CHAPTER VIII - "WORLDS BROKEN"

A FUTURISTIC SCIENCE FICTION SHORT STORY WITH A TWIST.

                        Worlds Broken

Justine was cold.  She looked over at her young cell mate's sleeping
form on the bunk opposite of hers.  Samantha was nearly eight and only
three years her junior but Justine felt much older than the child.
The important thing about Samantha was not her age but the number 184
tattooed on her arm.  She was lucky.  It would hopefully be over by
the time The Doctor reached her number.  There were after all only two
hundred of them and the government would intervene soon.
 
Justine didn't have the fortune of time.  It had been nearly two days
since the guards had taken Number 8, who had been a feeble old man.
It was a shock he had sustained The Doctor this long.  Soon.  Justine set
up in bed and looked through the bars and out at the red light beaming
in the hallway.  She sat there, unable to find sleep, waiting for the
light to flash.  She pulled her legs against her chest and her mind
began to question her.
 
What if after the divorce she had chosen to live with her mother instead
of her father?  What if her father had never been offered to continue
his cancer research on the first moon colony?  What if she had refused
to come? But another question loomed over her.  What if something had
happened to make her father not want to go?
 
That question made chills slither up her spine and needles seemed to push
into her left knee like sharp reminders of an old pain.  Salty droplets
formed in her green eyes that were the color of freshly cut grass.
She let the tears dance down her cheeks for the first time in weeks.
Her eyes moved around the little cell, catching every detail.  She had
recognized the prison instantly when they first arrived.  It had been
built only four years ago and Justine remembered watching the special
on television with her parents on the construction of the building.
She hadn't understood why they wanted to put a prison on the moon.

But now she did.  Simply the thought of being held prisoner off of her
own planet made her sick.  A hard lump was born from that thought and
now remained permanently lodged in her throat. The prison hadn't been
used long; a year after its construction the government decided to build
a new prison on Mars and construct a laboratory nearly 100 miles away
from the first prison.  The moon-based prison was supposed to be torn
down in a few months.  Justine smiled a cold smile no child should know.
This place was perfect for The Doctor's plan; it was like someone had set
it up and handed it to him.  

Nobody had seen this man yet.  When he and
his guards had hijacked the spacecraft, he had worn a mask.  Rumor was
he only took it off when he was working in the back room.  Samantha gave
out a soft little cry, like a puppy that was sleeping away from its
mother for the first time.  Justine got up and sat on the girl's bed.
"It's okay, Samantha," she said. "I'm here."  Samantha put her head in 
Justine's lap and covered it with tears. Absently Justine hugged the 
frail girl whose body rattled with sobs.  "I....I had a bad dream," 
she choked.  "Go to sleep.  I won't let anything hurt you."  Both of 
them knew that if something did happen neither of them could stop it.  
Soon the night wrapped around Justine and she became blind to the 
terrifying reality.
 
Before breakfast was served the hallway was full of a pulsing red light.
The sounds of Number 9 screams as they pulled him from his cell deafened
everyone's ears.  The 10 on Justine's arm started to burn.
 
***
 
Mark, Number 108, awoke to the flashing of the red light and a sick feeling
fought its way into his stomach.  His cell mate was already eating his
breakfast.  The odor from the slop did not help matters but he forced
himself to get up and eat the filth that had been brought to them.
 
"That was Number 9," said the other man flatly.
 
"I know."
 
The two men forced the brown mixture into their mouths until Mark was sure
the guards had left to eat their pancakes, the smell of which was making
his stomach growl in envy.  Mark moved to sit on his cell mate's bunk.
 
"They still making you work in the supply room with all of our luggage,
Pete?" asked Mark in a low voice.
 
"Yeah.  Better than the yard."
 
"I hear ya'.  Can you get me a few things?"
 
"What for?"
 
"My daughter's Number 10."
 
Pete stopped eating and looked out the cell door.  There were tears in his
eyes and he silently thanked God that his wife and child were Number 151.
 
"What all you need?"
 
"Make-up.  Base, concealer whatever it's called, I'm sure your wife
had some.  Oh, and a black marker."
 
"How the hell is that going to help?"
 
In answer, Mark covered up the 8 on his arm.  There was another silent
moment as Pete digested this, which went down harder than what passed
as food.
 
