Rachel the Warrior

Part Eight

by G. Lawrence

Rachel's final decision

Secretly held prisoner by Nomad since the space station was destroyed two months before, Rachel has cooperated with her captors. To a degree. But several of Nomad's inner circle believe she is a danger to their organization. This is part eight of eight.

* * * * * *

Chapter Fifteen

FATEFUL CHOICES

Colonel Joković led Rachel to a jet hangar under heavy guard. The pre-dawn hour was warm due to a summer wind, the grounds surrounded by wheat fields. Rachel saw a lake and trees in the distance. All remained outside the massive doors except Joković, Gruda, and Popov as Rachel was taken inside. There was a scorched space capsule on the flatbed of an old truck.

"Is this why you had Dr. Volker detained?" Rachel asked.

"He has developed feelings for you," Gruda said. "There is no room for feelings in this business."

Gruda went to a locker, pulling out the damaged space suit Rachel had worn on the orbiting platform. It was in rough condition. Parts had been cut open when they were pulling Rachel's unconscious body from the wreck.

"It will be easier if you dress in the suit yourself," Gruda suggested. She was armed with a Russian pistol. So was Popov.

"I would rather not disrobe in front of the men," Rachel replied.

"You will not be needing such modesty," Popov grimly told her.

Rachel climbed up on the truck to look in the small craft she and McKay had flown into outer space. The instrumentation was badly damaged. A section of the heat shield was torn away from hitting the water too hard. Rachel was surprised none of her bones were broken.

"Going to drop me in the ocean?" Rachel guessed.

"After setting you on fire. To destroy the evidence," Gruda replied, showing her a book of matches. Rachel stepped back, eyes wide, catching her breath.

"No one gave me this instruction," Joković objected.

"We are in authority here," Gruda commanded.

"At least give her a drug to knock her out," Joković urged.

"The fire won't destroy her body entirely," Gruda said. "Drugs would be detected during autopsy." Gruda and Popov lifted the spacesuit up on the flatbed.

"Put the suit on now or we'll call the guards to do it for you," Gruda threatened.

Rachel slowly stripped off the coveralls Natasha had found for her, turning her back.

"The underwear, too," Gruda ordered. "They can't find you wearing garments from our commissary."

Rachel obeyed, saying nothing, but getting into the suit proved difficult. She needed to sit on the truck bed, push her feet in first, and then try to put her arms down the sleeves. The bulky material was stiff. No one offered to help. The zippers were damaged, only going halfway. She didn't like the way the men were staring at her. Finally, she managed to partially seal the chest flaps.

"It's scratchy," Rachel complained, the torn lining rubbing against her bare skin.

"It won't be scratchy for long," Popov said.

"Am I allowed to write any last messages?" Rachel asked.

"We think it's better that you don't," Gruda denied. "Get in the capsule."

When Rachel didn't move, Gruda drew her gun. Popov stood back, choosing to observe.

"Dr. Frey should be called," Joković said, getting worried.

"There is nothing here that concerns him," Gruda insisted.

"This is not on my schedule," Joković protested.

"You are here to obey, Colonel, not ask questions," Gruda reminded.

"I still think he should be called," Joković repeated.

There was a pause, Gruda and Popov growing impatient with their security chief. And then an interruption.

"Call me about what?" Frey said, suddenly striding into the hangar. He looked hurriedly dressed in a light brown suit, his shaggy gray hair unbrushed.

"About the change in plans," Joković explained.

"What change in plans? Popov, what's going on here?" Frey asked. Popov didn't answer.

"They are putting her in the capsule, and they are going to set her on fire," Joković reported. Frey looked at his compatriots with a frown.

"This action is premature. I've given no such instructions," Frey said.

Rachel waited next to the capsule. She did not say anything. It was between them.

"We cannot be weak," Gruda said. "The decision has been made."

"The others are expecting the American in the pod tomorrow. To test her theory. How do you take this upon yourselves?" Frey questioned.

"We need no permission," Popov said. "All are equals. All make decisions when they must be made."

"My decision is to delay this action," Frey said.

Gruda turned, her gun ready. Popov drew his gun. Frey was unarmed. They all looked to Joković. Joković looked up at the quiet young woman standing near the bent capsule.

"What do you have to say, Miss Montgomery?" Joković asked.

"About what?" Rachel answered in a soft voice.

"About dying," Joković said.

"It's not her decision," Gruda angrily intervened.

"I want to hear what she says," Joković replied, a hand on his sidearm.

"If the Level 13 clone dies with me, that might be a good thing," Rachel shakily responded.

"Our Level 13 will not die with her," Gruda denied.

"Yes, it will," Rachel said. "You have no idea the power you're dealing with. I'm glad for that."

"Will you help us stabilize our matrix?" Frey asked.

"I won't make any promises, sir," Rachel answered.

"Get in the capsule. Get in now," Gruda demanded, waving her gun. When Rachel hesitated, Gruda fired a shot over her head, the bullet hitting a rafter. The sound echoed throughout the big hangar.

Rachel slowly climbed in, settling into the bucket seat. She thought to reach for the hatch, but it wasn't there. Someone had removed it.

"Joković, get her out of there," Frey ordered.

"No, I will not permit it. Joković, start the fire," Gruda said, throwing him the book of matches.

"Yes, do it," Popov agreed. Both were pointing their weapons.

Joković climbed up on the truck to find a ten-liter can of jet fuel. He stood over the open canopy, staring down at his victim, ready to pour. She glanced up with big brown eyes, clutching her hands. When she dipped her head, he heard her mumbling a prayer. The words were too soft to make out.

Joković raised the canister. The high-octane smell was strong, a splash soaking into his heavy gloves. There was no reaction from inside the space capsule. He paused.

"Montgomery," Joković called.

Rachel didn't respond.

"Montgomery, answer me," Joković urged.

She looked up for the briefest second, finding him hovering over her, before staring back down.

"Rachel! Look at me!" Joković demanded.

"Yes, sir?" Rachel said. She was shaking, her breathing labored. There were tears in her eyes. It was the first time he'd ever seen her so frightened. But she wasn't crying. She didn't beg.

"Do it! Do it now!" Gruda demanded, firing two shots above their heads.

Joković looked back at the three Nomad scientists, sensing how big the hangar was, and how small they seemed. Then he studied the woman awaiting her fate.

"Give me your hand," Joković said, reaching down.

Rachel wasn't sure what he meant. She looked up, seeing a determined expression. He grabbed a shoulder pad and pulled her from the capsule in one powerful motion, setting her on her feet.

