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Excellent update! While I hate having to wait, I understand that proofreading is both important and time-consuming. I hope everything goes well. ^-*->

it'll only be after the chapter is done, not now. We've still got three parts left, so hold ya horses.

Amazing update, my friend. Truly amazing. Now Natasha's powers are explained, what will be her place in the world?

Great update! You did an excellent job at explaining...well...everything! Well, except for the classified stuff, but I think that will come later :wink: . I am beginning to like Arthur as a character 8) . Good luck on your proofreading!

if i had disposable income i would give you some! but i dont so you are gonna have to settle for a *high five*

Part Two: Old Enemies, New Friends

Jackson had been, unsurprisingly, biting his nails. The Chimera appeared –or had it been? Had he just attacked an agent? Not that it would matter at this point- and before the assassin can even fire his shot off, they’re all killed themselves, by assailants even his sharpest men couldn’t see.

It didn’t matter to him, particularly, where Natasha was anymore, or what the Chimera wanted with her. She could be on the Moon for all he cared. Now there was only one problem- would he even survive the night?

If he had once interfered with the Chimera’s plans, his own would be ruined. If he had killed the agent, he may lose an agent himself. The Chimera and his whole group of thugs believed firmly in eye for an eye philosophy.

So trying to kill the Chimera, maybe even succeeding, spelled out a very obvious future. But anyone with any amount of sense knew that attempting to kill Doctor Jackson would be harder than killing the President himself, especially now, when he was on high alert- two of his own guards stood in his office, armed, armored, and ready. Even an especially corrupt who spent most of his personal fortune on security, even his life savings, would not have to worry about any sort of break-in. But the Chimera had done it before- he could do it again. Granted, he had slightly less security at the conference, but how could he have expected the Chimera himself to act on that? Should he have searched them all? Strip searched even? His life was more important than any of their sensibilities.

The videophone rang. Jackson blinked and let it ring a couple times. The caller ID read “Unknown caller.”

There was only one person who ever called him who was listed as “Unknown caller.” And there would be no real harm in answering. The Chimera loved to talk about his own intellect, his own intelligence, his own control of every situation, and though it had never happened before, maybe- just maybe- he would give something away by accident, just this once.

He pressed a button, the screen showed a face enshrouded in darkness. Even though the outline was rough, it was far from human. The Chimera rarely did that, almost never showed even a piece of himself, unless it was something important.

“I suppose you feel very proud of yourself. Shall I take this as a sign that you wish to halt all our contracts?”

Jackson didn’t answer yet. He took his massive handgun, which he had trained on many hours a day until his aim was nearly perfect, and pocketed two extra quick loaded sets of bullets.

“It’s good that you don’t respond,” Said the Chimera. “Silence becomes one’s last moments.”

“You couldn’t break in here with an army.”

“True,” said the Chimera. “I would not allow the greatest of any six of my men to go against what you have now as security. Of course, there is still the factor of blackmail.”

“I have enough in liquid assets to live like this for years.”

“That all depends on the amount of SWAT it takes to flush you out when you’re classified by the USA as a terrorist.”

“You can’t possibly have that much information,” said Jackson. “You couldn’t be so invisible unless you destroyed all your records!”

“Really now?” Said the Chimera, laughing.

“They’d implicate you too,” he said. “With your real name.”

“That would be a problem twenty years ago, when I was the same man. Do you not yet realize that now I am no one thing? Someday when you are gone, I will remain, I will go to the few, if any loved ones you have now, in your form, to mock your memory. I will do that in remembrance of your betrayal today. Unless we can come to an agreement.”

“What do you want?” Jackson asked.

“Control,” said the Chimera. “Of your company. Under your name. You will only have one employer, one person to fund you. To the rest of the world, it will appear as if you have simply retired to a life of luxury. Only you and I will know the real goings on.”

Jackson had a difficult choice before him. He could live as a prisoner –though that would never happen- a fugitive, or a slave. He could dodge and parry any strokes given by any other traitors who dropped anonymous notes- but the Chimera had always been superior in this relationship. Always. There had been that upper hand, and it was something Jackson could never stand. And to his credit, he had taken the one chance to break away forever. One chance to be a truly free businessman.

He had failed. And now he would be punished for his failure.

“Even if the police don’t catch you, I’ll never stop hunting you. There are three third-world countries you likely haven’t even heard of where I have less than fifty agents, my own or proxies. They will all watch for you. Eventually one, or several, will find you. You may escape then, but it will only be a matter of time before you are seen. I have no intention of crawling into your rabbit hole- If you do not accept this last chance to redeem yourself, you will be flushed out. You have three hours to make your choice.”

