[Earth — 4 hours before the crossing.]
David's left hand was a ruin of blood and bone. Three fingers gone, severed at the knuckles with surgical precision. The Captain had used something that looked like wire cutters, pressing down with methodical patience while David screamed himself hoarse. Each heartbeat sent fresh waves of agony up his arm, but the pain was nothing compared to watching Vivian's face as they forced her to witness every cut.
The dining room where they'd celebrated Thomas's fourteenth birthday last week had become an interrogation chamber. David could still see the faint stain on the wallpaper where Amelie had thrown frosting during the cake fight. Now rope burns cut into his wrists, the same chair where he'd sat opening presents transformed into an instrument of torture. Blood dripped steadily from his mangled hand onto the hardwood floor Vivian had spent months refinishing, each drop marking another second of this nightmare.
His wedding ring lay on the table, removed before they'd started cutting. The Captain had placed it there deliberately, where David could see it but not reach it. A reminder of what he was losing.
"Captain," the operative with the radio said, adjusting his tactical vest. "Children secured. En route to the facility."
The words hit David like a physical blow. Amelie. Thomas. Their babies, ripped from Roosevelt Middle School during lunch period, probably terrified and confused. He could still smell Amelie's strawberry shampoo from when he'd braided her hair that morning, could still hear Thomas complaining about his algebra homework. Normal Tuesday things. Normal family things that now felt like they'd happened in another lifetime.
Vivian's head snapped up, hatred blazing in her eyes as she stared at the wall monitor they'd wheeled in. The split screen showed four faces that had destroyed their lives. President Monroe occupied the upper left, his expression carefully neutral as he observed the carnage. British Prime Minister Hale appeared on the right, jaw set in a hard line. Below them, two of the most powerful tech CEOs in the world completed the video conference. Marcus Chen avoided Vivian's gaze, clearly disturbed by witnessing the torture in real-time but lacking the courage to object.
"I already told you I'll..." Vivian's voice cracked. "Just take me to the lab, okay? I'll do... whatever."
Her composure crumbled mid-sentence. David watched his brilliant wife, the woman who could solve quantum equations in her head, reduced to begging.
"But my kids? Jesus Christ, why did you have to... they're eight and fourteen! What the hell is wrong with you people?"
The scream echoed through the house, raw and primal. David felt his own control slipping with each drop of blood that left his body. The pain medication they'd given him was wearing off, leaving behind a white-hot agony that made thinking difficult.
"Mrs. Heasley." Hale's voice carried that tired bureaucrat tone David recognized from his detective days. Politicians who'd made the same speech so many times they sounded bored with their own words. "Look, we've been over this. Your portal thing? Seventeen million people lose their jobs overnight. Just in shipping."
"Same goddamn speech every..."
"Because you won't listen!" Monroe cut her off, leaning forward on screen. "Six months, Vivian. Six months of you acting like we're idiots who don't understand economics."
David had lived through those six months. The increasingly tense phone calls, government officials appearing at their door with briefcases full of NDAs and veiled threats. Vivian working later and later in her lab, coming home with dark circles under her eyes and trembling hands.
"You're all..." Vivian struggled for words, tears mixing with rage. "This could save lives. People dying because medicine can't reach them fast enough, families torn apart by distance, and you're worried about stock prices?"
"It's not about stock prices," Monroe rubbed his face, looking older than his sixty-two years. "It's about stability. Order. You can't just... you can't revolutionize human transportation overnight and expect civilization to adapt."
David watched his brilliant wife, the woman who'd worked eighteen-hour days believing she could change the world for the better. The Scarlet Portal had been her life's work, five years of breakthrough physics that could transport matter instantly across any distance. She'd shown him the early tests, toys and lab equipment appearing and disappearing in flashes of crimson light. Magic made science.
Instead of changing the world, she'd painted a target on their family.
Monroe rubbed his face. "Vivian, I'm... Christ, I'm tired of this. Six months of the same conversation. Your lawyers, your German friends calling my office every day. We're done talking." He looked directly at the camera. "Marcus gets your project now. At least he gets it."
"Gets what? How to steal from friends?"
"How the world actually works," Adam Mercer jumped in, sounding almost bored. The youngest CEO on the call, barely thirty-five, with the kind of casual arrogance that came from never being told no. "Look, we've all memorized your TED talk by now. Save the world, unite humanity, blah blah. But you can't just... you can't drop something like this and expect everyone to just deal with it."