"Put her back in! Goddamn you, put her back in!" Gruda yelled.

When Joković refused, Gruda fired another shot, this one much closer. Joković did not duck. Rachel didn't, either.

"I can do it," Rachel said. She placed her hands on the side of the capsule and tried to pull herself in. Her first effort failed. She tried again, but her legs grew weak. She slid down, falling on the truck bed. Joković reached for her.

"I'm okay," Rachel whispered, struggling to get up. She didn't have the strength.

"This is your last chance, Joković. Follow your orders," Gruda warned.

Joković stood tall before them, glaring angrily as he set the fuel can down on the truck, and then kicked it into the hangar. Fuel spilled out, spraying Gruda and Popov as they jumped back. He lit the book of matches and threw it in their direction. They scrambled away as flames spread across the floor. Then Joković picked Rachel up, finding her limp in his arms.

"What do you want me to do, Dr. Frey?" Joković asked.

"Take her back to her room," Frey replied. He gave Gruda and Popov a hard look, gauging how far they'd go. He wasn't surprised when they skulked away.

* * * * * *

Dr. Volker stomped down the corridor like an angry lion. There was a young corporal outside Rachel's door standing guard. Volker reached for the knob and was blocked.

"She is not to have visitors," the youngster said.

"Do you know who I am?" Volker asked.

"Yes, Doctor. But I have my orders."

Volker grabbed the impertinent guard's jacket, lifted him off his feet, and hurled him across the hall into the wall.

"Find her nurse. Now!" Volker demanded. The guard picked himself up and dashed away. Volker directed his personal security to take up positions at the ends of the hallway.

He entered the suite cautiously, not wanting to startle the prisoner. The small kitchen was empty. He went in the bedroom, finding the bed made. Rachel's battered spacesuit lay on the carpet. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. He knocked. When there was no answer, he opened the door.

"Mein Gott!" Volker exclaimed.

Rachel lay in the shower, curled in a ball, naked. The water was cold. She was shivering. Volker dragged her out to the bathroom floor. She was conscious but unresponsive.

"Come from this place," Volker said, carrying her to the bed. He quickly had her wrapped in blankets, massaging her arms and legs. She was staring blankly, her tiny hands clenched in fists.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Natasha asked, arriving with a First Aid kit.

"Popov and Gruda took her to the space capsule and ordered Joković to set her on fire. They were almost successful."

"They are monsters. I am sorry, doctor, but they are," Natasha said, climbing on the bed. She looked into Rachel's eyes and took her pulse.

"What is wrong with her? She won't talk," Volker asked.

"It's a deep dissociative state. Deeper than any I've seen," Natasha concluded. She took out a syringe, giving Rachel an injection of her medication.

"Find clothes for her," Volker said.

Natasha went to the closet, then the dresser. Both were empty.

"Dr. Gruda's staff got here first. All of Rachel's things are gone," Natasha reported.

"Those Cossacks. They will pay for this," Volker swore. "How can we revive her?"

Natasha spent fifteen minutes holding Rachel's hands while whispering her name.

"It's a bad haze," Natasha concluded. "They've been getting worse the last few days. Whatever they did to her, it must have been terrifying."

"Keep trying," Volker urged.

"Rachel? Rachel? It's me, Natasha. Rachel?" Natasha whispered. Rachel stirred but didn't speak. Volker grew impatient.

"Take two of my guards. Find what she needs. Clothes. Tea. Hot soup. On my authority, don't take no for an answer."

"Yes, doctor," the nurse agreed, rushing out.

"Rachel. Rachel," Volker softly summoned.

"Dr. Volker?" she finally mumbled.

"Yes. Rachel, I am so sorry."

"I'm okay. Please go away now."

Volker used an extra wool blanket to wrap her more warmly. She neither cooperated nor resisted. Then he sat against the headboard and cradled her in his huge arms.

"How can I help you?"

"There is something."

"What? Whatever you want."

"The next time they come for me, will you shoot me first? I don't want to be burned."

"They won't come back for you."

"Yes, they will."

"You have been so brave for so long," he whispered, pressing her head against his shoulder. "You will need to stay brave. But you are safe now. I won't let them hurt you. Not ever again."

"I was scared," Rachel confessed.

"Of course you were," Volker replied. "Now it is time to get those tears out, and then you will sleep. I will be here, holding you. I am not going anywhere."

Rachel sobbed quietly for several minutes, the strong embrace comforting. She gradually fell asleep. Volker took out his gun and laid it within easy reach, keeping an eye on the door.

* * * * * *

"I promised Mom not to join the attack. I didn't promise not to be nearby," Rory said as they disembarked from a private jet in Budapest.

Tom, Eric, and McLane were with her. Other elements of the raiders were arriving separately, some in different cities, to avoid detection.

"Sheba arranged for a disaster relief camp to be set up near the border. It's filled with our equipment," Tom said. "We'll take the Red Cross markings off the helicopters at the last minute."

The airport wasn't busy. Recent terrorist threats had depressed travel throughout Europe. Dressed casually, the Americans attracted little attention.

"We've hired trucks to take us to Brăila," Eric said. "Ro and I will be at the hotel coordinating with Sheba. The moment you're back over the border, we'll have the jet ready to take you out of the country."

"When we reach the Nomad base, you shoot the bad guys," McLane said to Tom. "I'll find Rachel."

"It's a big complex. How are you going to do that?" Eric asked.

"I've been following her around for six years. I know how she thinks," McLane replied.

"Do we know anything about how she's being kept? Locked in a cell?" Rory asked.

"Almost nothing. Nomad maintains tight security," Eric replied. "All we know for sure is they guided her capsule down to a lake, a recovery crew arrived, and there was a medical team. Then a large object was moved to their complex. Probably McCay's space capsule."

"Sheba is sure Rachel is still alive, isn't she?" Rory said.

"As sure as we can be," Eric replied.

"We won't leave a stone unturned," McLane promised.

* * * * * *

The pit was alive with workstations and monitor screens. The steel pod mounted in the center had its heavy door open anticipating a crew. Maria, Fournier, and Popov were coordinating with their chief assistants. The surrounding walkways, twenty feet above the floor area, held a score of observers and security personnel looking down on them. The only elevator was guarded. Frey arrived to oversee.

"We're almost ready," Frey said. "Tell Joković to bring the woman."

"She's on the way," Popov grunted.

On the upper walkway, Rachel appeared with two sentries, once again wearing her powder blue coveralls. Volker was with her garbed in a white lab coat. They saw Dr. Gruda holding a clipboard, waiting for the elevator.

"Diandra," Volker said, stopping in front of her.