By the end of that threat -which Jackson believed fully, to his own downfall- there was no more convincing needed. He accepted before the Chimera could even hang up the phone.

--

Doctor Alice Stayton smiled politely at the Morph who entered the room, who she already knew to be Natasha. The people said to treat her like a child rather than an animal, but Alice, who had well over a dozen pets, treated both with equal adoration, and Natasha, at first glanced, seemed like both. The two got along together quickly.

Alice was a new doctor on the project, and knew relatively little about the various experiments, less than Natasha did or even Theremin. She did not know that even though Natasha talked to her nicely, the relatively young and immature creature had the sense to know not to talk about Alice’s three affairs, about how she silently cursed every day of her life because she could never make it as a singer, about how she surrounded herself with pets because she, despite her almost display of kindness towards Natasha, detested people. She had a list of tests to run through, and she did them with obedience.

The simple things were run through first. Natasha’s physical stature was excellent. A quick treadmill run showed her cardio at a healthy rate for her size and weight, she had a virtually golden female ratio, all her organs seemed to function properly even though many of them were hybrids of both their raccoon and human equivalents. Though it would be unethical to run any tests for it, Dr, Stayton would only have been half surprised, by the end of the health check, if Natasha was still fertile, capable even of producing either type of offspring. She had no forms of detectable disease in any portion of her body, and her immune system, if reports from Theremin were to be believed, was in perfect function- she had not gotten sick once. Most Morph victims didn’t die from the Morph virus, but later infections- their altered DNA screwed up their immune systems so much many of them wound up dying from common cold. But not this one. Natasha functioned perfectly. And what was more, she was kind, bubbly, and sweet. She wasn’t the spastic, animalistic, omniphobic half-beast that Stayton had been expecting from previous Morphs that had even had the advantage of beginning as humans.

Then again, Dr. Stayton was in the dark as to what she was actually searching for. Her work was done in an hour and a half, and she delegated to other doctors as she filed through her own paperwork.

Less orthodox tests then began. Natasha didn’t know about playing cards to begin with, but she knew before her new doctors had finished explaining. They would look at the top card and ask her to tell them what it was. They gave her less and less time as they test went on. She began perfect, but when hurried began to stumble further off the track, guessing a suit or number wrong. Then they would try something different, like two different cards at the same time, which was equally hard. turning the lights out, which did nothing, and then they turned some other lights on, which did nothing, and then they walked into another room, where Natasha could only hear them, not see them, and then she could not guess the cards at first, but then, when she learned to simply remember the face of who bore that disembodied voice, she could guess them again.

Natasha realized she began to feel tired, and did not enjoy the game anymore by the time thirty minutes had passed. Though she had worked out an hour of cardio and test-weight lifting earlier with ease, it was nothing compared to the mental taxing that her current task demanded. It was the first thing since her transformation that had been honestly difficult. That was how the rest of her two and a half hours were spent, guessing cards or shapes or whatever someone was thinking at the moment. She was almost asleep from sheer tire by the end, when she half-dragged herself back to Jack’s room and, without waking him up, fell asleep almost before she hit the coach, curled up with nothing over her save her clothes.

--

“She did well,” Arthur said as he skimmed the report later that evening, standing in Libiakova’s office.

“You were sure only to put low-clearance doctors on her?”

“I’m afraid of her more than you are, Idania,” said Arthur as he re-organized the papers and handed them back to his boss.

Idania skimmed them over herself. She was a better speed reader than Arthur, and caught some interesting readouts. “Did Theremin say he trained her psychic abilities?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“She’s doing much better than…the last one.”

“Which means?”

“If that’s improved, than maybe our fatal flaw is gone as well.”

“And maybe she’s just a bigger liability. Idania, in all honesty, we both how powerful that frequency will be if she takes off the aluminum band. It may just knock her out. It may melt her brains into pudding.”

“Why not just make it send something similar to her inner ear?”

“Morphs are technically a species to themselves, and this one is no different- especially so. She may get her balance some other way, we couldn’t be sure. The frontal lobe seemed the safest bet.”

“So let’s find out how well she works in zero-G.”

“What are you suggesting?” Sigmund asked, though he already knew the answer.

A curve of a smile hit Idania’s lips. Tomorrow’s tests would be interesting.

“Oh, and remember, Sigmund,” she added, “To make sure to visit your…psychiatrist before meeting with Natasha tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t forget if Godzilla fell through my roof. Is there anything else you need?”

