical orbit. It allows the greatest flexibility for the missile platform to reach multiple targets."

"It's close to Earth sometimes, and then far away?"

"Exactly. The optimum moment to launch a missile attack would be on approach. Moving away from the planet is more complicated."

"Where is it now?"

"In two hours and twenty minutes, it will be coming up behind us. We'll turn around, dock, and then be carried with the platform back into deeper space."

"You've done this a lot?"

"Don't worry. It's just like parking a car."

Rachel didn't find that reassuring.

* * * * * *

Technically, Tom was supposed to leave the facility after Rachel was gone. But no one seemed to be paying attention, and everyone knew him as Walsh's son. He took advantage to enter Mission Control, standing near the back as the teams monitored the countdown. Once the rocket was locked and loaded, he saw General Taylor and his father arrive on the main floor.

"Hi, Dad," Tom said, suddenly appearing.

"Tommy? What the hell are you doing here? This is a secure facility."

"I spent the night in the VIP suite. How come you didn't tell me what this mission is really all about?"

"Son, I didn't know. I swear. Frank didn't tell me until last night, at the party."

"You trained her for a week."

"And she never let on once. That woman knows how to keep a secret."

"So how bad is it?"

"I can't really say. This mission has been need-to-know only. But from what the scuttlebutt is saying, it's bad."

Taylor noticed the conversation and walked up.

"Harper, you're not supposed to be here," Taylor complained.

"Which Harper?" Tom asked.

"The younger one. You'll need to go," Taylor insisted.

"That's my wife riding that rocket. I have a right to know what you're doing to her."

"Walsh, attend your station," Taylor ordered, pulling Tom aside. "What did Rachel say?"

"Something about Nomad messing with our platform."

"Our codes have been compromised. The only way to reassert control is from the orbital. Honestly, we don't know if she'll be successful, but we need to try. Millions of lives may depend on it."

"Why Rachel? You have hundreds of programmers. Hundreds of code breakers."

"Nomad is using a highjacked Level 13 matrix. No one understands that technology better than she does."

"Rachel told you years ago that Level 13 is a clusterfuck. She told you to dismantle it."

"That was above my pay grade. We're dealing with what we have now."

"Why does everyone think this is so dangerous?"

"Tom, let's take this one step at a time. Anything I say at this point is speculation. Now I'm sorry, but you need to go. I'll have the sentries escort you out."

There was a sudden noise. The complex shook. They looked at the giant monitor screens, seeing a slender rocket streaking above the space center on full thrust.

* * * * * *

"You can really do this without instruments?" Rachel asked as McKay positioned their small capsule.

"We have instruments. We're just not using the computers."

"This thing is full of computers."

"None of them are coordinating with ground control. Nomad can't reprogram our guidance systems without access."

"That's the problem with these Cheetah things," Rachel said.

"You know how they're accessing the missiles?"

"Oh yes, I know all about that. It's simple math."

"Math?"

"Codes. Sequences. Algorithms. I won't know until I see the boards, but I'm guessing their Level 13 is rewriting the platform's programming each time the crew tries to make corrections. The matrix works faster than they can."

"But not faster than you?"

"I think differently."

"I don't understand."

"If you did, you could reprogram the missiles and I would have stayed home. With my new husband. A very handsome husband. I made him chase me for three years, but when he finally caught me, it was worth it."

McKay couldn't help taking his eyes off the controls to glance at her. He'd never seen a woman look so sexy in a space suit before. Nor one who was so unassuming.

"We're coming up on our mark. See those lights?" McKay said.

"Yes. On course. Docking in eighteen minutes, ten seconds."

"How can you be so precise?"

Rachel pointed at the X written on her window, then at the screens McKay was using.

"The horizon gives our position. The scope is providing trajectory. Your radar provides velocity. The rest is just numbers."

"You learn fast."

"It's a survival trait."

Colonel McKay guided the capsule in slowly using alternating retrorockets to maintain control. Rachel watched through the small window, able to see a section of the orbital platform. It was much bigger than she expected, round like a giant wagon wheel with solar panels and scores of antennas. A rotating cylinder in the center provided gravity for the crew quarters.

"Don't be nervous," McKay said.