***
 
Number 9 lasted a little longer than a week, which was more than most.
The hallway filled with light in the middle of the night and Justine
huddled under her bunk with Samantha.  She reasoned that she would go bravely
and that she was only hiding for the little girl's sake.  The doors to the
back room opened and the thick smell of death assaulted the prisoners.
Samantha started to throw up and Justine wrapped her arms around her,
fearing what would happen to the little thing when she was taken away.
 
Then came the guards with their boots pounding on the concrete.  She could
hear them barking, "Show us your numbers!"  Her heart stopped.
 
"I'm number 10!" cried a voice a few cells down.  Justine knew that voice
very well; it had carried her off to sleep each night and lifted her up
each morning.
 
"No," she whispered and crept to the edge of the bunk so she could see
out into the hallway.
 
The guards were pulling Number 108 out of his cell.  They looked at
his arm.  The 8 that had once been there had been hidden but you could
still see a dark shadow of where it had been.
 
"Are you really?" sneered the guard.
 
"Does it matter?"
 
The guards shrugged and walked Mark to the back room.  As her father
passed Justine a marker fell out of his pant's leg and Justine picked
it up quickly.  If the guards noticed they didn't care much; they were
still getting paid no matter what body was given to The Doctor.  An ill
feeling had sunken in on both the girls as Samantha helped Justine draw an
8 on her arm.
 
***
 
They came four days later, when the guards were making the adults work
on the compound.  Like most of the children Justine and Samantha had been
left in their box.  When they first heard their saviors coming, the tiny
prisoners mistook them for the guards until they saw one word spelled
out in white his black uniform: Agent.
 
"Are you kids okay?" asked a man in his mid-twenties.
 
Justine crawled to the bars and smiled at him.  She motioned for Samantha
to follow and like a tiny animal caught in a world much too big she
crept to Justine's side.
 
"Yes, the rest of us are out in the yard, store room and ...." She paused
for a moment to battle tears. "There is one in the back room."
 
The Agent fought with the door for a few minutes to release the girls and
was finally able to force the cell's mouth open.  Samantha latched onto the
man and he had to gently pull her off; Justine was focused on the door to
the back room.  It was mocking her.  That door was the last barrier between
her and her father.  Before she realized it she was next to the door,
with Agents screaming at her not to move.  But her hand didn't hear them.
 
Justine didn't want to see what was in that chamber.  She knew that at
the least her father was dead but her hand refused to comprehend what
else could have happened.
 
***
 
An old man was standing over an operating table, pulling out the tubes
that connected his "patent" to the machines.  The eleven-year-old Justine
stared at him for a moment before charging.  The Doctor laughed, shoving
her out of the way as he ran out of the back room.  The girl was left
alone with what was left of her dying father.  Sweat and tears dripped
down Justine's face as she set up in bed.  She could feel her stomach
about to unload its contents and she closed her eyes, reminding herself
that it was over.  The images in her mind couldn't hurt her.  She looked
at the alarm clock on her bed side table; it informed her that is was
3 a.m. and she hit her pillow, blaming it for her nightmare.  The small
bottle of pills on the night stand were smiling at her.  She should take
one.  Slowly she picked them up but decided against it and threw them at
an innocent wall.  For nearly nine years her nights had been haunted by
memories of the moon-based prison and nothing could save her from them.
But she did know where she could find refuge.  She picked up the phone.
 
"Samantha?"
 
"Just?"
 
"Who else would be waking you up?"
 
"True, but I wasn't sleeping."  Samantha paused for along moment and Justine
could hear typing.  "You know how it is.  Sleep isn't meant for us."
 
"Have you taken your pills yet?"
 
"I always do but they never work.  You?"
 
"No.  What's the point?"
 
"Well, we are supposed to take them . . ."
 
Justine rolled her eyes.  The sick feeling was easing and she knew that
her body was back under control.
 
"What are you working on?"
 
"A new lead.  From a cop no less.  Got the email about ten minutes ago."
 
"A cop bothered to email you in the middle of the night?"
 
"Yeah."
 
"Is it important or another dead end?"
 
"Don't know yet.  I'll let you know tomorrow."
 
"I could come over?"
 
"No, Just.  You sleep.  Your therapist will have kittens if you miss
again."
 
"Fine.  I'll see you in the office."
 
"Bye Just."
 
Justine hung up the phone and forced herself to plunge back into sleep.
 
***
 
Justine didn't like doctors, or scientists, for that matter, but mostly if
someone had a Dr. in front of their name then she instantly disliked them.
But her distaste for Dr. Roberts was personal.  After all, he was only a
psychiatrist and therefore not even a real doctor.  Too bad you couldn't
tell him that.
 
