Chapter One

I knew all along Veronica was a plant, stupid Comicin cow! As I look around the room I’ve been hauled into, all I see are parts- lots and lots of parts. Obviously, I’m here to work. So I guess this whole ruse isn’t about Alfred or the card after all. Veronica and Ralph stand near a table in the middle of the room talking. They’re not even trying to muffle their voices. Wow-o, that’s some arrogance.

“I think you’re putting more stock in this girl’s capabilities and in the effects of her “inventions” (yeah, she actually used air quotes) than you should. How could a machine really be that powerful? Powerful enough to restore all that was taken from you? Wouldn’t it be more prudent (I’m surprised she knows the word) to have multiple plans? Gather more people to our side? Overwhelm the whitecarder with numbers? Maybe even plant…”

“Stop!” Ralph bellows (seriously, he bellowed). “First, you have no idea of what this girl is capable. Second, you have no concept of my loss. Third, no one asked for your assistance in planning. Your job is to simply follow orders; nothing more.” As he spoke he moved a hand up to the nape of her neck, and by the time he finished he was squeezing hard enough to cause considerable pain. I recognized that position all too well. It’s not really about pain; it’s about control.

I stand gazing directly at the pair as this scene unfolds. If they aren’t worried about me hearing, I’m worried about them seeing me watching them. Besides, if they wanted to kill me they could have- many times. And, I reason they can’t hurt me too badly, or I won’t be able to work. Like I’m actually going to build them something to help with their rebellion. I don’t give a crap about their stupid rebellion. I’ve been an exile longer than the current government has been in charge. Maybe Ralph here doesn’t understand that I know it was his regime that placed me in the lovely resort known as Sector 7.

I’m getting a little tired- OK, a lot tired- of this ridiculous kidnapping and gun-aiming and drugging (actually, the vodka wasn’t so bad- except for the headache the next day). What’s wrong with these people? I’m just going to bide my time, use my wits, and stay a few moves ahead of everyone else- no problem. I’ve been in tougher spots and always turned up just fine.

As I let this last thought wash over me like a salve, the north door to the room, which admittedly I hadn’t even seen, flies open and machine gun spray fills the air. I hit the floor hoping I haven’t been hit. OK, maybe I was too hasty in my assumption that I’d been in tougher spots before. Actually, I’ve never had this happen. I lay still, not sure what to do. After awhile there is no sound, so I peek up over the table I had slid under and look cautiously around the room. Veronica and Ralph are not moving, and no one else is in sight. Now what?