Dr. Mercer cleared her throat. "You've seen he's alive. That was our agreement."
"Let me go to him," I pleaded. "Just for a moment."
She hesitated, then nodded to the guards. "Two minutes. No physical contact."
They released me, and I approached Redmon slowly, stopping just beyond his reach as the guards watched tensely.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking. "This is all my fault."
"No." His voice was fierce despite his injuries. "None of this is your fault. We will find a way out."
I wanted to touch him, to tend his wounds, to feel the reassurance of his strength. Instead, I stood helplessly, just out of reach, trying to convey everything I couldn't say with my eyes.
"They want to create children," I said softly. "Using our genetic material."
"I know." His expression darkened. "They've been planning this for years. Using all of us."
"Time's up," a guard announced, moving to take my arm again.
"Wait," I begged. "Please, just another minute."
"Protocol is clear," Dr. Mercer interjected. "You've seen he's alive as requested."
As they pulled me away, Redmon strained against his chains. "Kalyndi! Whatever happens, remember what we discovered. About the northern… "
A guard struck him hard across the face, cutting off his words.
"Redmon!" I screamed, fighting against the hands that dragged me toward the door.
"That's enough," Dr. Mercer snapped. "Sedate her if necessary."
The last glimpse I had of Redmon was him rising to his full height despite his chains, blood dripping from his mouth, eyes burning with a promise.
I'll find you.
Days blended together in my sterile prison. More tests, more samples, more clinical discussions of my "reproductive potential." I pretended to cooperate, watching, waiting, gathering information. The data chip remained hidden in my hem, its secrets still unknown to me.
Maya visited daily, bringing meals, sometimes staying to ask required monitoring questions. Each time, she whispered fragments of information.
"Third floor. Security lighter at night."
"East wing. Maintenance access."
"Four days. Special transport."
Slowly, a picture emerged. In four days, a special transport would arrive to move me to another facility. During the transfer, security might be lighter. The maintenance access in the east wing could provide an escape route.
I memorized every detail, every scrap of information, preparing for when opportunity might present itself.
On the third night, Maya brought my dinner earlier than usual. Her face was tense, eyes darting nervously.
"They're moving up the transfer," she whispered, adjusting my tray. "Tomorrow morning. The Commander is scheduled for transport too."
My heart leaped. "To the same facility?"
She shook her head minutely. "Separate locations. Permanent separation."
The implications hit me like a physical blow. Once separated, we'd never see each other again. Whatever they planned for us would happen in isolation.