The Captain stepped forward, his voice professionally neutral. "We're wasting time. Six months of negotiations. Should have done this from the beginning."
David's voice came out hoarse. "What's the rush? You got what you wanted. You got our..." His voice broke slightly. "You got them."
The Captain said nothing. Just checked his watch with the mechanical precision of a man following orders. David had worked with operators like this during his NYPD days. They didn't question, didn't doubt, didn't care about the human cost. They had objectives and timelines.
Marcus's voice was barely audible through the speakers. "Viv, you... we talked about this already. When you found out last month. I told you I was trying to..."
"Trying to what?" Her voice went flat, dead. "Two years, Marcus. Two fucking years. Sophie's birthday parties. Thanksgiving dinners. You sat at my table."
David remembered those dinners. Marcus bringing wine, playing chess with Thomas, listening to Amelie practice violin. All of it performance. All of it surveillance.
"I know, I know it's..."
"You watched my kids grow up while reporting every word I said."
"Oh for fuck's sake," Adam cut in, his patience clearly exhausted. "Can we skip the guilt trip? We've all heard this speech. Fifty times, Vivian. Fifty. Nobody cares about your feelings. You built something that would crash the global economy overnight. What did you think would happen?"
Vivian stared at the screen, and David saw something break behind her eyes. The last of her faith in human decency, maybe.
"I thought... I thought people were better than this."
"Yeah, well. Surprise."
"The terrorism thing again?" Hale sounded genuinely annoyed. "Every bloody meeting. Terrorists with portals, nuclear bombs popping up in city centers. We've shown you the reports, Vivian."
"Those are worst-case scenarios designed to..."
"Designed to what? Keep us awake at night? They're real possibilities. Your technology in the wrong hands could end civilization as we know it."
David had seen those intelligence reports during one of the briefings. Scenarios that read like horror novels. Instant transportation meant instant warfare, borders rendered meaningless, every defense strategy in human history obsolete overnight.
"Enough!" Monroe's fist hit the desk hard enough to rattle his coffee cup. "Jesus Christ, we're doing this again? No. We're done. Captain, move them. I want her at the lab in an hour."
The Captain nodded sharply. "Copy that."
"Get his hand looked at. We need him conscious."
"Why?" David managed through gritted teeth.
"Because she loves you," the Captain said simply. "Makes things easier."
Vivian made a sound like she was choking. "When this is over, when my kids are safe, I'm going to..."
"No, you're not." Monroe's voice went quiet, more dangerous than when he'd been shouting. "You're not going to do anything. Ever again. We offered you a deal three times. New names, money, your kids get good schools. You said no every time." He paused, letting that sink in. "This is what happens when you say no to us, Vivian."
David watched something break inside his wife. Her shoulders sagged, the fight finally going out of her. He wanted to comfort her, but his good hand was zip-tied to the chair.
"My team," she whispered. "I need... I need my full team."
"Done," Marcus said quickly, relief evident in his voice.
"Don't." Vivian's voice was barely audible. "Don't talk to me like we're still friends."
The screen went dark, leaving them in sudden quiet broken only by the sound of David's blood dripping and his ragged breathing. The Captain moved with efficient precision, cutting David's bonds while a medic appeared with a field surgery kit.
"You tried," David said as the medic began cleaning his wounds. The antiseptic burned like acid. "That's... that's something."
"I screwed up." Vivian couldn't meet his eyes. "I thought I was smarter than them."
"You are smarter."
"Smart people don't get their kids kidnapped."
The medic worked in silence, applying synthetic skin grafts and nerve blocks. Military-grade medical care, designed to keep someone functional rather than comfortable. David would never regain full use of his left hand, but he'd be able to move it. Good enough for their purposes.
"Five minutes," the Captain said. "Pack light."
Vivian looked around their destroyed bedroom. "What's the point? It's all gone anyway."
As they were escorted upstairs, David noticed their home had been methodically searched. Drawers hung open, papers scattered across every surface. In Vivian's study, her computer screens still glowed with fragments of equations that had doomed their family. The Scarlet Portal project, named for its distinctive red energy signature, had been five years of her life reduced to stolen data.
"They've copied everything," Vivian observed, her scientific mind still cataloging even in crisis.
"Not everything," David said quietly, remembering encrypted drives hidden in Thomas's old toy chest. Vivian had insisted on the precaution, paranoid even then. Not paranoid enough, apparently.
"Doesn't matter now," she said, defeat coloring every word.
