Breathe in

Trapped

Fired. Insubordination.

Jenny mouthed the words to herself, reading them off of the notice in her office. It had taken a week, but here it was. Fired. Leaving the Garrison. No, being thrown from the Garrison, all because she dared help someone in need.

Who's going to help Keith now?

I'm sorry, I really am. I should've gotten you out before this happened. I shouldn't have waited- the risk would have been worth it.

I'm sorry, Keith.

Xxx

"Iverson."

Commander Iverson looked up as Admiral Sanda entered his office and snapped to attention—if it was a bit less respectful than usual, well, who would be able to tell? "Admiral."

"Walk with me."

Iverson followed her down the hallways. "Ma'am?"

"Two weeks ago, you were sent on a search and retrieve mission for ex-cadet Keith Kogane. You came back with a report that he was dead."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Right, well, then. Perhaps you can explain why we found him very much alivein Doctor Jennifer Orla's house?!"

Cadet! What were you thinking?! "I cannot explain, Admiral."

"You're lucky you're such a good commander," Sanda growled as they entered a mostly-unused hallway that now had a few scientists scurrying around, "Otherwise, I'd have you transferred or maybe even discharged." She nodded to a window.

Iverson peered in, and his heart sank. He'd hoped that maybe Sanda was angry because Kogane had gotten away. No such luck. There he was, hooked up to a treadmill, jogging at a fast pace.

"He has a lot more stamina than we expected," Sanda remarked calmly.

Iverson took another look and saw that Keith was panting heavily, sweat soaking through his shirt and plastering his hair to his face and neck, his eyes wild with exhaustion. He was favoring his left leg, and Iverson wondered how he was still standing on his injured ankle. "How long have you had him running?"

Sanda looked at her watch. "We'd be near the end of the third day, now."

"Three days?! Have you let him have a break?"

"No, Commander. That's the point. I want to see how long he can go on."

"Food? Water?"

"Not since day one."

"You're going to kill him! Running for three days straight at that pace is a human maximum withfood and water!" Iverson frowned. "What happens if he just stops? Refuses to run?"

"We had a problem with that on the first day." Admiral Sanda remote-controlled the treadmill to go up a speed suddenly. Keith stumbled, and the line connecting him to the treadmill sparked with electricity, giving Keith a small electric shock. Keith gripped the handrails of the treadmill tightly as he regained his balance, his feet thumping back into a pattern on the treadmill. He released the handrail, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Incidentally," Sanda said thoughtfully, "We learned that electricity burns him purple."

Iverson watched in horror. "You know he has asthma? You're going to set him off, pushing him like this!"

Sanda nodded. "Look at his eyes."

Iverson did. They were yellow, the irises snakelike and the pupils slit. "What about them?"