Idania shook her head slightly as she read further through the document, obviously pleased with the results. Sigmund took his leave.

Tomorrow would prove to be very interesting.

Great update!

Zero-G training? Ok, this I have to see.

One question. Who has the Chimera now? I thought the Chimera was captured. Perhaps I misread the last chapter.

And Arthur going to a psychiatrist. Hmm...sounds suspicious (strokes chin supciciously).

Arthur and Idania just became my two favourite characters.
next to the Chimera, of course.

Damn, I should probably have stated that those were his own agents. I must have missed that... *puts that on his list of things to edit*

Part Three: Cause and Effect, pt. I

The Chimera’s deal had been commenced within hours. Jackson had cut off all his business connections from first to last. Some of them, he knew, would put him in a bad position- they weren’t all with people who didn’t mind killing. He put all his assets in a bank account he and the Chimera had access to- that had been the deal. As soon as he did, about 90% of his five hundred million dollar fortune disappeared. The withdrawal was entitled “Thank you.”

He was told to keep his security staff, that he would need them soon, more than usual. He didn’t understand. He hardly cared anymore. He had survived, and that was what he was, what he would always be- a survivor.

He stood cooped up in his office more than usual, afraid that one of the Order would come, because he couldn’t refuse them anymore. And his fears were realized on the fourth day of his plan. A ring at the door he didn’t want to answer.

One of them walked straight in the door, something that a week ago, would have been a feat requiring a platoon of armed men. He had strolled through that gauntlet without being perturbed in the slightest way. It had been blackmail that had

This agent stood confidently, not with any of the arbitrary staggers or limps or other things that Morphs were known for. He was specially engineered to function not only normally, but better than before- and it was a modification that the Chimera had made carefully, had written and re-written, had used on willing subjects and killed those willing subjects if it wasn’t exactly how he wanted it.

This one walked with an unnerving silence but stood over seven feet tall, and was almost four feet wide with muscle. Tough grey skin covered him- it was obvious that there was some type of elephant, or rhino DNA involved. His head seemed unchanged in form, except for its strange texture still mostly resembling that of a human being.

“I bear a message from the Chimera,” he said.

“Why doesn’t he contact me himself?” Jackson said, trying to act confident. He wondered if that skin would stop his bullets. Of course it wouldn’t, Jackson said to himself. Even a real rhino or elephant’s skin couldn’t stop that kind of firepower. He still felt nervous, even though the massive handgun, which he had carefully trained himself to use, was but a wrist’s length away.

“Because he has decided not to,” the half-being said, in a tone that was low and gruff, intimidating.

“What does he wish to tell me?”

“That I, and other cohorts, shall reside in your home from this point forward. That you are to take no actions against us, and that, while we cannot order you, neither can you order us. This home is to be as ours.”

“You can’t-” He had almost said it, but again that irrational fear gripped him.

“Can’t what? You fool. The Chimera is above all laws. He is a god, for he keeps no flesh form and may reside in all things. He has presented himself as mortal to you, for you would never believe him, and to see him in his glory would only blind you.”

Jackson had forgotten how utterly fanatic the Chimera’s followers would be. And still, the Chimera would put them to death at the slightest sign of irreverence or lie.

“We shall stay here. And we shall carry out the work and word of the Chimera. You will be informed only of what you need to be informed of. If we require services of any kind, they shall be expected. To do otherwise is to work against the Chimera, which is death.”

Jackson nodded. “I understand,” he said.

“And remember,” the rhino skinned thing said, coming closer so that Jackson could take into account that this being’s head alone was almost as large as his shoulder width- “We may have to treat you as equals, but to me, and to all the Chimera’s children, you are filth. It would not be advisable to take an…unsavory attitude. I have been known to crush you Statics for lesser things, and I am considered the more patient of my brothers.”

The revolver was in Jackson’s hand now. He dared not even switch off the safety, or take it into view, or even look at it. He just stared into the things steely eyes with unadulterated fear running through every vein of his body.

“That is all,” the being said, and left with the same bizarre, unfitting quiet. It was a while before Jackson could let some of the fear flow away from him.

So that’s what they cal a normal human being, he thought, trying to relieve some of his fear with disgust. A Static, because we don’t change our forms. Jackson knew that whatever the Chimera was planning, he would have his fun humiliating his former companion first. And Jackson also knew that as long as he stayed here, he made his death inevitable, even if prolonged. Once he was no longer needed, they would carry out their final judgment- death. The Order looked on traitors as the worst things in the world- for if one could betray and sin against the Chimera, he would betray anyone, even the poorest of widows and most pitiful of orphans. And such a being couldn’t exist. He wondered if being a Static only added to the pile, or if it gave him some kind of extrication- at least he wasn’t ever really part of the club to begin with. It would mean his death would probably be less painful.