In their bedroom, they packed under watchful eyes. David struggled one-handed while Vivian helped him, her movements gentle despite everything. Such a normal married gesture made surreal by the circumstances.
"The portal could have done so much good," Vivian said as she folded his shirts. "Instant transportation anywhere in the world. No more shipping delays, no carbon emissions from freight. Medical supplies to disaster zones in seconds. Families reunited across continents." Her voice grew smaller. "I was going to change everything."
"You still might," David offered. "Just... differently than you planned."
"As a weapon. They'll use it for military applications first. Troops deployed instantly behind enemy lines. Nuclear weapons delivered without missiles." She paused. "The same technology that could have united humanity will be used to perfect the art of killing."
But David caught something else in her expression. A flicker of fear that had nothing to do with government appropriation of her technology.
"Viv," he said quietly. "What aren't you telling me?"
She looked up sharply, then glanced at the guards. "Later," she mouthed silently.
The Captain appeared in the doorway. "Time's up."
Outside, three black SUVs waited in their driveway, engines running like mechanical predators. The suburban street was eerily quiet. David noticed curtains twitching in nearby windows, neighbors who'd learned it was safer to look away.
"Separate vehicles," the Captain ordered.
"No," Vivian said immediately. "We stay together."
"Not your call."
"Then I don't cooperate." Vivian's chin lifted in defiance. "You need me functional. Separating me from my husband after what you've done isn't how you get cooperation."
The Captain spoke quietly into his radio, receiving instructions David couldn't hear. After a moment, he nodded. "Fine. But any problems..."
"There won't be," David assured him. He had no fight left, not with his children held hostage.
The SUV's interior smelled of leather and gun oil. Vivian pressed against David's good side as city lights blurred past the tinted windows. Outside, the normal world continued, people heading home from work, picking up groceries, living lives that hadn't been destroyed by scientific breakthrough.
"I keep thinking about this morning," Vivian said softly. "Amelie didn't want to go to school. Said she had a bad feeling. I told her it was just nerves about her math test."
"You couldn't have known."
"Couldn't I? Six months of signs. The moved meetings, Marcus acting strange, those security consultants Monroe sent in April. They photographed everything, mapped every room." She shook her head. "I thought I had more time. I thought they'd keep negotiating."
"This isn't your fault."
But even as he said it, David wondered. There had been signs. Late night phone calls that Vivian had taken in another room. Increased security at the lab. The way she'd started insisting they always know where the kids were.
"Sir," the driver said suddenly. "Problem ahead. Roadblock. Looks like... press."
The Captain leaned forward, speaking rapidly into his radio. David felt Vivian tense beside him. Media had been circling the portal story for weeks, sensing something big.
"How did they know?" the Captain demanded.
"Someone leaked. Social media's lighting up. Video of armed men at the Heasley residence. It's going viral."
The Captain cursed, the first genuinely human response David had heard from him. Six months of careful containment blown at the worst possible moment.
"Alternative route," he ordered. "Now."
The convoy veered right, taking an unfamiliar exit that led into an industrial district David didn't recognize. As they descended into an area of abandoned factories and rusted warehouses, Vivian's hand tightened on his.
"This isn't the way to my lab."
"Secondary location. Primary site is compromised."
"My children. You said they were at the laboratory."
"They're being redirected."
"You lied." Vivian's voice was dangerously calm. "You looked me in the eye and lied about my children."
"They're safe. That's all you need to know."
David felt his last restraint evaporate. With his good hand, he lunged for the Captain, but the operative was ready. In one fluid motion, he drew his sidearm, pressing the barrel against David's temple.
"Let's not do anything that would leave your children without a father."
"You bastard."
The Captain said nothing. Orders were orders. Emotions were irrelevant.
The convoy pulled into an abandoned warehouse complex, broken windows reflecting their headlights like dead eyes. This wasn't a government facility. This was something off the books, something that didn't officially exist.
"Transition point," the Captain explained as they exited the vehicles. "Set up three months ago when it became clear you wouldn't cooperate voluntarily."
David counted at least twenty operatives stationed around the perimeter. Professional soldiers with modern equipment, not that he could fight them in his condition.
"Before we go in," Vivian said, stopping suddenly. "I need to know my children are alive."
"They are."
"Prove it."
The Captain sighed, then pulled out a secure phone. After a brief conversation, he handed it to Vivian. David leaned close, hearing a small voice on the other end that made his heart break.
"Mommy?"