"What do you want, Konrad?" Gruda replied.

"To keep my promise," Volker answered. Then he grabbed her jacket, lifted her off her feet, and went to the railing overlooking the deep pit.

"Volker! Stop! Put me down!" Gruda shouted. A score of scientists looked up to see the giant German holding their comrade above his head. And then he threw her into the pit, the thin body sailing through the air before crashing on the tile floor with a thud.

"My God," Popov said, jumping from his station.

Gruda lay crumpled at his feet, blood running from her nose and mouth. Several went to check her, some of them medical doctors before becoming terrorists. Gruda groaned incoherently.

"Don't move her. I think her back is broken," one said.

"Call the medics," another urged, waving for help.

Rachel and Volker stood on the walkway above the chaos.

"You didn't need to do that. Not for me," Rachel said.

"She was warned. They all were," Volker replied. "Are you displeased with me?"

"Oh, no. She had it coming," Rachel explained. "I just don't want people madder at me than they already are."

"I will kill Popov for you," Volker offered.

"That's okay. I could kill him myself if I wanted to."

"What are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm sorry to have been so much trouble last night," she sheepishly apologized.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You've been in a haze all morning."

"I need to do this. I want answers as much as you do."

They took the elevator down to the main floor, finding silence. A medical team arrived, strapped Gruda to a gurney, and whisked her away. Everyone got back to work without further comment.

"Is the pod ready?" Frey asked.

"Yes, Gustav. All primed," Fournier confirmed. Popov stared sideways at Volker, keeping his head down. Wondering if he would share Gruda's fate.

"Remind us. What are we doing?" Frey said for the benefit of the teams.

"Miss Montgomery and I are going to test the stabilization," Volker confirmed. "If there are no problems, we'll perform a preliminary installation. If the path isn't clear, we'll power down and look for an explanation."

"We'll be tracking the procedure," Maria said, giving Rachel an encouraging smile. "Just do what you can. What we can't accomplish today, we'll accomplish tomorrow."

"Thank you, Maria," Rachel responded.

She entered the pod, strapping down in a chair before the control panel. Volker sat next to her, signaling the hatch closed. The heavy locks sealed them in.

"This is not like Level 12. You need to be careful," Volker warned.

"You are in more danger than I," Rachel replied. "Level 13 has scrambled my brain twice. I know what to expect. Do you have your oxygen mask? It helps if you get dizzy."

"Right here. And one for you."

Rachel picked the masks up and checked the valves before setting them down on the floor.

"Let's do this," Rachel said, signaling the power.

The pod began to hum. The teams outside watched through small windows, but only had communications through their panels. Volker performed the initial groundwork, activating the screens, priming the inputs, and setting the parameters. Rachel was familiar with all of it. The entire system was based on her work.

"We know your Level 12 gathers and distributes data on a planetary scale," Volker said. "Level 13, as designed by your government, is command and control. Designed to dominate targeted networks."

"Like your team did with the space station," Rachel teased.

"Until you began overwriting their codes."

"Level 13 is inherently unstable," Rachel explained. "It creates gaps in the layering that can be exploited."

"As you have proven. What is the solution?"

Rachel took over the controls, donning a headset, pressing pads against her temples, and adjusting the microphone for whispering instructions. The screens showed long rows of swiftly moving numbers going left to right. Rachel increased the speed until the figures were difficult to follow. Then secondary rows of numbers, in different colors, began flowing in the opposite direction. Some moved up and down. The patterns were dizzying.

"Careful," Volker warned. "Those drawn into the matrix suffer brain damage. For some, it has proven permanent."

Rachel didn't respond. She was moving deeper into the patterns, turning numbers into fractals. They would jump, retreat, swirl, and reform in ways that engulfed their senses. Some resembled squares or circles. Others fluttered like snowflakes. Volker was starting to feel sick. Rachel found an oxygen mask for him.

"I see no progress," Volker said, taking a puff.

"You do not see enough," Rachel replied, starting to take the experiment to a new level.

Outside, Frey was looking over the shoulders of Fournier and Maria.

"What the hell is she doing?" Frey asked.

"Not anything we expected," Maria answered. "She's rewriting the Level 13 stabilization protocol. Turning it into something different."

"She's sabotaging it," Popov mumbled. "Gruda and I warned you."

"No, this isn't sabotage," Fournier disagreed. "And it's no accident. She had this planned from the beginning. It's why she added Xs to the bottom of her notes instead of writing them out."

"Stop her. Shut it down," Frey ordered.

"There is no stopping this," Fournier said. "Only the operators in the pod can do that. All we can do is observe."

"Tell me what's she's doing," Frey demanded.

"Goddamn it, Gustav! We don't know what she's doing!" Maria replied. "This is beyond anything we've ever attempted."

New readings appeared. Whatever the program was doing, the tentacles were reaching out. Indicators showed contacts increasing with outside networks. Servers. Cable hubs. Satellites. Clouds. Anything capable of transmitting information.

"What's that? What's going on?" Frey asked, watching over Fournier's shoulder.

"The matrix is invading foreign systems," Fournier reported. "It's flooding satellite feeds. Overwriting existing codes."

"What kind of codes?" Frey pressed.

"I don't know. I don't know," Fournier replied, holding his hands to his forehead. "I've never seen anything like this."

Frey looked in the pod, seeing Rachel at full intensity, focused, unconcerned with her surroundings. Volker looked ill, sitting back in his chair, taking puffs off his oxygen mask.

"Rachel, are you all right?" Volker asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm very sorry about this," Rachel said.

"Sorry about what?"

"Luring you here under false pretenses."

"You are not stabilizing Level 13, are you?"

"No, that was never possible. I'm creating a hybrid. And I can't let you interfere."

Volker noticed it was hard to move. His hands felt numb. His body stiff.

"What have you done?" he asked.

"Just a tranquilizer, Doctor. In your oxygen mask. It will wear off," Rachel promised.

Suddenly, the controls burst into whole new patterns. The fractals stretched out like strings of lightning bolts. Screens showed electronic networks all over the world being affected. Not just communications, but power plants, computer relays, and transportation systems. Government. Military. Industrial. Financial. Nothing was too big or too small for the new matrix to overwhelm, from missile silos to pacemakers.

"I have never imagined such a thing," Volker whispered. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Something terrible," Rachel said, tears appearing in her eyes.

"Explain. Please," Volker begged.

He looked out the small windows. All activity in the pit had come to a halt, everyone watching Rachel's manipulations. Most were scared. A few were terrified.