It took Jackson a while, but he had finally decided on when to escape. He reminded himself that the powerful bullets in his gun would pierce through that thing like a knife through hot butter, sending his thin blood gushing from his front and back like a barrel of wine broken in the bottom. He reminded himself that their strength came from the fear they imposed more than anything.

And he knew, in the back of his mind, he would forget all those things instantly upon seeing one of them, or any of them, again, as he would be gripped by that same insane fear.

The day passed, and Jackson called for all his food and drink for that day to be brought to his office. If it was poisoned, he wouldn’t have known, and he realized it could have been (though it wasn’t) later, and reminded himself to get all his food himself next time, even though it would mean potentially meeting those things, those massive hulks, each of which harbored a perfectly sincere and well-deserved hatred for him.

He was in a precarious position. And he knew that the Chimera had already considered the possibility of what was probably one of his better assets turning tail. That was the main problem- the Chimera had probably posted these men so that Jackson wouldn’t try anything. And there was something else Jackson knew, too- if those men felt the same utter fear he did, they wouldn’t be standing next to him to protect him if those things turned hostile.

But he knew one thing- it was doom to stay here. He would survive, or die trying- those would be two possibilities until his deathbed. There was no cause Nathan Jackson would ever be willing to die for. No cause he would make the ultimate sacrifice for. Nothing was worse than death, because to Nathan Jackson it was the end.

And he could not face the end.

--

“This is the only way?” Arthur said, in disgust.

“I’m afraid so,” responded his psychiatrist. “Idania said to give you these for inspiration.” He handed him several copies of Playboy.

“That’s definitely not necessary. At all.”

“If you can hold your concentration to something else, then fine. That’s all she’ll get if she just scans surface thoughts. But nothing will concentrate the subconscious parts of your brain more than, well…” he gestured to the magazines. “And that’s what you need. She may just enter your mind for fun. You’d never know it.”

“Fine,” said Arthur. “But I’m not taking the magazines. God forgive me…”

“I’m sure he will,” the shrink responded.

“Aren’t you an atheist?”

“Yes, but God doesn’t have to be objective, you know.”

“If He isn’t, then I-” Arthur cut short.

“Almost told me something personal there, didn’t you?”

“I came here for one reason. After this, we won’t be seeing each other again. Preferably ever. I don’t like being examined, especially not by people expert in doing things that have a way of pissing me off.”

“Were you ever married?”

Arthur glared at the man now, with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Don’t ask that question to me again,” he said in an even tone. “ever.”

--

“I’m alone,” said the voice, that of a young girl that sounded like Natasha. It echoed through a thousand hallways. “It’s dark here.”

I stood in a hallway that had only the dimmest of lights, which even then, were occasionally flickering off.

“Natasha?” I asked. No response.

I felt myself moving backwards. I noticed rusty-looking stains, a coppery, rotten smell…it was blood. All around the walls, dried and crusted from deaths long past.

“I just don’t want to be alone anymore. Don’t leave, please!” But the voice got further away. I tried to go to her, but I was being dragged out of the corridor by some invisible force that kept me suspended. I moved impossibly quick through an elevator, realizing I had gone straight through the wall without damaging it, then to my floor, then to my room and my bed. I could have sworn I felt the speed and impact even after I woke up almost screaming Natasha’s name.

I was in a cold sweat. All the lights were out, except for the single window through which the moon let me borrow some of her secondhand sunlight.

I used what little light there was to find a switch and turn the room lights on.

I turned to the couch, fear shooting through every part of my body, which left me feeling pins and needles.

Natasha was stirring. I had woken her up with my scream, if not the lights. I sighed audibly, and caught my breath. I normally never dreamed, and if I did, not vividly or in any memorable way. Why had there been warnings that we would have bad dreams here, anyway?

“Are you okay?”

She gave an “mm-hmm,” as an answer as she wiped sleep from her eyes. “Just a bad dream.”

“Were you in the garage again?” I said, now making eye contact. She shook her head.

“Not the garage. I was somewhere else. A hallway. And there was blood. And I heard someone asking for help.”

“Was it me?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “It was me.”

“Don’t worry, dreams can’t hurt you.”

“I know,” she said. “I knew that before I-” she seemed to hit an uncomfortable snag, but she went on. “Before I changed.”

