Chapter 1

The stark grey walls of the interrogation room should have been covered in frost; I couldn’t see how they weren’t. The cold permeated the entire room. I began thinking of the other people who sat in this chair before me, the war criminals, the Axis military officers, the murderers. They probably put someone in here, turned the temperature down ten degrees and let them sit. How many of those criminals broke because of the temperature alone? With what I’d done, was I one of those people? Was I a war criminal, a murderer?

I fidgeted in the seat a little, wondering when my captors…no, that wasn’t the right word. Calling them my captors said I didn’t come here of my own free will. Rescuers? No, that implied that they actually had some kind of substantial hand in getting me to where I was now. Defenders? Closer, but still didn’t seem to describe them properly. Hosts? Yeah, that summed them up pretty well right now. My hosts, yes, that was the right phrase. How long were they going to let me sit here alone? Probably another tactic they employed to make people talk, leave them alone for a long time, let their thoughts run wild.

How long had I been in here? My gaze shifted from the table in front of me to my wrist interface sitting just to the right. The time sat frozen like it had for the last who knows how long. A red ‘x’ covered the dynamic symbol that displayed signal strength. They were jamming incoming wireless signals and the chances were high that they would be blocking any outgoing signals as well. That just made sense; they couldn’t allow transmissions from inside an interrogation room. Otherwise, any hacker worth their salt could enter the room and mess everything up.

I brought my knee into my chest. My chin found the divot between the metal plates, the artificial muscles and the synthetic nerves that made up my leg below mid-thigh. My arms crossed at the wrist as my fingers wrapped around the metal of my foot. My faded, mud spattered, scuffed black leather boots sat on the floor next to the chair. Some of the leather pieces all but worn through and ready to fall off. My eyes traced the edges of the brunt skin on my arms. The dark edges outlined cherry red skin near the point of blistering. The burnt plastic smell of explosives wafted off my skin, irritating my nose.

Time passed slowly, slower than it should have gone. The minutes became hours which might have become days, I was not entirely sure anymore. For whatever reason, I couldn’t grow accustomed to the cold. Goose bumps covered what little unburnt skin I had left. I thought they were still turning the temperature down. Was that my breath clouding in the air? Yes, I think it is. It was not doing that a minute ago, or was it an hour?

I scanned the room once more, my gaze landing on the grey door next to the large black window on the wall. My hosts were probably behind that pane of glass, watching me with interest. I allowed my foot to slide from the chair and crossed my arms on the table. I rested my head on my arms so I could see the door. My eyelids grew heavy as I waited.

The silence of the room made the soft click of the lock on the door eight times louder than it should have been. I sat up as the door opened and a man walked in. He wore a military uniform but the stuff in his hands held my attention: a bottle of water and a blanket. He set them down on the table between us and took a seat.

“Hello,” he said.

I nodded. Could I trust this man? His entire being radiated confidence and authority. The way he held himself gave me the impression he owned the place: his chin raised, shoulders back, back straight, lips pursed in a thin line. All the traits of a man who held authority, demanded respect and knew that everyone below him would give it without hesitation. For all I knew, he did own the place, or was in charge of it at the very least. Despite this outward show of power and confidence, his green eyes were like that of a father. They looked gentle and kind but at the same time, fiercely protective.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked. He held the bottle out to me. I stared at the bottle and then looked up at the man. I motioned down to the bottle with my eyes and then back up to him. A small frown crossed his lips and he pulled the bottle back. He opened the bottle and lifted it to his lips. A small trickle of water ran down his chin as he took a small sip from it and then replaced the cap. He placed the bottle on the table in front of me.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

I looked up at him and raised a questioning eyebrow, giving him my best are-you-an-idiot look. He pushed the blanket across the table towards me and I took it. The fabric brushed against my raw shoulders as I tucked it around me. The tingles of pain that crawled under my skin barely bothered me anymore.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

I looked down and licked my chapped lips. In my peripheral vision I saw his fingertips double tap on the table top. A luminescent blue computer keyboard illuminated on the shiny, grey surface and a thin holoscreen appeared between us. He tapped away at the keyboard with two fingers, swearing under his breath.

“I apologize, I’m not really good at this,” he said with a small chuckle. I knew he was only trying to lighten the mood but I was sitting in a room cold enough that I could see my breath and I was being interrogated. He would have to do a little more than display pitiful typing skills to lighten the mood. He tapped a few more keys and an image popped up on the screen. The picture came from a sentry ‘bot based on the angle, probably one of the target identification cameras. The blood streaked face put a pang of guilt into my stomach.

"Who is she?” he asked. When I remained silent, he added: “You clearly care a lot about her, giving yourself up like you did. Who is she?”

“Victoria,” I muttered without meaning to.

“The doctor’s say Victoria will be alright,” he said. “She’s very lucky. They say she lost a lot of blood. She might not have made it if you didn’t do what you did. Her doctor wants to know the name of the woman who shamelessly threw herself to the mercy of sentry ‘bots while clutching an injured woman and wearing armor that identified her as an enemy. I know I do too, so, what’s your name?”

I maintained my silence and pulled the blanket a little tighter around myself.

“If I turned the temperature up, would you tell me your name then?” he asked.