"Numbers do not lie," Rachel said, pushing the program forward. She placed her hand on the final input. The locking protocol that would make the installation permanent. There would be no going back. Volker noticed Rachel's eyes looked glassy, like she was in a deep haze. Mesmerized by the rapidly changing integers. She was hardly moving. Hardly breathing.

"Rachel, tell me what you're doing," Volker pleaded.

"The planet is on a dark course," Rachel answered. "The governments are too self-interested to implement mitigating measures. Their behavior can be preempted."

"How?"

"Level 14 is a modulation matrix. It will take over resource allocation. Shutdown harmful industries. Prevent inefficient land uses. All of the planet's economic networks will be rearranged, from energy to transportation to food."

"Nothing can have so much power," Volker whispered in dismay.

"I warned Gruda. I warned all of you. You had no clue the forces you were dealing with. Now you will. The whole world will. It won't happen overnight. Ten years. Perhaps fifteen, depending on the level of resistance. The collateral damage will be extensive."

"You're shaking. Rachel, think about this."

"Inefficient distribution of resources will cause two hundred million unnecessary deaths in the next ten years. Diseases. Disasters. Starvation. And the problems will remain. This matrix will solve those problems but cause fifteen million people to die during the transition. Not necessarily the same people. Some must die for others to live."

"Fifteen million? You're going to kill fifteen million people?"

"You were willing to kill millions for a plan doomed to fail. My plan won't fail."

"Rachel, don't do this."

"I have to. The numbers say ... they say it's the only way. And after all these years, I finally agree with them. I've seen too much, Konrad."

Rachel was sobbing, her hand trembling as she put pressure on the entry panel. The data streams were everything she had always imagined, and dreaded.

"The problems of the world were created by the world," Volker said. "The world must solve them. It's not your place to do this. No threat demands you surrender your soul."

"What if I don't? What if--"

Volker used every bit of strength he had to reach out, touching her arm. He didn't have the strength to stop her.

"Rachel, I'm becoming an old man. I've lived an exciting life and hope for more. You are still young. You will find another way."

Rachel hesitated.

"I--"

"You must listen to me know. Listen to your heart. You will find another way," Volker promised, gently and with conviction.

Rachel continued watching the patterns. The end of worlds.

"Are you sure?" Rachel finally asked.

"I believe in you." Volker replied.

Rachel thought carefully on his words. The numbers were not wrong, but that didn't make them right. Was it a mistake to proceed? Was it a bigger mistake not to? She sighed, then drew her hand back. The progressions slowed.

"I can't leave this technology intact," Rachel decided. "It would give the wrong person too much power."

"I agree. What should we do?"

"Burn it down," Rachel replied.

"I will assist you."

Rachel helped Volker sit up, gave him good air off her own oxygen mask, and was glad to see him moving.

"Can you stand?" she asked.

"I can walk, if I need to," he replied.

Rachel scrambled the control panels before overloading the energy feed. Flashing red lights and warning sirens screamed throughout the complex. Countermeasures were overridden. Ten minutes later, assured the damage was irreversible, she freed the locks on the pod and opened the intercom.

"To all personnel, this is Rachel Montgomery in the control room," she announced, first in English, then in Russian. "The nuclear reactor is going to malfunction. Evacuate immediately. Repeat, evacuate immediately. This is not a drill."

"That should get the message across," Volker said with a grin.

Rachel helped him up, emerging from the pod. The assistants and security personnel were already gone, only Frey, Fournier, Maria, and Popov remaining.

"You have destroyed years of work," Frey angrily complained.

"Old friend, you have no idea what we've just destroyed," Volker replied, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"We need to save what we still can," Fournier insisted, returning to his workstation. They all did. Even Volker. Rachel slipped away, taking the elevator to the upper walkway. There she found even more commotion.

"What's going on, Mikel?" she asked the young corporal often seen outside her door. A friendly lad she had often teased.

"The Americans. They've launched a surprise attack," he breathlessly replied.

"Give me your gun," Rachel said, reaching out her hand.

The skinny soldier looked confused, then gave her his pistol and ran off. Rachel went to the security office, sitting down to study the monitors. She had company a moment later.

"I saw what happened in the pit," Joković said. "Is that why you were ready to die? So you would not impose tyranny on the world?"

"Yes. What's going on outside?"

"The Americans are trying to rescue you. Helicopters from the west. Paratroops from the north. The perimeter was holding until you issued the alert. Now there is chaos. Is the complex really in danger?"

"Oh, yes. Dr. Volker helped me. It's going to blow up in forty-five minutes."

"Can it be stopped?"

"It would take several hours to reverse the overload."

Joković nodded as if expecting that answer.

"My men and I will use the escape tunnels to the south," Joković said.

"Are you going to kill me?" Rachel asked.

"I have no instructions to kill you."

"Are you going to take me hostage?"

"Only a fool would take you hostage."

"Be safe, then," Rachel said.

Joković was caught-off guard, realizing she was sincere.

"I pride myself on being a hard man. I did not realize you are an even harder woman. Do you regret not implementing your program?"

"Over the next few years, when people are dying who shouldn't have, I'll wonder if I'm responsible," Rachel confessed.

"You aren't. Take my word for this. Soldiers like you and I, all we can do is our duty. The lords and masters make the decisions."

"I'll try to remember that," Rachel appreciated.

Joković offered a formal salute and disappeared down the hall. The sirens were still blaring throughout the complex. Rachel took a moment to watch the security cameras. There was small arms firing just outside the chain link fences, complicated by fleeing civilians. She thought it a good time to leave.

The walkway was empty. Rachel paused for a final look down into the pit, only to be surprised.

"Why are you still here?" she shouted.

Below her were five surviving members of Nomad, looking frightened and forlorn.

"The elevator stopped working. We can't get out," Fournier replied.

"Just a minute. Don't go anywhere," Rachel said.

She ran back to the storage room filled with emergency supplies. First Aid kits. Fire extinguishers. Crowbars. Fire hoses. A ladder. It was heavy. She had to drag it out to the walkway and lift it over the railing. It took all her strength.

"Damn it," Rachel cursed, seeing it had gotten hung up on a lighting fixture.

"Rachel, run. There isn't much time left," Volker warned.

"Don't worry," Rachel replied, climbing over the railing and reaching out with her foot. She kicked the ladder, and then kicked again. She almost lost her grip. Volker and Fournier moved beneath her in case she fell.

"Watch out," Rachel warned, throwing all her weight into the effort. The ladder came free, sliding down to crash on the floor. Rachel managed to hang on to the railing, her breath short.

"Hurry," Rachel called out.