Rachel was still nervous. And a little space sick. Being weightless was not fun, nor was it encouraging to see a giant object bearing down on their tiny craft.

"Just a few more seconds," McKay reported.

There was a bump, and a metallic locking sound. Motion ceased.

"We've docked," McKay announced. Rachel let out a relieved breath.

* * * * * *

Tom parked his rented SUV in front of his parents' house. The neighborhood was quiet, the spring afternoon warm. He found Bob McLane's RV in the driveway. Rachel may be gone, but Pamela and Rory still required security.

"Hello, Bob," Tom said, tapping on the RV's screen door.

"Hi, Tom. Any updates?" McLane asked, sitting at his computer.

"Everyone is working hard. Is Marissa with you?"

"Back at Stanford. Darnell's getting some sleep."

"Maverick?"

"Watching the beach."

"Say hello for me," Tom said.

Tom went to the porch and almost knocked. It opened for him.

"Looks like the launch went okay," Eric said. "We could see it from the beach."

"How was the honeymoon?" Kevin asked.

"She would have broken you like a twig," Tom replied. "Mom here? And the Bensons?"

"In the living room watching the news reports," Eric said.

Tom stopped in the kitchen for a beer, though he wanted something stronger. Everyone stood up when he entered the room.

"You were with her?" Rory asked.

"I was with Dad and General Taylor when the rocket lifted off," Tom replied. "Lots of people were scrambling around."

"How was she?" Rory said.

"Brave, and a little anxious," Tom replied. The television was showing the space center and various experts giving opinions. "What's this all about?"

"The government is going to make an announcement," Virginia answered.

"About the launch?" Tom questioned.

"They haven't said. But there's rumors of evacuations. FEMA and some of the national guard units are on alert," Kevin said.

Tom motioned to Pamela and they went out the back door. The picnic table overlooked the bay. They saw sailboats, swimmers, and sunbathers.

"What did she tell you?" Tom asked.

"Let's not worry prematurely," Pamela replied.

"You're not worried?"

"I'm terribly worried. But this isn't an ordinary woman we're talking about. It's Rachel."

"Help me understand."

Pamela reached for Tom's beer, took a sip, and gazed out at the bay.

"Rachel doesn't talk much about her past. She finds it embarrassing. But she has come back from the edge so many times. She always finds a way. She will this time, too. I believe it in my heart."

"She's in outer space. With nuclear weapons."

"I'm scared, Tom. You don't know how scared. But doubting her now won't help. She wants us to be brave, and we owe her that."

"Okay. Brave it is," he agreed.

They went back inside. Virginia was making tuna sandwiches in the kitchen, Rory helping. Tom's brothers were on the sofa.

"Whatever it is, it's big," Kevin said. "Every network is covering it."

"Is anyone mentioning Rachel?" Tom asked.

"No one is mentioning anything," Eric answered. "Think Dad knows what's going on?"

"He probably knows something, not that he's allowed to tell us," Virginia said, setting the sandwiches on the coffee table and taking a seat. Rory sat with her mother. The image changed to Paula Farmer, one of the country's most respected journalists. She sat at her anchor desk, blonde hair brushed back, with wire-rimmed glasses halfway down her nose.

"We're getting more information on today's announcement," Farmer said. "It's now being described as a national security emergency. There are stories of alerts in capital cities all over the world. National Security Director Erin Sharpe--"

The screen changed. It was the Oval Office. They saw President Rakesh Bhagwati sitting at the Resolute Desk, flags hanging behind him. His hair looked grayer, the eyes shrunken. He fumbled with a stack of papers.

"My fellow Americans, as promised, this administration has continued to monitor the activities of the terrorist organization known as Nomad. Over the course of the last year, their attacks on critical infrastructure, both military and civilian, have continued to escalate. Efforts to confront these outrages have met with marginal success, and many, rightfully, have questioned why. It now becomes my responsibility to explain, within the limits of protecting our national security, the crisis we face."

Bhagwati shuffled his paperwork, giving his audience time to grasp the gravity of his address.

