Chapter Thirty-Three
I’m going to die here.
Fear lodged in her throat like a lump, and Savannah shivered on the metal bed in the cold, windowless jail cell as her life ticked away. Other than the silent guard who delivered the daily meal, she’d seen nobody since her arrest—not even other prisoners.
Stratos…why couldn’t you believe me? She’d exhausted all her tears; she had none left to cry.
Only the aching hollowness of abandonment and sharp stab of betrayal remained.
This hurt worse than Gavin, and she had only herself to blame for getting involved with the boss again.
Am I the stupidest person on two planets or what?
She was terrified she would never leave this jail cell, that she’d been condemned to life imprisonment without ever getting a trial. She didn’t even know the charges against her—she assumed it involved the thefts at OberTech, but nobody had told her anything.
She estimated a week had passed since the arrest; she couldn’t be sure. The lights stayed on all the time, so she couldn’t tell night from day.
She gauged time by meal deliveries, the large gap between them seeming to indicate a once-a-day schedule.
Nobody removed the old trays; an armed, beefy jailor would appear and set a tray outside the cell, deactivate the force field, toe the tray inside, and depart.
All without a word. Her questions and pleas fell on deaf ears.
Seven trays of congealed, uneaten food were piled up in the corner.
The food was always the same, a sour, bitter, rank gray gelatinous blob.
It made oophish look appetizing. After the first three days without eating, she’d forced down a couple of mouthfuls, only to vomit a short time later.
She hadn’t touched it again since. The bitter aftertaste made her wonder if they drugged it—another reason to maintain the hunger strike. But how long could she go without food?
Her pants sagged on her hips. If she had the energy to shimmy, they’d fall off.
She took a tiny sip of water to wet her parched mouth.
The small jug only got refilled every other day, so she rationed what she drank.
She had a hunch she was getting dehydrated because she wasn’t peeing very much, and the urine was dark yellow when she did.
And she was tired, so very tired. There was no commode, just a bucket. She hadn’t showered in a week.
Hygiene was the least of her worries right now.
The only thing scarier than being arrested for a crime she hadn’t committed was being arrested on an alien planet where she had no rights, no knowledge of the legal system, and the man she believed loved her and who might have been able to help, had abandoned her
The door to the unit whooshed opened. It was too soon for mealtime—unless more time had passed than she realized.
But it wasn’t the beefy guard who appeared, but one of the men who’d taken her into custody. He wore civilian clothes today rather than a uniform, but an official-looking badge had been pinned to his civvies.
She stood up. “I want an attorney.” An ineffectual mantra. She’d said the same thing each and every time the guard brought the meals.
“You’re not entitled to an attorney, but we might be able to work out a deal and get you out of here. Depends on how cooperative you are.”
The instant she set foot outside of this jail, she would haul ass to the spaceport and get herself off this planet—assuming her assets hadn’t been frozen.
Brad had been smart to flee while he had a chance.
If she’d had any inkling what had been headed her way, she would have run, too.
She thought often about his last message.
I’m sorry. Had that been a confession as well as an apology?
She still didn’t know if he’d done it. Rotating through the departments, he’d had the means and opportunity to steal the designs, and money was always a motive.
Fleeing looked bad. But he was her friend.
She wasn’t going to automatically believe the worst about a friend.
Besides, if the investigators were dead wrong about her, they could be wrong about Brad, too.
And maybe he hadn’t fled. Maybe he was stuck in some Oberian jail like she was.
“Come this way.” The officer cut the force field.
He ushered her out of the cell block and down a corridor.
Footprints had cut a path in the dusty floor—but not that many footprints.
Wouldn’t a jail be busier? Why was the floor so dusty anyway?
Where were all the personnel? She heard no voices.
Through an open door, she’d caught a glimpse of the guard who’d been delivering the food.
Feet propped up on a table, he ate lunch.
Inside another open door there was a huge vacant area containing some crates and a couple of vehicles, one of which she recognized as having flown her here.
She turned to peer behind her. When they’d brought her, they’d come in through the door at the far end of the corridor and then taken her directly to the cell.
“What are you looking at?” the man demanded.
“Nothing.”
There’d been no booking, no IDing, no questioning. This must be the questioning. Why the delay? To make me sweat? Wear down my defenses?
“In here.” He pushed her into a small room where his partner worked on a portable comm device at a cheap metal table. He, too, wore street clothes. Had they come in on their day off?
“Where am I?” she asked.
“Where do you think you are?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”
“Sit down,” he ordered.
She sat. “Look, officer—”
“Inspector.” He exchanged a glance with his partner. “Inspector Tron. This is Inspector Iono. You, Ms. Mays, are in a lot of trouble.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“But if you help us, we may be able to help you.”
“I don’t have any information!” she cried. I’m doomed.
“You’d be surprised at what you know,” Iono said.
“Brad and I were friends, that’s all.” She twisted her hands.
“This isn’t about Brad Benson,” Tron said. “It’s about Stratos.”
“Stratos! What about him?”
“We’re aware he’s been working with Benson to sell design plans to the Prellims.”
“What?” Her jaw dropped. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t know one way or another what Brad did, but Stratos would never steal designs from the company.
He loves OberTech. It was his father’s company.
He’s hoping to be CEO. Some of the designs stolen were ones he’d created. ” She shook her head. “No way.”
“Well, it’s unfortunate—for you—that you see it that way,” Tron said. “Because if you could corroborate the facts presented, we would be able to release you.”
They’d let me go? Everything in her being clutched at the hope of freedom. All her problems—fear, misery, hunger—could be gone. She could return to Earth and start over again.
They dangled freedom like a carrot to coerce her compliance in a travesty. This isn’t about me. It’s about Stratos! He’s the target. He’s the one they want.
She would rot in jail before she’d implicate him.
He’d abandoned her, but she would never falsely accuse anyone, let alone the man she still loved despite his betrayal.
Besides, what guarantee did she have the men would live up to their promise?
Their disregard for the truth showed they lacked integrity.
“Those aren’t facts. Stratos wouldn’t do anything against OberTech. He is honest to the core.”
Iono tapped his device to call up a holographic statement.
“We took the liberty of writing something for you. It says as his executive assistant, you have personal knowledge of Stratos sending designs to the Prellims, you saw communications verifying that, and he met frequently with Benson, but he ordered you to keep those meetings off his calendar.”
“None of that happened!”
“Are you sure? All you have to do is sign here, and we’ll escort you outside, take you anywhere you wish to go.”
She folded her arms. “I’m not signing.”
“Perhaps the next time we speak—whenever that is—you’ll have a different recollection of the facts,” Tron threatened. “Get up.” He hauled her out of the chair and shoved her toward the door.
Locked in her cell again, she sank onto the unpadded metal bed. It turned out, she did have more tears left in her. She began to sob.