I put my hand on her head.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked.

I nodded. “Let me turn off the lights. We still need to sleep for tomorrow.”

She nodded. I got up, flipped the switch, and then felt my way back to the coach. She curled up next to me. I fell asleep sitting up at six thirty, when the sun was coming into view. I woke up less than an hour later due to Natasha’s own coaxing, as she had woken up ten minutes before the alarm. She was up smiling, with no thought of nightmares, as far as I could tell. “Wake up!” She said. “They brought breakfast early.”

--

Natasha had realized, as she ate her breakfast, that the Command had stopped. She didn’t care why- it was the most enslaving thing in the world. It had started a day or so before she went to Jack’s house. It ended when they reached this place. Perhaps there was something that kept it from happening here. Whatever it was, it meant she was happy to be alive now. She wasn’t in pain the second she didn’t read something. She wondered if the headband helped.

--

“Is our plane ready?” Idania asked, walking to the office as she talked.

“Yes ma’am,” Arthur said. “I hope this is really worth it.”

“I want to make sure we don’t kill the girl on accident. And we should bring the doctor along too- he may be able to help us.”

“More than our own researchers?”

“He’s spent more time with her than anyone else. He knows her better than anyone else in the universe, even though it’s pretty poor competition.”

“Your decision,” Arthur said, with a resigned sound. “I won’t have to go back there, will I?”

“No, you won’t.”

“Tried to make me look at Playboy. That’s the second time now. I thought you told him not to do that.”

Idania didn’t know whether to sympathize or laugh. The thought of someone trying to make Arthur do anything of the sort seemed like trying to get a rhinoceros to ballet. Arthur Sigmund, the conservative Roman Catholic, looking at a Playboy.

She chose the latter, but only inside. She hadn’t laughed out loud for fifteen years, she wasn’t going to start now. She had taken the magazines offered to her- though she wasn’t much for such self-indulgence herself, she knew that having fornication on the mind was a lot better than having all her corporate secrets in the hands of an unpredictable, genius 2-year-old. It had been an older girl last time, but it would still have been the same mistake twice, something that Idania would never make. She could have stayed, but this was something that she had wanted to do for a while.

She rang the doorbell. Natasha showed up first, timidly opening the door.

Great update!
Please excuse my lack of a critique; I'm very lazy, and there isn't much for you to worry about, methinks.

It's pretty good that you've gotten me interested though; I tend to avoid the more modern-day stories in favor of fantasy and sci-fi.

Nice read. The part about the Playboy magazines kind of confused me at first. Also, I had no trouble with your description of the elephant man (:lol:), but then you suddenly said his head was almost as wide as Jackson's shoulders? :shock:

that should have been shoulder width. >_<

EDIT: Ah, I see. Shoulder width is the width from one shoulder to the other, not just the width of one shoulder.

Yeah. Other than that, loved the elephant man. Hope to see more of him and his ilk.

(very) Early update ftw.

Part Three (continued): Cause and Effect, pt. II

“Hi Natasha,” said Idania, in the most kid-friendly voice she could muster. Being a cosmopolitan of sorts, it wasn’t that hard. She had seen mothers before. “My name’s Dr. Libiakova.”

It took a bit of self-training to keep the erotic image inside her head and talk to Natasha without distraction, but she had been practicing, and she was very good at it now. Arthur stared straight ahead with a tight-lipped, emotionless face. Both of them knew that Natasha had to be looking, or trying to look, in their minds. It was plain on her expression and reaction.

--

Natasha looked, but all she saw were strange images of mating. She quickly let a shudder go through her body and stopped looking, and when she tried to do it to the man, who was the same as the one who had threatened her before, the same thing occurred, though it was a different image.

Humans were amazing, but they were fairly disgusting too.

“I’m sorry, Natasha, but we can’t let you see what’s up here,” Idania said nicely. Natasha nodded, and for the first time, realized that she was invading territory that was worth more than a simple lair when she did that. She would try and be more selective. And besides, she didn’t want to have either of those images broadcast to her head for any longer. Just thinking about thinking about them almost sent another shudder through her.

“Let’s go,” she said, disoriented.

“Ah, but there’s a surprise. Jack gets to come too.”

Immediately Natasha brightened, her old thoughts forgotten. I pretended not to hear, to give Natasha the pleasure of telling me. She jumped around, excited beyond measure.

She was still jumping and running around in sheer excitement when I came to the door to ask exactly why I was coming, then realized…

That doctor was a Morph. Not just a partial one. A full one, with heavy cranial alterations. She shouldn’t have been able to talk, let alone have a Ph.D.