Volker held the ladder steady as Maria went first, followed by Fournier and Frey. Popov paused, not sure if Volker would let him escape. Volker waved him on. Popov scrambled up as quickly as he could.

"Hurry, Dr. Volker. It's not hard," Rachel said.

"I'm not sure I can make it," Volker replied.

"Either you come up or I'm coming down to get you," Rachel insisted. "We leave together or not at all."

Volker clumsily struggled up the ladder, Frey and Fournier helping him over the railing.

"You have a gun. Are we under arrest?" Frey asked.

"Do I look like a police officer?" Rachel responded. "Colonel Joković said the tunnels to the south are safe. You can make it if you leave now."

"Why did you save us?" Popov inquired.

"I couldn't leave you there," Rachel said in surprise. "Now go before I shoot you."

Popov took off.

"Thank you, dear," Maria said, giving Rachel a kiss on the cheek before following.

"We will meet again," Frey said, turning to leave.

"I hope not," Rachel replied. Fournier shook her hand, then chased after his comrades.

"Thank you, Dr. Volker. You saved me in so many ways," Rachel said.

"I think we will meet again, too," Volker said, kissing her on the forehead.

"I hope so," Rachel agreed.

She was soon left alone on the walkway, red lights flashing and sirens ringing. They were loud.

* * * * * *

"Keep pressing," Tom ordered.

"Resistance is weakening, Commander," a comrade said.

Forty former Navy commandoes were pressing a ground attack from the west. They could see Nomad's complex past the barbed wire fences.

Someone produced a bazooka to blow the gate open. Big sections of the fence crashed down with it. Tom saw khaki-garbed soldiers to his left. Jay and his Ranger buddies had overrun the northern perimeter and were closing in.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Tom shouted, firing his M4A rifle.

Suddenly, all firing from the other side ceased. Weapons were tossed to the ground.

"Are they surrendering?" McLane asked, dressed in camouflage green.

"I don't know what the hell they're doing," Tom replied.

Before he could catch a breath, people started pouring from the buildings. Soldiers, scientists, custodians, and office workers. They rushed up to the American intruders and right on past them, scurrying for their lives. Some climbed into trucks, others found cars. Tom grabbed a gardener.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"It's on fire. The nuclear reactor is on fire," the desperate man said. Then he broke loose and fled.

"Hold the perimeter," Tom ordered over his com. "Repeat, hold the perimeter. They may be destroying the complex."

Tom rushed forward with McLane and a few others, watching for treachery. Jay met them at the door. None of those fleeing the building gave them a second glance. Some carried files, or clothes. One old lady was holding her cat. There weren't any weapons. Tom and McLane entered through the wide entrance, finding a huge lobby made of glass and marble. There were reception counters, TV monitors, and trams for getting around. A group of geeky programmers stampeded past them, mumbling in foreign languages.

"She's around here somewhere," Tom shouted, startled by the panicked mob.

"She's right over there," McLane said, pointing toward the main doors.

Rachel appeared in her blue jumpsuit, a pistol in her hand, directing stragglers toward the exits. She saw Tom and smiled.

"Hi, handsome," Rachel said. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you," Tom said in astonishment.

"You're doing a great job, but we should leave now. This whole building is about to blow up."

"Because of you?" McLane asked.

"It wasn't hard," she answered.

* * * * * *

Rachel looked down from the helicopter as it flew over the border into Romania. Below her, tanks were moving in the opposite direction. American fighter jets streaked overhead. Tom saw her question.

"It looks like NATO has finally had enough," Tom said.

"Won't take them long to mop up what's left," McLane guessed.

"Was Nomad on the run when you escaped?" Jay asked.

"They were skedaddling," Rachel confirmed.

"Any idea where they went?" McLane inquired.

"Not really. I wasn't paying that much attention. It's good you found me when you did."

"Why is that?" Jay questioned. "When we got there, Nomad was on the run, their facility was on fire, you'd armed yourself, and you were even helping with the evacuation. What did you need us for?"

"I needed a ride to the bus station," Rachel replied. McLane realized Rachel was joking. He wasn't sure if the others knew.

Tom couldn't take his eyes off her. He wanted to grab her, hug her and kiss her, but after such a traumatic experience, he didn't want to press too hard. Rachel looked at him with a question.

"Have you been eating properly? You look thin," Rachel observed.

"I thought you were dead. We all did," Tom replied.

"Oh, that happens a lot," Rachel dismissed.

She grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Tom wished they were home so he could carry her into the bedroom.

McLane moved closer. In the rush to reach the helicopters, there had been no time to speak. Nor did Rachel appear talkative. He looked in her eyes and checked for injuries.

"I'm okay," Rachel said.

"Can you tell us what happened?" McLane asked. The group fell silent. Expectant. They were disappointed.

"How are mother and the children?" she replied.

"You'll need to talk about what happened," McLane pressed.

"Maybe. Someday," Rachel responded.

They landed at an airfield outside a small town where a private jet was ready to take off. The WHD logo was painted on the tail. Rachel saw Rory waiting on the tarmac and ran into her arms.

"I missed you so much," Rachel said.

"I can't believe you're really here. It's a miracle."

"Luke 15:24," Rachel quoted.

"That hasn't changed either," Rory said with a relieved laugh.

Rachel noticed Eric Harper waiting near the jet.

"Did you bring the whole family?" she asked.

"Everyone wanted to be here," Rory replied.

Colonel McKay appeared at the top of the boarding ramp and raced down, scooping Rachel up in a very unmilitary fashion.

"You scared the hell out of me," McKay complained.

"My mission was to evacuate the crew and stop the missiles," Rachel defended. "Didn't I do well?"

"You did great," McKay agreed.

"I crashed your space capsule," Rachel confessed.

"NASA will buy me a new one," he assured her.

"Not to break up the reunion, but how about we get the hell out of here?" McLane suggested.

They piled into the jet, Rachel sitting next to Tom, Rory right across the aisle. McKay was in the pilot seat. Ten minutes later, they were in the air.

"Everyone is so anxious to have you back," Rory said, reading news flashes on her phone. "The President wants to give you a medal. New York is planning a ticker tape parade."

"Tell them thank you, but no," Rachel sighed. "I just want to go home. Was I declared dead?"

"More or less. You had a funeral," Rory answered.

"Tom, does that mean we aren't married anymore?" Rachel asked. "If I'm dead?"

"We are still married," Tom replied. "Nothing will ever change that."

Tom reached into his pocket and took out her wedding ring, slipping it on her finger. Then he gave her a long, slow kiss. Rachel swooned.

"Did you get the test?" she asked.

