Rick Mofina - Free Fall

He burned through the pages and the awful truth screamed at him.

Oh God .

Cole drew his shaking hands over his face to stop the room from spinning as he struggled to absorb the implications.

If Veyda had written the emails, was she also responsible for the Heathrow crash and the EastCloud incident?

News images of the bodies amid the fiery Shikra wreckage, the video of horrified passengers on the EastCloud flight, swirled before him.

Did Veyda cause this? Is my little girl a murderer?

He glanced at his photos: Veyda the diapered baby sleeping on his chest. Veyda on her bicycle. Veyda receiving academic awards.

God, please. No.

Maybe she’d written the emails but hadn’t hacked into the RT system? The one he’d designed. But she was brilliant. She’d studied the engineering of systems much of her academic life. This could be Veyda’s revenge for Elizabeth’s death.

In killing my mother, you killed part of me. I no longer want you in my life. I never want to see you again. You are not my father and I am not your daughter.

Veyda’s words hammered against his brain and his heart.

Cole had to do something.

I’ll call the FBI. I’ll tell them.

Suddenly he envisioned a SWAT team descending on Veyda, wherever she was. They could hurt her. Or she could hurt herself.

They could kill her.

No, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, go to the FBI.

No, this is my fault. I created this monstrous situation! I have to find her. Veyda’s mind is broken. She needs help. I have to find her, get a lawyer, surrender her properly and bring this all to an end.

But how?

He held his head in his hands, listening to the table making soft vibrations from his trembling as he searched for an answer. He needed a drink. There were bottles at the hangar. He could go get them, take a drink, just one to help him think.

No. No. That’s not what he needed.

He got up, washed his face, put on a clean shirt and combed his hair. He sat before his laptop, activated his camera and microphone and made a short video. After three takes he’d settled on one and replayed it, watching himself, tears in his eyes as he pleaded to his daughter.

Cole knew full well the risks he’d face at every turn if he released this video. But he had no choice. Lives were at stake and time was running out.

Hyattsville, Maryland

Veyda’s monitor came alive with a blizzard of tiny animated planes representing the nearly six thousand commercial flights moving over the continental United States at this moment.

Look at them. Throngs of ordinary people speeding to their destinations.

She studied the living, breathing activity with the fascination of a self-appointed god looking over a thriving anthill. She was proud of the work she and Seth had done.

Now it’s time we enlighten the world .

Veyda clicked and her monitor changed to show activity by specific airline. Another click and the screen showed flights in and out of specific airports and hubs. She sampled them, clicking on Atlanta, then Albuquerque, then Boston, Chicago, Dallas, Fargo, Houston, Jacksonville, Kansas City, Minneapolis, Omaha, Phoenix, Pittsburgh, Raleigh, San Diego and so on.

She clicked again and she saw flights by aircraft make and model. Another click showed all traffic over each state. Another showed specific routes. Another click showed control towers across the United States. Then she clicked on radar approach facilities, then traffic control centers.

“It’s a technological wonder-a beautiful, powerful tool, Seth!”

“We’re set,” he said, placing luggage at the front door. “Just have to lock on to the selection, employ our software, enter our codes and we’re good.” He surveyed the equipment on his worktable, deciding on which laptops he needed to take with them.

At her desk, Veyda leaned forward, staring deep into her monitor and thinking.

What about Kate Page?

Veyda hadn’t landed on the punishment she wanted to administer to that insolent, insufferable Gamma girl.

We haven’t seen any new stories. What’s up with her?

Veyda’s keyboard clicked and she browsed Kate Page’s private information through the path Seth had created. Nothing new jumped out at Veyda until…

Wait…what’s this? I don’t believe it!

“Seth, come here and look at this!” Veyda tapped her monitor. “Look!”

Seth drew his face to the screen.

“Damn, she’s just boarded a flight to Los Angeles. Wow!” he said.

“Can we adjust things to capitalize on it?”

“Let me see.”

Seth moved to his desk and began working, clicking on graphs, charts and maps, making calculations while Veyda studied the new information. Kate Page had a round-trip flight from Kennedy to LAX.

Why’s she going to California? What’s that girl up to? Is she on to something? Working something with the FBI? It doesn’t matter. We’re too far advanced to be stopped. If anything, this is a gift, a golden opportunity .

“Okay, done,” Seth said.

“So we can do it?”

“Yes, it was easy. We just need to fine-tune the coding, but it also means we’re changing our plans.”

“Great.”

“We’ve got a little over two hours. Are you done packing?”

“Almost.”

A chime notification sounded on one of Seth’s laptops.

“What’s that?” Veyda asked.

“I set up a notification alert for anything that comes up online with your name or my name.”

Seth clicked on a new video posted online.

“Oh, no,” he said.

“What is it?”

Seth moved so Veyda could meet the face of her father, Robert Cole. Seth looked at her. She blinked as her face tightened with anger.

“Play it,” she said.

Her father’s head and shoulders appeared and tears filled his eyes as he pleaded.

“Veyda, sweetheart, this is your father. Whatever you’re doing or thinking of doing, please stop. We have to talk. I’m begging you. I want to help you, and me, too. You know how to reach me. You will always be my daughter and I will always be your father. I love you. Please call me. Please, Veyda.”

For the last fifteen seconds the video showed a montage of photos: Veyda, the toddler, asleep on her father’s chest at his desk; Veyda and her dad with her first two-wheeler; Veyda with her parents at the beach.

Then the video froze.

Nothing in the video identified the family name-but it wouldn’t take long before someone somewhere zeroed in on it.

Veyda stared at the image, not moving. Her nostrils flared, her breathing deepening as emotion raged through her.

“Veyda?” Seth asked. “Are you going to be okay?”

Beyond Seth’s worktable the large TV screen continued playing footage of the Heathrow crash and the EastCloud cabin video. The churning of passengers triggered Veyda’s memory of the car accident that had killed her mother…

Oh my God, Mom, the winters in Cambridge are absolutely cruel…

Then their car was airborne… They were rolling… The screams… Glass shattering, metal crunching… Rolling…rolling… Her mother was pinned under the car…

Her father was shouting… Elizabeth!

Her mother screaming her name… Veyda!

Mom! She was crawling to them…blood webbing her face… Mom! Sirens…shouting…a helicopter…everything turning black…

“Veyda?” Seth was concerned.

Veyda was transfixed by her father’s video, staring at the monitor as she spoke to it.

“I have a right. What he did. What he took from me. I have a right.”