"Justine are you listening?"
 
"Uh huh," she grunted half asleep on the hard couch that was much too
short for her 5'9" frame.  She had stopped fitting on the little couches
that it seemed every psychiatrist had in their office when she fourteen.
 
"Well, you're not being very responsive."
 
"Had a late night.  You know I'll buy you a new couch.  No adult can
fit on these and it's hurting my back."  "You're not suppose to sleep on
them Justine."  "Think you could just give me the drugs so I can flush
them and get back to work?"
 
She smiled inwardly as he started to yell about her not taking her
prescriptions and how they were vital to her getting better.  Right before
she nodded off he started in on something else.
 
"Now, Justine there is something else we need to work on.  All you
do is work. I mean it's ruining your life.  Your coworkers complain
you're hard on them and in fact the only person willing to work with you
is Samantha.   And on top of that your health is suffering.  It is simply
not healthy the way you are living.  I mean, just last week you missed
an appointment because you worked for two straight days.  And the only
reason you stopped was because you passed out from exhaustion and hunger."
 
"My life.  None of your business."
 
"Now, yes it is.  You're my patient and I worry about you.  And this
behavior has to stop or...or your life..."
 
"What behavior?"  "Your obsession with dealing out justice to those you
deem criminals.  Now I understand that you went through a very traumatic
experience but...well..."
 
She opened her eyes to glare at the man.  Dr. Roberts sucked in his breath
and twitched in his chair like a worm on a hook.  He knew that right at
that very moment anger was building in the young woman, that at first
glance seemed rather harmless.  Justine sat up.
 
"It's my job," she growled and pointed to the word Agent spelled out in
white on her black uniform.
 
"Look, Justine," he stuttered the first few words but then he pushed them
out. "I'm what, the ninth psychiatrist that you have been made to come
to in the past five years since you have been working for the Agency?
And that's not counting the numerous doctors and such you were sent to
as a child."
 
"What's your point."
 
"Well, I think your problems are due to this anger you have toward The
Doctor.  I understand what you went through but...well...the only way
you are every going to heal is...if maybe...you try and let go...that
is...try and put it behind you."
 
Something tightened in her mind and she sprang off the couch to the
filing cabinet.  She dug around until she found the fat folder carrying
pieces of her life.
 
"Have you looked at this?" She demanded.
 
"I review all of my patient's files."
 
He seemed shocked and acted like he had been accused of a crime.  With
angry hands Justine pulled out old pieces of paper with drawings she had
done as a child soon after coming back from the moon.  The sketches were
mostly of a dark room but others were of a monster that used to be a man.
The creator had tubes running throughout his body and was missing parts
that all humans had.  She held them up for him to.
 
"You review these?"
 
"Yes.  Those are some of the things I'm talking about.  You can clearly
see the anger in these pictures and I...."
 
"Do you know what they are of?"
 
"Well, they seem to be of the genetic experiments The Doctor did on
his subjects..."
 
"That's it! I can't take you anymore."
 
She slung the picture of the man in front of him.
 
"This is not a lab rat.  This was my father! Could you forgive the man
who did this?"
 
"Now, Justine.."
 
"Shut up!"
 
Her body was shaking.  She flipped open a panel on the large blue cuff
surrounding her left wrist and pushed the small green button hidden there.
 
"Office," she barked at the device and disappeared into the air.
 
She materialized three floors above the one she had been on in her office,
making Samantha jump.
 
"I hate those damn things," said Samantha.
 
"I love 'em.  Can't wait for them to start working for longer distances."
 
Justine sat down in her chair and started working on her computer.
Anything to get her mind off things.  Nothing was said between the two
about why she was almost an hour early.
 
"What's on the agenda today, Samantha?"
 
"The lead from last night.  The email is on your computer."
 
"Agent Justine Sanders," she read out loud, hopeful that it was good news.
"Two nights ago I did a routine raid on an apartment building of a known
drug dealer.  I had his computer files scanned and found documents that
link this man to The Doctor.  In fact I believe this is one of his guards
that got away.  Nobody in my department believes there is enough proof
but I thought perhaps you could give me that."
 
Justine stopped before reading the name to let all the information to
set in.
 