"Amelie!" Vivian's voice cracked. "Baby, are you okay? Is Thomas with you?"
"He's here. We're scared, Mommy. The men won't tell us what's happening. They said you and Daddy were in trouble."
"We're coming to get you. Be brave for me, okay? Take care of your brother."
"He's taking care of me," Amelie said, and David could hear tears in her eight-year-old voice. "When are you coming?"
"Soon, baby. Very soon. I love you."
"I love you too, Mommy. Here's Thomas..."
The Captain took the phone back before Thomas could speak. "Satisfied?"
"Barely," Vivian said, but hearing Amelie's voice had both strengthened and broken her.
Inside the warehouse, temporary lights created harsh pools of illumination. A medical station waited in the center, complete with monitoring equipment and what looked like a minor surgery setup.
"Tracking implants," the Captain explained matter-of-factly. "Standard procedure for high-value assets."
"We're people, not assets."
"You were people. Now you're something else. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."
As medical technicians approached with their equipment, David caught Vivian's eye. In that look, volumes passed between them. Love, regret, determination, fear. All the emotions of a marriage tested beyond its limits.
"Together," she mouthed.
"Always," he replied.
The technicians worked with brutal efficiency. Subcutaneous implants, the Captain explained, impossible to remove without major surgery. They would monitor location, vital signs, even detect certain chemical changes that might indicate deception or planning.
"The children too?" Vivian asked quietly.
"Already done."
David closed his eyes, imagining Thomas and Amelie undergoing the same procedure. His brave son, his musical daughter, marked like livestock. The rage that filled him was useless, impotent. He'd failed in the most fundamental duty of a parent.
"Now what?" Vivian asked as the technicians finished.
"Now we wait for transport to the facility. Your real work begins tomorrow."
"And if I refuse to work?"
The Captain's expression didn't change. "Your children will be placed in separate foster homes. Different states. You'll never see them again. They'll be told you died."
"You're a monster," David said.
"I'm effective. There's a difference."
Hours blurred together in uncomfortable plastic chairs. They were given military rations that tasted like cardboard and water that tasted like chlorine. David's hand was properly treated by an actual doctor, who informed him dispassionately that he'd likely never regain full function. Vivian sat beside him through it all, her presence the only thing keeping him grounded.
As dawn broke through the warehouse's broken windows, painting everything in shades of grey and gold, their final transport arrived. A nondescript white van, the kind used by thousands of businesses every day. Anonymous. Forgettable.
"One last thing," the Captain said as they prepared to leave. "Your old lives are over. David and Vivian Heasley died in a home invasion last night. Tragic story. The children are missing, presumed taken by the attackers. There will be a manhunt, of course, but no leads. Eventually, the case will go cold."
"Our families," Vivian said. "Our friends..."
"Will mourn you. Some of them have been prepared for this possibility. We've been doing subtle groundwork for months. 'Vivian's been looking stressed.' 'David seems worried about something.' 'They've been getting threats about her research.' It's cleaner this way. The dead don't cause problems."
As they climbed into the van, David took one last look at the warehouse, at the dawn sky beyond. Somewhere out there, the world was waking up to a normal Tuesday. People were brewing coffee, checking their phones, complaining about traffic. They had no idea that the future had just been stolen, locked away by people who claimed to act in their best interests.
The van doors closed with a final click. In the darkness, Vivian found his hand again, her fingers tracing patterns on his palm. Their old code from when they were dating, silent messages across crowded rooms.
But as the van began to move, David caught something in Vivian's expression that had nothing to do with their current situation. A deeper worry, something that had been eating at her for weeks.
"Viv," he whispered. "What's really scaring you?"
She hesitated, then leaned close to his ear. "My family," she breathed, so quietly he almost missed it. "Dorothy and Zoey. They've been asking too many questions about the portal. And some of the old stories... I think they're planning something."
Before he could ask what she meant, the van began its descent into the underground facility.
"ETA twenty minutes," the Captain announced from the front. "Your children are waiting, Dr. Heasley."
David felt Vivian tense beside him. There was more to this than government appropriation of her technology. Something family-related that she'd been keeping from him.
"Together," he whispered, trying to reassure her.
"Always," she replied, but the word sounded like a prayer now.
The van carried them toward answers David wasn't sure he wanted to know. Behind them, the sun continued to rise, painting the sky the color of blood. The same red that Vivian had described when she'd first told him about the portal's energy signature.
Scarlet. Like a warning.