Chapter Twenty-Eight
Someone was humming. The song had no words that she knew of, but the deep, masculine voice was pleasant and familiar, although she couldn’t place it. The soothing tone, and the warmth and comfort suffusing her tempted her to sleep again.
“Do you have to sing?” complained a rougher voice she recognized immediately. Beth lurched to full awareness. Her eyes flew open to see Brock and Dr. Swain. No Carter.
The doctor stopped humming. “Sleeping beauty awakes!” he boomed.
“Did it work? Is the chip gone?” She sat up. Where was Carter? Her heart contracted with a sharp pang of hurt. She had ruined what they had. It hadn’t been her fault, but she couldn’t blame him. How would she expect him to react when she’d tried to kill him? Still, he’d said he would stay. He might not love her anymore, but he stood by his promises.
“It’s gone.” Swain smiled, and Brock did, too.
“So, I’m going to be okay?”
“Better than okay. Great,” the doctor answered.
She touched her head. “I don’t feel any different.”
“You won’t—only you won’t be acting against your will anymore, and you’ll find that your headaches are gone for good. You were getting neural flashes when the chip’s coding was updated or activated.”
She felt almost giddy with relief, but she had to warn them. “Where’s Carter? He promised he’d be here.”
“He stayed through the entire procedure, but urgent business called him away,” Brock said. “He’ll be back after meeting with Vincere.”
“Benson?” Beth flew off the bed. “No. No. Benson is Lamani!” Oh stars, she’d said it. She could say the name. “Lamani. Benson is Lamani!”
Disbelief scribbled on their faces, Brock and Swain glanced at each other then back at her. “What makes you say that?” Brock said.
“He told me! On his ship!” She brushed a frantic hand over her forehead. “Surgery made him look Terran so he could become secretary general of the AOP and give Lamis-Odg everything they want. He plans to lead the negotiations—with himself.”
“Those are serious allegations,” Brock said. “Lamani is the worst terrorist to arise in a millennium. Compared to him, Hitler, ISIS, and the Taliban look like humanitarians. It’s no secret Carter opposes Vincere leading the AOP, but the secretary general is one of the most respected, powerful men in the galaxy, and he has an exemplary reputation for fairmindedness and compassion.”
“Don’t you see? It’s part of his plot!”
“Vincere is Terran,” Swain said. “Lamani is Odgidian. They’re instantly recognizable by the thick ridges around their foreheads and temples.”
“He underwent reconstructive surgery,” she repeated. Why wouldn’t they believe her? As cyborgs, they of all people should understand.
Brock folded his arms. “Other than what Vincere supposedly told you, do you have any evidence?”
“Why isn’t what he told me evidence?” She waved in agitation. “Please, tell Carter…”
“I’m not doubting you, but—”
“You are doubting me! If you believed me, you’d contact him right now.”
“We can’t accuse an innocent, well-respected man of galactic repute of being the worst terrorist who ever lived.”
“But you can endanger Carter’s life? He’s there alone meeting with Benson, isn’t he?”
“He’s a cyborg.”
While she wasted time arguing, Carter could be dying. Well, if nobody would help him, she would! She charged for the exit.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Brock grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”
“Let me go!” She tried to wrench from his grasp, but he was too strong. She aimed a punch to get him to release her, but he dodged the blow.
“Stop it! You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Carter is with Lamani. He’ll be killed. Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because it’s ridiculous!” Brock retorted.
She’d screwed up. She should have acted compliant and calm, found a PerComm, and messaged him herself. The chance had been lost. Brock released her wrists but planted himself between her and the exit and glared at Swain in such a way that she realized they were exchanging messages.
“If you two can communicate mentally, then you can contact Carter.” She looked at Swain. Could he be an ally? Maybe he would send a message.
“Give us something,” Brock said. “Some kind of proof. Any kind at all. A message…inside information only Lamani would know—”
“Oh, well, how about DNA?” she flung out sarcastically.
“You have that?” Swain asked.
“Of course, I don—” She froze, remembering Lamani taunting her on the ship. Maybe… “Do you still have the clothes I was wearing when you found me on Lamani’s shuttle? He spit on me when he was talking to me. You can analyze saliva, right? You can compare Benson’s DNA to Lamani’s.
Brock sighed. “Vincere’s genetic signature was entered in the database when he assumed the position of secretary general. And, we do have Lamani’s DNA. Cy-Ops extrapolated it from samples we took from the two adult sons we captured—sons, I might add, who are Vincere’s age. He couldn’t possibly be their father.”
“He had surgery! If they can make him look human, they can make him look twenty years younger.”
“I know for a fact Vincere is not Lamani. The DNA samples on record aren’t even close.”
“How do you know? You never compared them!”
“I’m looking at them now.” Brock tapped his temple. “I pulled them up from the database. I’m sorry. You were under the influence of the coding when you were on Vincere’s ship. You must have misunderstood what he said.” If he said it at all. She read the doubt in his expression.
“Contact Carter, please. You don’t have to believe me to tell him what I said!”
“Carter has a lot to handle right now. I’m not going to interrupt him with this.”