“How did you…?”

“I suppose it’d be unfair not to tell you. You know when something has a one in a billion chance of happening?”

I nodded.

“I’m the one.”

“You’re the CEO of this place too.”

“Natasha doesn’t seem to remember.”

“She does. She doesn’t forget anything. Anyways, what are you taking me for?”

“You know Natasha, and the more you give us, the faster you’ll be out of here.”

I was smart enough not to ask about Natasha, however.

“Get dressed in something more presentable, Doctor. We’re going to be launching into space, after all, you should at least look presentable.”

Shock crossed my face. “We’re going into space?”

“Zero-G balance tests. For Natasha. We might run a bit late, if you don’t mind. We do have to land in at least approximately the same place.”

I sure as hell didn’t. I had always wanted to go into space, see the world from a massively high vantage point. It was one of my dreams I figured I would never realize. I was rich, but not that rich. Space planes were still expensive as hell, especially ones that would have enough room to do physical tests!

“Lemme get dressed,” I said, already smiling. I was a captive, but at least something interesting had happened.

I was dressed within a minute or so, through all of which Natasha practically danced through. She banged on the door asking if I was done yet, multiple times. I was too excited to be annoyed or angry for any real span.

I came from the bathroom in all that they had offered me- a one-size-fits-all white jumpsuit. It wasn’t comfortable, was far from flashy, but it kept me warm and clothed, and I wasn’t exactly in a criticizing mood. I wasn’t quite as excited as Natasha, but I imagined a part of me was.

--

We took an elevator to the lobby, then simply walked out the door into a car, in which we drove to a hanger. There was another that followed us, apparently full of researchers. I noticed that Sigmund was armed, though not with a rifle like last time, just a small handgun. Apparently, we weren’t totally trusted yet, even though they were letting me tag along for the ride.

Natasha stared at the passing hangers, and some of the planes, watched as one took off. “Are we going in those?”

I nodded. We continued down the road for some time before we finally reached our hanger, which, despite my knowing its contents, looked pretty much the same as all the others.

Until we entered. Technically, the first real “Space Plane” was the Space Shuttle, but that still required a rig to begin a vertical assent. It caused a needless amount of smoke and fire, which meant you’d have to be almost a mile away to keep from being incinerated. They made them more efficient, so that they could take off and land like normal airplanes. And then they made them cheaper. Mantle mining was almost as much of a world advance as the Morph virus was a set back.

This particular model looked brand new. It had a triangular shape, and was a good bit larger than a normal light aircraft. Its exterior was white on top, black on bottom- that had been the general idea for all spacecraft, reflect away heat from the top, let the bottom, heat-resistant part absorb it. It could easily go into orbit, and if we had a few days of supplies and time to spare, we could have reached the moon colonies, though having two Morphs on board would probably cause issues. They were as phobic about the Morph virus as anyone.

Needless to say, I knew that wasn’t what we would be doing here. The second team of researchers came out from their vehicle.

We entered. The first thing I noticed was that there was a single ring in the very back- it looked something like a balance beam bent into a circle. In front of it were seats, which had a width in between them I wouldn’t have been able to perceive from the exterior.
“Sit down and buckle,” Sigmund said curtly. We followed his orders. Two of the people who were driving with us entered what seemed to be a pilot cabin. It had room for a pilot and a copilot, and was surrounded with dials and numbers I didn’t understand.

Sigmund and Idania took flanking sides of the craft, which had two double column, six-seat rows opposite one another. Me and Natasha sat next to each other. Natasha didn’t seem to like the seat, and liked the seatbelt less. I remembered she had the same problem every time we buckled up and went from one hotel to the next on the journey from the gas station in Pennsylvania. It felt like years ago, but I realized it couldn’t have been more than a month and a half. When I, without thinking, took her into my own protection and saved her from inevitably being captured by someone else. Or maybe I had just imprisoned her again- that thought had come to me. I remembered her working feverishly in my house to learn as much as she could about everything around her, in the month she was there going from learning her numbers to doing algebra so fast that she would forget what came after ninety-nine but remember the quadratic equation.

I looked at her as she almost visibly shivered once more, for a reason I couldn’t understand. I realized the fact that she could’ve started her own family if she had stayed where she was when I saw her didn’t matter. She was only two years old. Everything she knew about us, she had learned in the span of two months, most of those in the custody of someone who couldn’t have cared less about her.

