Chapter Text
So I got kidnapped.
It wasn’t that big of a deal. I don’t really know how it happened, just that I woke up blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a chair. For a minute, I genuinely thought it was just more military nonsense. It only took a couple days for me to be sure. Honestly, it was more pleasant than most of the meetings that Stratt kept dragging me to. At least I could close my eyes under the blindfold.
I think they probably drugged me with something, because when my captors’ angry muttering gets interrupted by the door being kicked down, I just giggle like a maniac into the gag. I probably would have felt more thankful to my rescuers if they had unbound me before throwing me in (what I assume from the sound to be) a helicopter and shipping me off to the Vat. They don’t even bother loosening the gag until I’m already seated in Stratt’s office, and by now whatever they’d roofied me with has worn off, so I’m thoroughly grumpy.
“The blindfold as well, please,” I hear her instruct as I chomp my teeth around to make sure they’re all still there. Some huge security guy behind me yanks the thing off, and I have to squint against Eva’s desk lamp for a second before my vision adjusts.
I stretch out my arms behind my back as much as I can between my restraints and the back of the chair. “Any chance the handcuffs are next, or…”
Security Guy doesn’t say anything, and Stratt’s not listening to me. I forgot that I kind of hate it here. Maybe I should go back to being kidnapped.
“You have two options.” Stratt’s sounding a bit more shaken up than I’ve ever heard her. Something big must have happened while I was gone. As bitter as I am about no one giving me the time of day here, I’m really hoping this isn’t her weird way of firing me.
“Options for what? Look, I’m sorry I got kidnapped, not my preferred way to spend the weekend, but if you’re trying to kick me off the mission—“
”Doctor Grace, you were missing for a week. The whole project was thrown into disarray because I didn’t— because we didn’t take proper precautions to keep you safe.”
I blink in surprise. “I’m…surprised you noticed I was gone.”
“You are the lead scientist of the project, the leading expert in Astrophage biology, and you consult with nearly every committee. You have the second-highest clearance of anyone on this ship. You thought we wouldn’t notice you had been kidnapped?” She hits me with an exasperated glare, but it softens quickly. “Given all of that, we really should have expected something like this. We were truly lucky to have found you as quickly as we did, but I don’t want to rely on luck in the future. We are going to be keeping better track of you from now on.”
”What are you gonna do, microchip me?” I joke, but she reaches under her desk and pulls out an honest-to-God chip gun. The kind you would use on a dog.
“That is… one option.”
I jolt upright, trying to stand despite my still-bound ankles, but the security guard pushes me back down into the chair with a rough hand. I’m getting a feeling that they’ve left the handcuffs on on purpose. “That’s not an option. I’m not doing that.” I try to be assertive, but it sounds more like I’m begging. “Option two. Whatever option two is. Don’t—“
“Calm down, Doctor Grace. We can do option two. Hernandez, will you?”
The man behind me—Hernandez, I guess— removes his hand from my shoulder and I feel something cold and rubbery wrap around my neck. There’s a click behind me, and Eva checks a little device on her wrist before nodding to Hernandez, who makes quick work of my wrists and ankles. My hands immediately fly to my throat. There’s an inch-tall ring of flexible plastic, latex or silicone or something, running all the way around my neck. I can’t feel any seams in the material, just a couple slightly denser patches and a little metal bit at the very back. I try and get my fingers underneath it, but the material acts like it’s fused to my skin.
I laugh nervously. ”Stratt, what, uh, what’s this?”
She’s already packing up to leave. “Option two. The collar transmits your location to me via this—“ she points to her little smartwatch thing—“and the material is a polymer that’s very resistant to sharp objects and is specially designed to mold to skin. I have been assured that without the key, it is nearly impossible to remove.”
“The key?” I feel my heartbeat pounding against the plastic. “It’s locked? Stratt, this is insane! I’m not doing this.”
She picks up the chip gun. “We can always go back to option one.”
I shrink down into the chair. “No, no, just, does it have to be around my neck? Why not, like, an ankle monitor or a bracelet or something?”
”If someone were to kidnap you again, they would need you alive to gain anything from it. They could easily keep you alive sans a wrist or ankle. The neck is not quite so expendable.”
I shudder at the image. “There’s gotta be an option three somewhere. This can’t be the best course of action.”
”You have two options,” Stratt reiterates, walking to the door, “and I have a meeting. I will see you tomorrow morning. 6 AM in the main conference room. A lot has happened this week and we need to get you caught up.”
I chase her to the exit. “Woah, wait, you forgot to give me the key! How am I supposed to take this thing off?”
”You aren’t. The goal is to keep it on. If someone were to take you and you had the key to the tracking device on your person, they would take it off and throw it in the dumpster and we would lose you for good. There would be no point. A security officer has been trusted to hold on to it for the duration of the mission. Don’t worry, the device is waterproof.” I stare at her, speechless. “I’m telling you to take a shower, Grace,” she admits, then walks out the door.
It’s weird walking out of Stratt’s office. I try not to draw attention to myself, but Dimitri and Ilyukhina ambush me the second I’m in the open. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Dimitri’s cheers or Ilyukhina’s crushing bear hug, but I’m so shaken up by the whole ordeal, and Stratt treating me like one of those leash-backpack kids is just plain embarrassing. I wish I had worn a jacket to my kidnapping, or a turtleneck, or maybe a scarf. I don’t know what the collar looks like, but according to my Russian friends’ immediate questioning looks, it isn’t unnoticeable in the slightest.