I nodded slowly. I never thought I’d admit it, but I missed the warmth of the sun on my skin. The man tapped a few more keys on the table in front of him and made a slow swiping motion up. Slowly I stopped seeing our breath in the air and the goose bumps faded. He waved his hand over the keyboard and the screen vanished.

“Tawny,” I muttered into the table.

“Hello, Tawny. My name is Commander Aaron Ryan, you can call me Aaron, or Commander Ryan if my first name deters you,” he said. “Where did you live before you came here?”

It dawned on me that he wanted me to spill Axis secrets to him. Help him win the war or something like that. Not that it mattered, anything I could tell him someone on the Alliance military in some kind of power position already knew. If things kept going the way that they were, the Alliance would cruise into the capitol within a year, with or without my help. Right now, all I wanted to do involved a bed, a pillow and twelve uninterrupted hours and then get on with my life, what little of it I had left.  And Vitoria, Vicki, she needed to be okay.

“If I tell you what you want, can…” my voice trailed off.

“Can what?” Aaron asked.

I shook my head rapidly, running my hand through my hair. “Never mind, you can’t help me.”

Aaron stood and pulled his chair around until he sat next to me, facing me. He took a seat and leaned forward. “Tawny, I have been authorized to give you anything you want in turn for your cooperation with me…” His gaze landed on my feet as he trailed off.

I followed his gaze down to my metal feet and tucked my feet underneath the chair to try to shift them from view. His gaze shifted up, tracing along my legs and then onto my back. I could feel the smooth, metal on metal sliding over itself as I curled my toes it like it actually made a difference.

“Maybe not anything,” he said.

“What do you want out of me?” I asked. “State secrets, new troop deployments, computer codes, something like that?”

Aaron leaned back in his seat, obliviously trying to keep himself from staring at the bionics. His lips twitched and his eyes began to slide towards my legs for a brief moment before he brought them back to my face.

“Tawny, I’ve sat here with hundreds of hardened criminals and every single one of them has done something wrong, something terrible to deserve to sit in that seat. The only reason you are sitting there now is that I need information, information only you can tell me.”

I sniffled a little and blinked a few times, staring at him hoping I looked intrigued and not pitiful. “Oh?” I asked. I sounded pitiful as I tried not allow a whimper enter my voice. “What information could I offer you that an Axis officer couldn’t? I’m nothing special.”

A smile crossed Aaron’s lips and he reached out. His fingers brushed my hand sending a sharp spike of pain through my skin. I pulled my hand away quickly, wrapping my fingers around my wrist and hugging it into my chest. My teeth closed over the top knuckle on my thumb as I kept myself from crying out.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said as he pulled his hands back. “What you don’t understand Tawny is that we haven’t seen one of you in a long time. You’re rare and always carry a unique story that’s full of valuable information, whether you know it or not. Please, help us and I promise I will do everything in my power to ensure no more harm comes to you.”

I nodded and looked over to him. “What do you mean?”

“Defectors are a rare sight these days, especially ones coming from deep in the Interior,” Aaron said.

I nodded slowly, carefully turning this newest piece of information over in my head, processing it as slowly as I dared. The Interior, so that’s what the Alliance was calling inside their ever present, ever tightening bubble. Of course there were fewer defectors now than there had been at the beginning of the war that only made sense. The smart and affluent got out while they could and left those of us behind that didn’t or couldn’t get out.

I chose my next words carefully. “And what is it I can tell you?”

“The details of your defection,” he said. “How you got here.”

I met his request with silence as I sat unmoving in the chair. The past year wound through my head to a blur as I tried to comprehend how I would get him everything. What was important and what wasn’t? What was vital information to help him win the war and liberate the friends I’d left behind and what was pointless and an unnecessary waste of time? It almost didn’t seem like a fair question to ask. Tell me everything you know.

“How much do I have to say?” I asked. It sounded petty, but there are things I didn’t want to remember. Things that made me those all of those people that sat in this chair before me. Things that made me a murderer, a war criminal, a traitor. I didn’t want to remember those things, but even as I tried to force them away, they surged to the forefront of my mind.

“As much as you want,” Aaron said. “I won’t force you to talk about things you don’t want to but I will ask if I think it holds some kind of importance.”

My hands fell into my lap and I bit my lip as I considered it. I found my head nodding slowly, my vision no longer blurry with tears. “Okay,” I said. My voice sounded distant, like I was hearing myself from underwater. “I’ll tell you.”

"Alright, I will be recording this. It's standard procedure," Aaron said. He made a few taps on the tabletop and then motioned to me. "The camera's are now recording, you can begin when you are ready."

“I really don’t know where to start. I mean obviously the beginning but, which beginning? The beginning of my life, should I start there? That seems a little early and could pretty much be summed up in a few sentences. I don’t think it really pertains to why I defected.”

Aaron pulled a pack of cigarettes from his top breast pocket and held it out to me. I shook my head and he took one from the cartridge.

“Should I start at the beginning of my short lived military career? I mean, that could be summed up in a few choice words too, so I don’t think I’ll start there, it just seems like added time and there’s nothing new you don’t already know in there. So, I guess I could start with when I joined the resistance. I think I can get everything across that I think you’ll want to know. Yes, that seems like the best place to start…”