She took that remarkably well, I realized. I also noted how she didn’t seem to fit in any particular age category- her face still carried the cherubic features of extreme youth, and if that was all you could’ve seen, you wouldn’t have guessed she was older than eight. But her body was built like that of an especially small fourteen-year-old, and her mind was perhaps in the same position.

I heard Idania try to get my attention. And again I realized that, even though one of my personal dreams was about to come true, these people would be my enemy the second they tried to take Natasha. They would kill me first, if they planned to take her.

“Doctor Theremin.”

I wasn’t snapped from my thoughts this time, but I came to face them slowly and deliberately. “Yes?” I asked.

“You should both know that we’ll be having some very serious turbulence as we leave the atmosphere.”

“Alright.”

“Pressurizing cabin now.” There was a hissing sound. Natasha covered her ears. I pat her head to get her to see me.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s what they’ve got to do, when you leave the Earth’s atmosphere- ah, it’s tough to explain…”

“If it wasn’t happening,” Sigmund said to her, “We’d pop like balloons.”

Still Natasha was confused. “She doesn’t know what a balloon is,” I explained.

Then Natasha showed that look of realization. “Now I do!” she said happily.

Sigmund’s lips turned tight. Idania shot him a glare and tossed him a magazine. “I want to see your head in those pages at all times,” she said. “And don’t say anything else, to anyone else.”

Sigmund seemed to blush red, and became tight-lipped as well. Idania closed her eyes and sighed heavily.

We were all passed headsets by one of the attendants, Natasha included. “Keep them on,” he said. “You’ll be needing them if you want to hear us.”

Then he put one last one on for himself after passing them out and took a seat in the back, where a bunch of other labcoats were seated as well.

I heard the engine turn on, but it was muffled by the massive earpieces. The hanger door was open- we passed through.

We turned to an especially large runway. “Beginning ascent,” said the pilot.

Natasha had never felt that kind of speed before. “We’re going high up,” I said to her through the radio. “Like birds, but much higher.”

How high? She sent me with her mind. I shook my head- she knew what I meant. They shouldn’t know that we could still communicate. She used the radio piece, having seen me do it before.

“How high?” she asked.

I smiled. “Very. You have a problem with heights?”

She shook her head.

“Good.”

We gained speed. Natasha’s face showed pure fear. I put a hand on hers.

We took off. “All fusion engines look great. Power source nominal, oxygen supply is currently 99.98%. Should be enough if any emergencies happen.”

The airport got smaller and smaller, until it was a dot behind us. Natasha seemed less confused now, and more curious as she tried to take a look

“We’re going to be reaching very extreme velocities,” explained another one of the still-anonymous attendants. “The craft has a few gadgets here to reduce shaking, but it’s still going to be a bumpy ride. I hope you didn’t have too much for breakfast.”

I sighed. I had eaten not expecting a lunch. I wasn’t too much of a cherry for heights, but still, an immature part of me that had lingered since seventh grade wondered how vomit would look in zero-G.

I heard a gigantic boom. “We have broken the sound barrier.” I looked outside. I saw the world at a sideways angle, though not a perfect one. Natasha was absorbed, though she had to edge up in her seat to see through the window, which had caused her to fall back down quickly. I pitched in on the radio and told her to keep her butt on the chair for the time being, though I figured I wouldn’t have to tell her twice.

I felt shaking all around me. I kept my head set on the window and fought back the stomach lurches. We were in the clouds, and then the clouds were below us. Our speed alone had caused them to spiral toward us. We entered the stratosphere, and the curvature of the world began to show itself to us.

In what seemed like both no time at all and an eternity all at once, I saw the blue tint leave the atmosphere, slowly but surely.

“We have reached Mach 7.”

“Roger that.”

“We have reached 90 degree yaw. We will be entering the thermosphere in 5.”

Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw the blinking light of a satellite in the distance. I couldn’t see most of Earth anymore, but I knew it was there.

Natasha didn’t seem quite as excited as I was. She was wide-eyed and stared straight ahead, refusing to look at the window. I could practically see her heart trying to beat right out of her chest.

And, then, as the dying roar of a predator whose prey was finally lost, the shaking stopped. Gravity had grudgingly let us go. Human beings had been escaping its grasp for almost a hundred years, but that didn’t stop the old mistress from trying her best.

I was no longer pinned by gravity. I felt like I was swimming, though I did feel a bit cold.

“That cold feeling will pass,” the attendant said. “Temperature should be fully regulated to 70 degrees Fahrenheit within a few seconds.”