"It's signed Officer Blain Watts.  Somehow that last name sounded
really familiar.  What is the dealers name?"  Samantha smiled and jumped up to
hand Justine a file.  Justine caught a glimpse of the old numbers on her
friend's arm.  Neither of the, had ever had theirs removed or bothered
to cover them up.  They were reminders.  In the file was a picture
of a lean faced man that resembled a rodent.  He had aged some and
Justine could see that his eye color and nose were slightly different.
But plastic surgery and color contacts could only do so much.  Justine
knew this man as Andrew Albert, the last of the Doctor's guards.  "Did you
recognize him?" She asked with a wicked smile.  "Yep.  Got to be Albert?
And there was accounts that matched some of the others that we found on
the other guards.  They have him in holding downtown and his computer
is at Watt's office."  "Oh well, you know what this means, right?"
 
Samantha smiled.
 
"Yeah, I'll call him."
 
***
 
"I get to meet her!" Yelled Blain.
 
He jumped out of his office and bounded down the hall.  The other police
officers snickered at him and some even joined in with his celebration.
 
"When she coming?" asked his partner, Matt.
 
"Her assistant said they were on their way.  Do you think they will
arrive by one of those flying board things Agents use?  Oh, do you think
she will be in uniform? Oh man I ..."
 
"Okay, Blain.  You can calm down. Oh, they're called hover disk by
the way."
 
Blain looked at him confused.  He had just realized his friend had been
speaking and that he had stopped.
 
"What are?" Blain asked.
 
"Never mind."
 
His friend clapped the now shaking man on the shoulder and steered him
back into his office so they could wait together.
 
Blain busied himself with organizing his information as quickly as he
could so he would look professional when Justine came.  His office was
covered in news clippings.  There was one large bulletin board that his
co-workers had dubbed "The Wall of Justine."  It had clippings of all
of her many accomplishments, most of which were capturing some of The
Doctor's guards that had escaped.  The two men talked for about half an
hour about unimportant things.  Then came a knock at the window.
 
"What the hell?" said Blain, getting out of his chair and walking to the
window to open the blinds.
 
There suspended in mid-air was Justine and Samantha.  The Agent scowled
at the officer grinning at her from the other side of the glass. She
thought for a second he looked like someone she knew but she was too
annoyed to care.  Mentally she made a note to add police officers to
her list along with doctors and scientists.  A few seconds later Matt
appeared and Justine then had two men grinning at her.
 
They must be partners.
 
Finally the window was open and the two women gently glided in on the
hover disk.  Samantha hoped off and immediately went to the computer.
Justine waited for her to get off.  Then she stomped her foot on a
button on the front of the large disk and it disappeared into her shoe.
She dropped the three feet to the floor like a cat.  She surveyed the
office and laughed inwardly when she saw her face looking back at her.
 
"Which one of you is Blain?" She asked
 
"I am."
 
He raised his hand like a little boy in school but then he realized and
pulled it back quickly.  His face turned red.
 
"This your office?"
 
He nodded, not trusting his voice.  Must calm down.  Must not make an a*s
out of myself.  But such thoughts were in vain seeing how he was light
headed and his body yearned to pass out.  Justine smiled.  Her lips were
shocked because they had not been in this position in a long time.
 
"I love how you have decorated the place."
 
The happiness had disappeared back into the dark corner where it had
been banished and the stone exterior of an Agent took over.
 
"Well, let's get to work," said Justine.  She kneeled down next to Samantha
so she could watch her work.  The two men sat down, too stunned by the
take-over to make a noise.  Samantha worked for ten minutes in silence.
"Well this is boring.  I want to check out the dealer you guys caught.
Which way to the cells?" Justine asked, even though she already knew where
they were.  "Uh..." said Blain.  "Albert has been moved," Said Matt quickly
to save his partner from himself.  "Well you take me to where he is,"
Ordered Justine, looking at Blain.  He nodded.
 
"Well, come here."
 
Justine instructed the man to stand behind her and place his hands on
her hips.  She stomped her foot and the hover disk came out of her shoe
and floated a few feet upward.  Blain almost fell off when the two flew
through the window.
 
Matt just sat there with an amused smile.
 
***
 
Samantha and Matt had been working on the computer for nearly an hour.
It wasn't going so good.
 
"Damn computer," muttered Samantha, not for the first time she regretted
becoming an information specialist.
 
She leaned back in her chair, stretching her back.  When she did her
sleeve slipped down exposing the numbers forever engraved into her arm.
 
"You were there too?" asked Matt.
 
"Yeah, good old number 184.  Just was number 10."
 
Samantha stopped and turned to face the man.  Her brown eyes gave birth to
tears but they wouldn't let them pass her lashes.
 