"Yes, I opened it in front of Rory and your mother, like you wanted," he confirmed. "Have there been any problems?"

"I should have an ultrasound, just to be sure. And we need to check for side effects."

"Side effects?" Rory asked.

"I was in outer space, Ro. Exposed to cosmic rays," Rachel explained. "My baby might have superpowers."

"That can't happen," Rory said in surprise.

"It happened to Susan Storm. She turned invisible."

"Who?" Rory asked.

"Jesus Christ, Ro, Susan Storm is a member of the Fantastic Four," Eric said. "In the comic books. Rachel's teasing you. Aren't you, Rach?"

"Time will tell, Mr. Harper," Rachel wistfully answered. "How is Danny? How is Mother and the family?"

"Good. Everyone will be good now that you're back," Rory answered. Rachel noticed Tom watching her, his expression hesitant.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm just glad you're okay," he replied.

Rachel got out of her seat to sit in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"My dear husband, I'm more than okay," she whispered. "The first chance we get, I'm going to prove it to you."

It was midmorning when they landed in Santa Monica. Rachel had slept most of the way, waking briefly for tomato soup and crackers. She was still groggy when Tom told her they were home.

McLane went down the boarding ramp first, making sure his security had control of the area. They kept the press at a distance. A large crowd shouted and waved signs. There were flags everywhere. A brass band struck up patriotic tunes. Rachel cautiously followed Rory and Eric down the ramp, glad to have firm ground under her feet. Then she saw Pamela running in her direction.

"Rachel!" Pamela yelled.

"Mother!" Rachel shouted.

They embraced in the middle of the boarding area, and then Rachel's legs went weak. Pamela caught her.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," Rachel sobbed. "I gave up. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you so much."

"No, no, no," Pamela said, holding her daughter tightly. "You promised to return to me, and you have. That's all that matters."

"I don't want to leave you ever again," Rachel said.

"You won't, dear. Not ever again," Pamela assured her.

* * * * * *

Epilogue

AURORA

Six months after the destruction of the Nomad complex, Bensons and Harpers gathered at Canby Place for a special occasion.

"What a crowd," Rory said, seeing twenty people in the sunken living room, upper dining area, and the saloon. She was serving drinks. Martha served sandwiches. It was a cold and cloudy January day, keeping everyone indoors.

"She's okay, isn't she?" Kevin asked, sitting in a leather armchair. Nearby shelves held a dozen porcelain figurines and several novels.

"Rachel is doing great," Sheila answered. "She had the best obstetricians in the country."

"And Bob McLane has an army keeping the media from bothering her," Eric added, next to Sheila rubbing elbows.

"Those reporters are so annoying," Virginia complained. "Rachel lives 2,000 miles away, and they still camp outside our door begging for some tidbit."

"The press will get tired eventually," Walsh hoped. "Though it would be nice if Rachel gave an interview or press conference once in a while. No one ever hears her say anything."

"She did that interview with Ruth Sparrow," Ashley said.

"And all she talked about was cooking, Jane Austen, and babies," Virginia mentioned. "Every time Ruth called her a hero, Rachel dipped her head and changed the subject."

"She could have said something about how she defeated Nomad," Walsh complained.

"Rach hates the limelight, Walsh. She always has," Rory bantered. "Didn't you once call her a glory hunter?"

"I said a lot of stupid things, Ro. Thanks for reminding me," Walsh responded. He raised his glass. Rory gave him a grin.

"Thanks for letting us stay here, John," Samantha said, next to William holding their four-month-old son. "Canby Place has become our sanctuary."

"As we've all learned," John agreed, nestled close to Alicia as Lisa and Gabriel played at their feet. Next to them was young Danny Benson wrestling with his new puppy.

"Doesn't the house get crowded?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah, it sure does. Isn't it great?" Rory said, holding hands with Ashley.

"Real great," William said. "And it's all because of Rachel. After Mom and Dad divorced, we kids went our separate ways. Angry and indifferent. She brought us back together."

"We know what that's like," Virginia said, squeezing the hands of her daughters. "It's so good to have Meagan and Cynthia back home with us."

"When Rachel insisted we come to her baby shower, it was hard to say no," Meagan replied. "Though Dad being there surprised me."

"Both of us," Cynthia said. "We weren't happy about it at first, but Rachel said there's nothing more important than family."

"She kind of backed us against a wall and laid down the law," Meagan admitted. "Rachel can be tough."

"Rachel called Walsh and I on the carpet, too," Virginia explained. "Along with a whole string of Biblical quotes."

"She's been a good teacher," Walsh emphasized, sitting close to his daughters.

"Any plans now that you're back?" William asked.

"Miss Marbury is giving us positions at WHD," Meagan revealed. "As Rachel's sisters-in-law, we'll be roving ambassadors."

"Sheba," Sheila corrected. "We're family now."

"Yes, Sheba," Meagan agreed.

They heard cars pull up in the driveway. A town car and private security.

"I'll get the door," Jackie McLane said, rushing to the foyer.

Bob McLane entered first, giving his mother a hug. The formidable bodyguard was carrying a baby bag. Pamela and Oliver followed, standing aside in the doorway. Then Rachel appeared in a wheelchair being pushed by her husband, a newborn baby in her lap wrapped in a pink blanket. She was all smiles, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed.

"You should make the introduction, Thomas," Rachel said, handing him the baby. Tom was bursting with smiles, too.

"Friends and family, allow me to present our daughter, Aurora Marbury Harper," he announced.

The rambling ranch house filled with applause. Everyone jumped up to offer congratulations. Pamela couldn't remember Rachel ever looking so happy.

"I have an important question to ask," Rachel announced. "Sheba?"

"Yes, Rachel," Sheila said, coming forward. Rachel reached to take the baby from Tom.

"Jay Silverhawk and I spoke about Rachel Little Bear, in Juniper," Rachel explained. "I'm her godmother. Jay says that's a sacred bond. Deeper than friendship. Deeper than family. Sheila Marie Marbury, will you be Aurora's godmother?"

Rachel offered the baby to Sheila, smiling hopefully. Sheila took Aurora in her arms, looking stunned.

"Really?" Sheila asked.

"You are my rock," Rachel urged. "With you as her godmother, I know Aurora will always be safe."

"Thank you, Rachel. Thank you so much," Sheila agreed. "And you, Tom. I'm very grateful."

"We're the ones who give thanks," Tom replied with a hand on her shoulder.

"Okay, now that we've got that settled," Rachel said, "we need food. And drinks. I'm not cooking tonight."