“Setting 135 degree yaw,” the pilot said. I looked over to the cockpit window, and saw that the Earth was below us, a blue orb with the continents standing there in emerald beauty. “Geosynchronous orbit established.”

“You may unbuckle your seatbelts now.”

I checked Natasha, who was still blinking away the nausea. She unclipped herself, and gasped and smiled as she floated free.

“We’ll give you a few minutes to get situated.”

I felt free, unlike any feeling I’d ever had before. I let myself rebound off a wall and fly across the cabin at a floating pace.

I gazed again at the Earth. It couldn’t have been described as anything but beautiful. And even then, that word seemed to have a lack of justice. It was a feeling of pure bliss, pure cosmos.

“Jack,” Natasha asked. I turned.

“Why does it look like…it always looked flat when we stood on it.”

I nodded. “That’s how big it is.”

“Can we go outside?” She said, for all to hear.

There were instant cries of “No,” some exasperated, some instantaneous and fearful.

“We should probably start her on her exercises, Doctor. Natasha, when you first saw outside the cockpit window, did you feel dizzy?”

“I was still feeling sick from when we were going up,” she said evenly. “But it didn’t make me feel any worse.”

“Alright, Natasha. We’re going to do something real quick.” One of the attendants brought out a large pair of boots. They put them on her, and they commanded her to stand on the ground, facing the cockpit window. She did so. “Do you feel dizzy now?” they asked.

She nodded. “A little.”

They did a bunch of other things, including using the circular balance beam, which she loved. The amount of detail would make it boring.

I noticed the magazine that Sigmund had been handed was pornography. Idania had given it to him so commandingly. I noticed that he had blushed a lot too- he didn’t want to take it, or read it, and kept his eyes off the naked pictures and mostly on the editorials, trying to keep his eyes and mind occupied. A chaste type of person, or so I figured. But then why the hell would he be given a Playboy?

No answers, so I stopped trying to find them and turned my attention to a beauty that wasn’t from people who needed to whore themselves out because they couldn’t get real jobs.

Hours came and went. I spent them alternating between checking on Natasha and marveling at the beauty below me, which never seemed to stop grabbing my attention. The white clouds moved as slow but graceful swans, with the wind as their wings. The blue atmosphere was like a crown upon Mother Earth’s head. But as I said before, words could never do it justice.

The time passed quickly. It was not long before we were to be home in a half-hour. “Our tests are finished,” the attendant said.

“Does anyone have a camera? I’d…really like a picture,” I asked, as timidly as I could.

“Here, Doctor,” said Idania, generously offering me a small, silvery camera that read “20 Megapixels” on the side. I took it in my hands delicately, made my way to the cockpit, and snatched a couple shots.

I handed it back to her. She took it and took the memory card out. “Keep this,” she said. “It’s empty otherwise. You’ll want it more than I ever will- I can come out here anytime I want, practically.”

“Doesn’t it cost a bit?” I said. I was well off myself, but I could hardly afford to even rent a trip up here (there was a lot of hazard pay that pilots demanded, considering the dangers of the slightest depressurization)

“Nothing I can’t afford,” she responded with humility. “We’re going home now, so I’d rebuckling. If there’s something worse than the exit, it’s re-entry.”

I nodded and floated back to my seat. The portholes were shut automatically. Natasha sat next to me- ironically, I got the window seat this time.

It was a bumpy ride. I felt gravity return after a while. I held tight to my seat, and Natasha held tight to hers. And to my arm, which gave me bright red lines of blood from her claw marks, which were made by accident, to her favor. That didn’t make them hurt any less when I actually had the chance to feel them, though.

Soon the shaking stopped. The portholes opened again. We were already below the clouds, and the hanger was in plain view. Natasha was looking queasy and a little fearful, though less of the latter and more of the former than before.

Don’t throw up in the plane. Don’t throw up in the plane. I kept on sending the message, hoping she would register.

She did, and managed to keep it down. We landed beautifully and rolled back into the hanger, watched as the large door closed from behind us and the inner lights came back on.

I stumbled a bit walking out. I had just received a moment that I would never be able to re-create, and I wasn’t sure if that was a sad truth, or if it made it all the sweeter.

And upon that thought was when Natasha threw up everything she had eaten that morning all over the hanger floor. I pat her back a few times, unsure of what to say or do.

“Will she be alright?” Idania asked, in all seriousness.

“She’s just queasy,” I responded. Natasha looked up, possibly to say something, but wound up vomiting again. Luckily, she desisted before we got in the car. Not the most glamorous ending to a life-changing experience I could have asked for, but what the hell.