"Number 10?  I thought most of the kids were high numbers."
 
"They were.  When they lined us up to put the numbers on us she pushed
me to the back of the line so I'd be safe.  Then after we were branded
she found me so we could be cell mates."
 
She had recited this before.  Justine hadn't been the only one stuck in
therapy for most of her life.
 
"Hey come look at this," she said, switching back to the task she had
been given.  "I think we have a virus."
 
Matt looked at the screen.  Open was a window full of what appeared to
be random letters.  They weren't unreadable to him but he didn't like
what he saw.
 
"Doesn't look good," he said. "Must have gotten it from that junkie's
computer and the virus scans missed it.  Happens sometimes.  Not often
but it does happen.  Why don't you go get some coffee, while I fight
with this."  Samantha looked at him thankfully and partially ran out of the
tiny room.  It was around 10 a.m. and there were still plenty of people
at the station.  They looked like ants, scurrying around not really
thinking about what they were doing.  Coffee in hand Samantha started back
to the office. About ten feet from the door there was a beep followed
by a loud boom and then the screams.
 
***
 
Justine was steaming.  She stood in front of a window with Blain next to her.
Behind the window was a very frightened woman who was thankful there
was at least a piece of glass between her and the mad agent.
 
"What do you mean he isn't here?  This is where he was transferred,
therefore he is here and I will see him.  Now."
 
Justine's words echoed through the empty white building making the glass
in front of her rattle.
 
"I'm sorry but he didn't come on transport," Stammered the women. "I
called in to HQ but nobody has gotten back to me."
 
The woman was saved further verbal assault when the blur cuff surrounding
Justine's wrist started to ring.
 
"Oh!  That's Samantha! I bet they found something."
 
She opened a panel to look at the view screen but she didn't see her
friend's face.  The cold eyes that meet hers had been imbedded into
her mind.  She had seen that face once, when she had opened the back
door to find her father dead and The Doctor fleeing the scene.
 
"Well good evening, Justine," said The Doctor.  "Having fun?"
 
Justine opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off.
 
"Your friend Samantha isn't.  No, in fact I'm afraid she's dead.
Seems someone implanted a nasty little bomb into your friend's computer."
 
"You son of a-..."
 
"Now, now, don't start that.  I'm about to make a nice little deal
with you."
 
"What do you mean?"
 
He laughed and pulled back the camera so she could see where he was
standing.  She had been in that room as well.  It was no longer in use
but when she was little it had been a control room for shuttle launches.
The craft that took her to the moon had taken off there.
 
"Ah, I see you remember this place.  Good.  You have one hour to get
here."
 
"But..."
 
"No talking.  I've listened to you for years.  Always on TV aren't you.
It hasn't been easy staying away from you.  And I'm tired of playing
cat and mouse.  So if you want to finish this...you know where I am."
 
Then he was gone.  Her body was shaking and all the blood seemed to have
drained from her limbs.
 
"He's got to be lying," said Blain. "Call Samantha."
 
Justine nodded and punched a button on the cuff.  But it wasn't the
face of her friend that answered.  Instead, looking back at her was
a paramedic.
 
"This is Agent Justine," she said. "I need to know the status of my
assistant right now."
 
"She'll be okay.  In fact if you wait a minute I'll bring her, her phone.
She's being checked out."
 
The man disappeared and a few minutes later Samantha came on screen.
 
"He's dead Justine," she said crying.  Her face was badly bruised and
Justine could see her arm was in a sling.
 
"Who?"
 
"Blain's partner.  He.... he was looking at this virus...and he...he made
me go get coffee...but I shouldn't have left...and then it just...."
 
She trailed off into tears.
 
"Don't worry, Samantha.  It'll be okay.  I'm finishing this."
 
She turned off the phone and shut the panel.  Justine looked up at Blain
who was staring blankly.
 
"I'm guessing you would like to come then?"
 
He nodded and that was all she needed.
 
***
 
The room was dark.  Justine knew she was willingly walking into a trap
but she had no choice.  Stale air filled her lungs and her body couldn't
wait to breath it back out.
 
"All right!  Where are you?  I'm tired of your sick games!" She screamed
into the empty room.
 
Next to her Blain had his gun ready with his finger resting just over
the trigger.
 
"Well, well," said The Doctor's voice but neither Justine nor Blain could
find him.  "Isn't that cute.  You brought a friend.  I'm sorry I had to
blow up little Samantha but well, I needed to get your attention."
 