“New accessory?” Asks Dimitri.
”Didn’t know you and Stratt were into this kind of thing,” Ilyukhina snorts.
“No! No, no, no, it’s a tracking device,” I explain. To my horror, both of them find this hilarious.
“Don’t worry, it suits you!” Ilyukhina bellows.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
Dimitri throws an arm over my shoulder.“I’m surprised she did not just microchip you!”
”She tried!” I throw my hands in the air. “She had the little vet gun just sitting under her desk!”
They don’t even look surprised. “Honestly, with how freaked out she’s been, you got off easy,” Ilyukhina admits. “It sounded like she was considering building a mini-lab to lock you in. This is great improvement!”
I shudder to think of it. Then again, because the adrenaline of it all is wearing off, and I’m cold and hungry and tired. The two of them take the hint and escort me to my room, talking and laughing the whole time.
I don’t look at myself until I’m out of the showers, and when I do, I don’t love it. My captors didn’t feed me very much, so my skin clings to me more than it used to. I’ve got bruises on my elbows and knees and crawling up my neck, and the skin around my wrists, ankles, and mouth has been rubbed raw. Still, the worst thing might be the collar.
It’s bright red, because of course it is. I try and shimmy it down my neck to make it a little easier to hide beneath a sweater, but it won’t budge. My hand just fidgets with the lock in the back while I consider my options. Even if I could get my hands on some makeup, I don’t think I’d be able to fully conceal it. The thing’s so bright it might as well just say “If lost, return to Stratt.” My lab coat’s collar is probably only tall enough to cover it halfway, and almost all the shirts I brought are crewnecks. Maybe I can grab some bandages to cover it up? That could work. It’ll raise questions, and probably chafe pretty bad, but it’s better than showing up to work wearing a bright red collar.
I make a note as I walk back to my room, towel over my neck, to scrounge something up before the meeting tomorrow. It’s only 6 now, I should wake up with plenty of time—
My alarm is going off. It’s 5:55? I’ve slept through the first three! I tumble out of bed and throw on the nearest set of clothes. Opening the door brings me face to face with Eva Stratt, flanked by three security guards. I don’t recognize any of them as Hernandez.
“Good, you’re awake.” That’s all she says before I’m hustled out of the room and into the main conference room. The security guards don’t leave even after I’ve sat down, flanking me in a way that feels very claustrophobic. Everyone is already here, even though I’m technically early. Understandably, they’re all looking at me. I scratch my neck self-consciously.
Stratt stays standing. “We have successfully retrieved Doctor Grace. Applause!” The room erupts. I bury my face in my hands. “We have a lot of ground to cover, so let’s please keep this moving along. Doctor Lokken, your progress?”
The meeting is difficult. Despite nearly 12 hours of sleep the night before, I have trouble keeping my eyes open. Each department head tells me every problem they’ve had all week—an extensive list, that I’m supposed to have some kind of organized response to. I do my best, but it’s difficult to stay focused on a conversation when your conversation partner won’t stop looking riiiight below your face.
After what feels like a thousand years of answering questions about science and technology that didn’t exist last week, Stratt takes pity on me and cuts the meeting short. “For the sake of our poor scientist’s health, we are going to get back to this in three hours. Any objections?” She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer. “Alright. Good. I will see you all then. Get to work.”
I stay seated while the project leaders and department heads quickly file out. There’s a weird tension in the air, there has been the whole time, really, and it becomes especially evident in how people acknowledge me as they leave the room. My coworkers dip their heads respectfully as they pass, some muttering “Dr. Grace” in farewell. I guess it’s nice to know that I was missed?
Stratt hasn’t left yet, and neither has the security detail. She gives me a paper itinerary and an apologetic look. “I’ve had to put off some important visits because of your departure. I’m giving you a lighter day today to allow for your recovery, but starting tomorrow, we have a lot of planes to catch.” I think those kidnappers might have killed me, and this is hell.
Stratt checks her watch. “Hm. Get some food, Doctor Grace. Your blood pressure is low.”
“Wait, how do you…” It’s fun to watch my heartbeat spike on the device while I realize that yep, she’s tracking my vitals. “Stratt, this is too far. You can’t just—“
”I can and I will do what it takes to save humanity. You saw what happened while you were gone. With you secure, our chances of success skyrocket. I’m not taking any more risks with you.”
I laugh nervously. “Was that a compliment? Who are you and what did you do with Stratt?”
She doesn’t seem to think that’s funny. “Get your affairs in order. Familiarize yourself with your schedule. And—“ she glances at my hand as I absentmindedly scratch at the collar. “—remember that option one is still on the table.”
I decide to ignore that and take my glasses off to read over the itinerary. She’s got me on something of a free period until lunch, then I’m stuck between meetings and labs until evening. She’s sentenced me to an 8 PM bedtime. The leash-backpack kid image is only getting stronger. I drop the paper into my bag and return my hands to fidgeting with the collar.
Stratt starts leaving, and one of the security guys follows. She turns to me briefly before walking out the door.
“We care about you, Grace,” she assures me. “Really, we do.”