They got the hint. A few floated into the kitchen to help Martha. Others went to the saloon, John playing bartender. Oliver sat at the dining table reading the Wall Street Journal, discussing investments with Eric and Meagan. Ashley and Rory took Aurora, giving her parents a respite. Cynthia helped with her new niece.

With dinner preparations underway, Tom assisted Rachel down into the sunken living room, making her comfortable on thick quilts before the hearth. Her favorite spot.

"Welcome home, Mother," little Danny said, reaching for a hug. "Athena is happy to see you, too."

The rambunctious Labrador squeezed in, licking Rachel's face. Rachel gave her a kiss on the nose before pushing her back.

"You're not so big anymore," Danny observed.

"I gave birth to your new sister," Rachel replied. "We talked about that."

"I know. But you're so skinny."

"And I'll stay skinny, for a while. What do you think of Aurora?"

"She's little."

"You are her big brother, Daniel. You must always protect her."

"I will, Mother. I promise."

Rachel pulled him into her arms.

"I love you so much, sweetheart. How was your first week at preschool?" Rachel asked.

"Good. I'm really smart," Danny replied.

"Let's keep that a secret, dearest," Rachel whispered.

Jackie came over to herd the children back to their playroom.

"We've got more babies," Rachel apologized. "I'm sorry they're so much work."

"No, never say that," Jackie replied, taking her hand. Rachel gave it a long, loving squeeze.

"Mrs. McLane, I keep forgetting. Have I ever paid you to raise my children?"

"Honey, if that's what it came down to, I'd pay you," Jackie responded. "But there is something you can do for me."

"What? I'll do anything," Rachel swore.

"Call me Jackie."

"Oh, no, I can't do that," Rachel protested. "It would be disrespectful."

"Honey, I'm not just your nanny, I'm your friend," Jackie persisted, maintaining a steady stare.

"Okay. Jackie," Rachel finally relented. "Thank you so much."

"Will you finally call my son Bob?" Jackie asked.

"Let's not go crazy," Rachel answered with a smile.

Soon the children and the puppy had disappeared. Virginia and Walsh came down from the dining area to sit on the floor next to Rachel. She scooted over so they could be closer to the fire.

"Dear, you are looking so good," Virginia said, adjusting her pillows. "But you have a giant house filled with expensive furniture. Why do you lay on the floor?"

"I like it," Rachel answered.

"No one will accuse you of being pretentious," Walsh grinned. "You know, when I heard all those stories about Canby Place, I expected a heathen palace. Greek columns. Nude statues. A stage for dancing girls. This is really homey. Half the time, it feels like a daycare center."

"Thank God for Mrs. McLane. She keeps me sane," Rachel said. "How is your room?"

"Our room is lovely, dear. Everything is," Virginia said. "Thank you so much for inviting us."

"It's your home, too, Mom. For as long as you want. Though we might want to add another wing," Rachel said.

"Let me know. I'll bring Eric and Kevin to help build it," Walsh suggested. "Come to think of it, Meg and Cindy know their way around a table saw, too."

"Thanks, Dad. What do you think of your new granddaughter?"

"She's beautiful," Walsh gushed.

"The most beautiful ever," Virginia agreed.

"Just so you understand, I promised you a grandson," Rachel said, turning serious. "And I always keep my promises. I'm going to have Tom working on it day and night until we're successful."

Tom's face turned red. Virginia and Walsh were laughing.

"Would anyone like a glass of wine?" Pamela asked, approaching with a tray of glasses.

"Yes, Mother. The most expensive you have. One of those $20 bottles. Maybe $30," Rachel requested.

"This bottle cost $1500," Pamela explained.

"Oh, that's too much," Rachel said in shock.

"It's already open, dear. We may as well drink it. Virginia, Walsh, would you like a glass?" Pamela offered.

"As long as the bottle is already open," Walsh agreed with a smirk.

Pamela pulled up a chair, declining to sit on the floor. Tom poured the wine.

"Just before we left, Frank told me you're still in the army," Walsh mentioned.

"Army Reserve," Rachel said. "Sort of honorary. When I was dead, they gave me a promotion. They don't take those away for still being alive, do they?"

"No, you get to keep that," Tom assured her. "About the medal?"

"What about the medal?" Walsh asked. "I know there's talk of the Medal of Honor."

"General Taylor suggested that to Rachel. She declined," Tom answered.

"Declined?" Walsh said.

"Dad, the Medal of Honor is for real soldiers, not amateurs like me," Rachel explained. "I did agree to a Silver Star."

"Why the Silver Star?" Virginia asked.

"It's pretty," Rachel replied.

"Has Aurora been fussy?" Virginia inquired.

"Not too much," Rachel said. "Danny was a good baby. Mostly. Is there anything about little girls I should know?"

"Boys like things that move. They are very visual," Pamela said. "Girls like colors. Textures."

"We can help prepare her crib," Virginia encouraged.

"Tommy, let's let the ladies talk," Walsh recommended, leading him up to the saloon on the second level. They found stools at the bar, able to look down into the living room. Rachel was beginning to tire, lying back while Pamela and Virginia made sure she was comfortable.

"What can I get you?" Rory asked, playing bartender. Behind her was a fully stocked bar and a giant etched mirror of a cattle drive. A movie poster signed by Randolph Scott hung prominently on the wall.

"Two old-fashions," Walsh answered. "And get one for yourself. You still haven't told me about those wild adventures you used to have. Before you became a nurse."

"Walsh, all of those stories are online," Rory replied, enjoying the teasing.

"I don't believe what I read online anymore," Walsh said with a frown. Rory smiled and went to make the drinks. The men looked down toward Rachel, sitting up again, lecturing about something. Walsh wondered if it was Einstein's Theory of Relativity.

"Son, you really are the luckiest son of a bitch in the world," Walsh said, offering a toast.

"Don't I know it," Tom replied.

After a time, Sheila came to sit with Rachel, hoping for a private talk. Rachel was wrapped in a warm blanket, weary but alert.

"I don't wish to bother you with business," Sheila said.

"It's not a bother, Sheba," Rachel replied. "Thank you again for making this day possible. So many of my days possible. You've saved me so many times."

"You do the saving, Rach. I'm just your sidekick."

"We make a good team," Rachel compromised.

"You've been retired since your return. Now that you've had the baby, any thoughts on returning to work?"

"I'm setting my experiments aside for now. I had an unrealistic vision of how they would work. A friend taught me to take a longer view of the problem."

"Anyone I know?"

"Only by reputation."

"You weren't far away from completing Level 14," Sheila mentioned.