"You didn't.  Samantha is just fine.  Can't say the same for you."
 
Justine saw something move out of the corner of her eye and started to
go investigate it.  Blain tried to move with her but she stopped him with
her hand.
 
"Well, aren't we the confidant one but you always have been," laughed
The Doctor.  "I've been watching you.  You grew up quite fast."
 
"I'm tired of this!  Come out and come out now!"
 
As she yelled a little red light caught her eye; she knew what had a
light like that.  Her eyes quickly traced the beam to its source: the
sniper riffle pointed at Blain.  Justine's body reacted before her mind
could stop it.  She flipped open the panel on her blue cuff and pushed
the green button.  "Twenty feet to the left," she screamed and within
an instant she was there to shove the man out of the way, exposing her
chest to the bullet already in motion.
 
***
 
Justine heard someone screaming at her and she felt like she had
just woken up out of a bad dream.  Her head was pounding and when
she tried to open her eyes all she saw was darkness surrounding her.
Is this what it feels like to be blind?  Am I blind?  No, there was
something on her head covering her eyes.  She could feel weight at the
top of her head and decided that she had on some kind of helmet or mask.
Her arms and legs were also stuck.  Then she felt someone grab her arm
and pull her free.  When her sight returned to her she wished it hadn't.
She was in a laboratory.  At first she thought The Doctor had captured
her and she was about to share the same fate as her father.  Then she
saw someone and her heart jumped into her throat.
 
"Daddy?" she whispered looking into the eyes she had missed most of
her life.
 
""What's wrong with you?  What happened I lost the feed soon after you
went to the moon.  I've been trying to get you out of this for hours."
 
"No. No. You're dead!  The....The Doctor killed you!"
 
Her father stared at her.
 
"Oh....Oh my God you don't remember do you?"
 
"Remember what?"
 
Her knee was hurting her and she looked down to see why.  A strange
metal brace was biting into her flesh.
 
"What the hell is this?" she screamed, trying to pull the brace off.
 
"Stop that," he said pushing her into a chair. "I think I understand what
happened.  Just listen.  We have been working on a virtual reality machine
that, when you hook someone up to it they can go back into their memories
and change one factor.  Then the subject, and in this case we used you,
can see how things would be different if that factor never happened.
In your case we stopped the car accident that injured your knee, which
then I didn't have to take all that time off work and was able to get
my cancer research accepted to the moon project.  How was it?  I mean
were my theories about..."
 
"Haven't you been listening?  The Doctor killed you!  Where is he?"
 
"The...oh yes him.  I'm not really sure.  We've been so busy.  After your
accident we developed that new brace you are wearing so you could walk.
Its really quite amazing.  Your leg was almost completely destroyed
but...Oh and then there was your education and you getting your doctorate
and now this."
 
"My doctorate?"
 
She looked down and sure enough pinned to her white lab coat was a badge
and there were the two little letters Justine hated.  Her hand ripped
the badge off and threw it across the room.
 
"No."
 
"Now Justine calm down.  There had to be a malfunction.  Let me hook
you back up to the machine and we will try to fix things.  I mean...you
should remember your real life and the one you viewed in the machine.
There must be a bug.  Come with me and-"
 
He tried to take her hand but she pulled back from him.
 
"No!"
 
She got up and ran.  The brace on her knee made a soft creaking sound but
didn't inhibit her movement.  Justine had no idea where she was going or
even where she was but she knew she needed to get out of the laboratory.
After a few minutes she discovered a door that read "Dr. Justine Sanders."
Her fingers were quivering but she forced them to type in what she needed.
Tears started running down her cheeks as she read the list of those who
did not return from the moon.  Samantha's name was on there.  Justine forced
herself to do one last search but what it revealed was bad news as well.
As she read she heard her father coming down the hall.
 
"Now, Justine I need you to calm down," he said walking in slowly,
acting as if she were some wild animal.
 
"It doesn't matter, Dad.  They are both dead."
 
She looked up at him with tear filled eyes.  All of her life she had
wanted to see him again and now that she had the chance the sharp pain
stabbing at her was too much for her to enjoy her wish.
 
"Who's dead?"
 
"Samantha.  We....we were cell mates . . . and Blain . . . he died two years
ago, trying to catch The Doctor."
 
"Don't worry now....I'll fix that.  Just come with me back to the laboratory and
we can wipe away all of those memories and put the right ones back."
 
Justine got up and for the first time in many years let a doctor touch
her; he led her into the room with a machine that would repair her
broken reality.