"Cyberattacks are not a new phenomenon. Western nations have been dealing with them for several decades. The methods and technology are known, if not always easy to circumvent. More recently, this technology has been used for terrorism and extortion. Against cities. Corporations. Hospitals. Even airliners. I regret to inform you, at this time, that it appears this Nomad criminal organization has sought to take control of a nuclear-armed platform orbiting our planet, and they intend to use the missiles in the pursuit of their terrorist agenda.

"Our military is responding with every means at our disposal. We are in meetings with allies, and adversaries, who are facing the same danger. We have it on good authority that Nomad is using a new technology to coordinate their attack. This gives them the ability to monitor communications, override safeguards, and take control of vital systems."

The President paused again. It wasn't an easy speech to make. A presidential aide handed her boss a note. He nodded.

"I now have confirmation that a relief team has reached our orbital platform safely," the President continued. "They hope to prevent Nomad from fulfilling their objectives. And if they can't retake control of the platform, the crew has orders to abandon the station and destroy it. That is the plan. But we must be honest, there are many variables. Our plan may not succeed. To prepare for that eventuality, it becomes my duty, as President of the United States, to declare a national emergency.

"We have a list of the cities being targeted, and at this time, will begin an orderly evacuation to safe zones. Admiral Cassandra Starling of the Joint Chiefs will provide additional information following this address. FEMA is arranging relief camps. The army and the national guards will assist with transport. There must be no panic. This is a difficult time for our nation. A difficult time for the world. I ask for your cooperation, and your prayers."

The screen went dark, then resumed with a new scene. The press room at the Pentagon. Admiral Starling was standing at a podium in a sharp blue uniform decorated with gold braid. Behind her were flags, maps, and a lot of worried staff.

"This is so messed up," Kevin said. "How could they let this happen?"

"Lots of people will be asking that question," Eric replied, gulping his beer.

"It has to be Level 13," Pamela said.

"Level 13?" Virginia asked.

"A screwed-up government matrix," Rory said. "Rachel tried to fix it for them, and she almost died. And then they kept using it anyway."

"Is that why they recruited her? Because of this machine?" Virginia said.

"We're not supposed to say," Tom answered. "But two plus two still equals four."

They listened for twenty minutes, relieved to learn Houston wasn't on the target list. But six other American cities were. There was going to be chaos.

"President Bhagwati didn't mention Rachel," Rory said.

"It's good he didn't," Tom responded. "We wouldn't want Nomad knowing the inventor of Level 12 was up there getting in their way."

"Think she can do it?" Kevin asked.

Tom and Pamela exchanged worried expressions.

"She'll do her best," Pamela said.

"What does that mean?" Eric pressed.

"It means it's a dangerous mission," Tom said. "We need to stay quiet. Secrecy is her best weapon now."

"You're saying she might die? Rachel might die?" Virginia asked.

"Let's hope for the best," Pamela replied.

"Oh my God. Oh my God!" Virginia cried out. She jumped up, turned back and forth, and started to run from the room. Tom stopped her.

"Be calm, Mom. For her," he urged.

"I knew something was wrong. I knew it," Rory lamented. "There were all kinds of hints, and I didn't say a thing."

"She didn't want you to worry, dear. Not any of us," Pamela said, taking her hand.

"Did she say anything? Before she left?" Rory asked.

"Rachel gave me this," Tom revealed, taking the padded envelope from his pocket. "She said not to open it until after the launch. When the family was all together."

"Open it," Rory said.

"I thought maybe we'd wait for Dad. And Ashley will be here this evening," Tom disagreed.

"To hell with them. Open the damn letter," Rory demanded, reaching to take it away.

Tom brought his mother back to the couch and slowly broke the seal as everyone watched. The first thing he found was Rachel's wedding ring. A note was attached saying to keep it safe. Then he took out a sandwich bag containing a narrow plastic stem.

"What's that?" Kevin asked.

"It's a pregnancy test," Rory replied, taking it from Tom to see the results.

"Pregnancy test?" Tom said.

"Yes," Rory replied, reading the date. "It was taken this morning. And it's positive."

"Positive? How can that be? What does it mean?" Eric asked.

Pamela took the test stick from Rory, holding it in both hands.

"It's Rachel's way of saying she has an extra special reason to come home," Pamela answered.

* * * * * *

It looks like Nomad has the upper hand, but Rachel is determined to change the math.