"Sheba, using Nomad's technology, I completed Level 14. That's why I destroyed it. Mother has told me for years not to take the burdens of the world on my shoulders. I think it's time I start listening."

"You can always help me at headquarters. WHD keeps getting bigger every day."

"Part-time, maybe. I have two children now. And a puppy. Is it okay if I'm just lazy for a while? Cook. Swim. Learn gardening?"

"Rachel, whatever you want to do, I'll be here for you."

"You always have been," Rachel said, taking her hand. "How about a trip to Juniper? We can take a dip in the hot springs."

"That sounds like fun," Sheila agreed.

* * * * * *

After dinner, with the house still in chaos, Tom pushed Rachel's wheelchair up the brick path to their new home on top of the ridge. It looked like a Midwestern farmhouse, with a wide veranda, large windows, and a brick chimney. The interior was simple yet elegant. Below them were the rugged hills of Palos Verdes. As the sun set over the Pacific Ocean in the distance, Tom parked Rachel on the porch and fetched a cup of hot tea.

"Isn't it a nice evening?" he asked.

"It's wonderful, Tom. It couldn't be nicer."

"Dad is totally in love with you."

"I know."

"You've hardly said a word since all this craziness started. Not to NASA, or the FBI. Not even to General Taylor."

"I talk all the time. Far more than I used to. It's exhausting."

"If you ever want to talk about what happened, when you were a prisoner, you can."

"I understand," she said, reaching for his hand. But she didn't elaborate.

"So many times in your life, you didn't want to discuss the future. Like you didn't expect to have one. But we have a future now. We can make plans."

"Thomas, I know I've been a burden to you. You've had to sacrifice your own career for me, and you've been patient with me beyond endurance. I really don't know how you put up with me. I think it's time for our future to be about you. What do you want?"

"You've never been a burden. You are exciting, and challenging, and beautiful, and having you in my life is the greatest thing that's ever happened."

"You deserve more. You raised an army to rescue me. You gave me a daughter. You're going to give me a son. Every morning when I wake up, I know there's a wonderful handsome man who loves me. You give me so much strength. What can I do for you?"

"Promise that whenever you get crazy, you'll never forget that I love you."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay, I can do that. Now give me a kiss."

* * * * * *

The next morning, while Tom was still asleep, Rachel put on a shawl and slipped out to the grass lawn below the house. It was damp but she'd brought a blanket to sit on. She found Pamela coming up the path carrying a breakfast tray.

"Good morning, Mother," Rachel said with a big smile.

"Good morning, Daughter," Pamela replied, sitting down next to her. "It's cold. Should you be out here?"

"I'm okay. These fleece suits you buy me are warm."

"You're looking great."

"I feel great. Mostly."

"The delivery wasn't so hard this time, was it?"

"You made sure of that. I've never seen so many doctors and nurses in one room. It was embarrassing."

"And worth it," Pamela concluded.

Rachel sipped her tea. Bacon and eggs had never smelled so good.

"What do you think of Aurora? Isn't she pretty?" Rachel asked.

"She's totally precious, dear. I'm looking forward to spoiling her."

"You're good at that."

"Okay, it's time to fess up."

"Fess up about what?"

"You've been avoiding your therapist. The numbers have been creeping back, which you won't admit to. You've got PTSD. And whenever someone asks you about the future, you change the subject. You need to talk about what happened. You need to talk about it with me. Your mother who loves you."

"I don't think I should. I don't know how."

Pamela produced a pint of Pendleton's Straight Kentucky Bourbon and poured a splash into Rachel's cup. Then poured some in her own.

"A little early for that, don't you think?" Rachel said, seeing the sun barely above the horizon.

"Were you going someplace today?"

"Probably not."

"You can't hold your alcohol," Pamela said. "We'll drink this whole damn bottle if that's what it takes."

"Mother?"

"Daughter."

"I was very scared," Rachel confessed. "When the space station was breaking up, I was too busy to pay attention. But after the missile was gone, and there was nothing more I could do, I was alone. Even the radio wasn't working. I'd never felt so alone. It was hard. I wasn't too scared by Nomad. They may have been terrorists, but they were also scientists. Except when two of them put me back in the space capsule and were going to set me on fire. That was the worst moment. I was terrified."

"What?! They did what?"

"Not all of them were evil, only misguided. They want a better world. I understand that better than anybody. They just lacked the tools."

"They killed people, Rachel. There's no excuse for that."

"I almost killed people. I almost used Level 14 to kill millions of people. And I would have if Dr. Volker hadn't stopped me."

"Millions of people?"

"The math said that by sacrificing some, more could be saved."

"You were under duress."

"I don't know if that's true."

Rachel pulled the shawl tighter and took a sip of the bourbon straight from the bottle.

"Was your medication working?" Pamela asked.

"Not very well. But from the moment I found myself in Nomad's custody, I planned to seize control of their matrix. I lured them into a false sense of complacency, and when I got myself in the pod, did exactly what I intended. I may have been in a haze, but there was no duress. No one was more surprised than they were when I took control of their machine."

"Rachel, everybody harbors dark thoughts. You didn't act on yours. And this doctor? He couldn't have talked you out of anything if you didn't want him to. Take it from me, when you set your heart on something, no one gets in your way."

"I guess."

Pamela poured more bourbon in her tea. Rachel leaned over to put her head against Pamela's shoulder.

"You're so good to me," Rachel sighed.

"Dear, from that first day you came into my office, you've made life exciting for all of us," Pamela said, stroking her hair. "You are brilliant, and funny, and loving, and you work hard to care for everybody but yourself. We're going to figure this out. Right?"

"Okay."

"You'll see your therapist? And take your medication?"

"Yes."

"That's good. Now I think we need to get you a sewing machine."

"A sewing machine?"

"I'll teach you how to make baby clothes for Aurora."

"That sounds interesting."

"You promised the USS Texas committee to make dinner for their fundraiser in the spring. We'll go to Houston and have the big wedding you still owe us."

"Can I wear a white dress?" Rachel asked.

"You can wear any dress you want."

"The bridesmaids always have horrible outfits, don't they?"

"Usually," Pamela confirmed.

"That will be fun."

"After that, you can stay home and take care of babies," Pamela suggested. "You can travel. You have the hot springs in Juniper to develop. You can vacation in Ketchum. So many things, my dear. What would you like to do?"

"I was thinking," Rachel replied. "About Level 14. With some tweaking ..."

* * * * * *

This is the end of Rachel's adventures for now, happy and strong, looking forward to a wonderful life. It has been a privilege to present Rachel from the Edge, Rachel Running on Empty, and Rachel the Warrior on this website.