Outer space
The morning after the assault, Jess continued to go over the events in her mind. Why would someone steal her life wristband? Only she could retrieve and use the information encoded on it. The theft created a nuisance more than anything else. She'd have to go to the Habitat Security offices to file a report and request a replacement. The new one might take a week or more, and she couldn't postpone her off-planet vacation in two days.
Adding to her worries, a protector had showed up at her front door with a request she accompany him to the Habitat Security offices. She hoped he'd brought the news of recovery of her wristband, or the arrest of a suspect. But, he answered none of her questions, deferring everything to the protectorate detective who wanted to interview her.
She waited for the detective in a small paneled office made to resemble an earth office of the 1970's. She didn't know why anyone wanted such an out-of-date and out-of-place office. Before she could read the certificates hanging on the wall, an older man in a loose-fitting gray suit entered the room, extended his hand and introduced himself as Detective Jerry Rivers.
If he smiled or tried to appear friendly, he might be a pleasant sort, Jess thought. Apparently that wasn't part of his job description. He remained silent, aloof, almost ignoring her presence. He gestured toward a wing back, leather chair near his desk, then searched a desk drawer while she sat down. He pulled out a couple pens before finding one that worked, then scribbled something on a form, planted himself in a wooden, swivel desk chair and began to shuffle papers. The act, copied from a vintage television show, did not impress Jess. She would have preferred dealing with someone who used a datascreen, although she had no doubt there was one embedded in the surface of the desk.
If there was one thing Jess hated, it was wasting time. She had clinic visits to make, work to finish, and packing for her trip. The unexpected hassle of losing her wristband added to her list of to-do chores for the day. She did not need to spend valuable time in a detective's office because of his disorganization.
She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair and stared at the man, willing him to get the interview underway.
Excuse me, she finally said, only to be interrupted by the sound of a door behind her opening and closing again with a soft swoosh as the air moderation system responded to the environmental change of another person in the room.
At least she assumed a person had entered. She didn't sense the presence of a 'bot. But
the person who entered the office remained behind Jess, out of her line of vision. She caught a faint whiff of a familiar scent, but could not readily identify it. Trying to catch the detective's attention, Jess leaned forward and started to speak again.
Look, Detective Rivers, I have a lot to do today. Could we please get on with this?
The detective looked up and past her to the person behind her as if to ask permission to begin.
Yes, Dr. Wilcox, I ... uh, appreciate your coming down here so quickly. Your cooperation will be of great assistance in our investigation. Just a few general questions, if you don't mind.
I'm afraid I don't understand. Is it customary for detectives to investigate a mugging? Not that I object, certainly, but it seems a rather common crime for someone like yourself to be concerned with. I'd rather just apply for a new life wristband and go back to life as normal.
The detective shifted slightly, leaning back, tapping the pen on the desk, Perhaps I can answer your questions as we proceed. His chair squeaked as he leaned forward and dropped his pen on the desk.
Rapid assessment was the stock and trade of a physician and Jess' forte. She noted the flush spreading up Rivers' neck to his face and the pulsation of a prominent artery in his neck.
His blood pressure must be up, she thought. He's the perfect candidate for heart disease, a high stress job, slightly overweight, probably a bit sedentary. She wondered if his health monitor had seen him recently.
Fine, she answered, trying to sound less impatient.
What is your relationship with Dr. Cal Matthews? Rivers asked. A tiny muscle at the corner of one eye twitched.
Jess was completely taken aback by the question, but answered calmly. Dr. Matthews and I are partners in a neuro-biosurgery practice. But, I fail to see what that has to do with anything, she said.
Did he accompany you home last night?
As a matter of fact, he did.
Did he often take you home?
Forget his blood pressure; he's definitely pushing mine up. Jess replied, No, I believe this was the first time he has ever been to my modular.
Did he spend much time with you then?
Perhaps an hour. We had some plans to make for a business trip. We spent the time discussing it. Then, he left.
Concerned about the tone of Rivers' questions, Jess emphasized left.
That would be the off-planet to Promesa?
What does any of this have to do with my life wristband theft? I find your questions inappropriate. Is there some purpose for this?
Rivers exchanged looks with the person behind her while Jess decided she had had enough of this interview. She uncrossed her legs and stood, announcing, I'm leaving.
Rivers also stood, knocking the papers on the desk to the floor. Jess did not care whether he had accomplished whatever he wanted to with the interview or whether he found her wristband. She turned to leave and for the first time, came face-to-face with the man standing across the room, next to the door.
He'd been leaning casually against the wall, ankles crossed, arms folded across his chest until she confronted him.
Hello, Jess, he said, as if he had just seen her the day before.
His words sounded far away. Ten years away.
Jess swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to remember how to breathe. Walk, she told her legs, but they refused to move. Leave, she commanded herself, bile rising from her gut.
A Tsunami wave of long-buried feelings crashed over her.
Time stopped as he crossed the room, took her in his arms, and kissed her. Ten years had no meaning. The events of the past twenty-four hours had no relevance.
She forgot where she was. Her heart stopped beating, and her mind went numb. Aware only of the imprint of his lips on hers, the rock-hard strength of his arms around her, the energy field between them that spanned a decade.
Jess fought to regain control. She stepped back from his embrace, and opened her mouth to speak, uncertain whether the words she wanted to say were there.
Welcome home, Michael, she whispered hoarsely.