“Another man walked in then,” Franz continues, “followed by an android. I could tell it was an android by the silver band around his neck. That was the only way I could tell. The likeness to a human male was extraordinary. I don’t believe we have that model in Germany.” He smiles then, but it looks more like a grimace.

Clearing his throat, he continues. “They tried to take Anna from me again, but she fought them, and they began to handle her roughly.” He winces, remembering the repeated blows raining down upon her soft flesh and his own inability to stop them. Anna responds by going to her tiptoes and placing a soft kiss on his stubbled cheek. He smiles down at her with great affection and love. “My Anna,” he whispers. “Such a fighter.”

Anna returns the smile, then looks over at her avid listeners. “The android pulled the man off of me and threw him across the room, like he was a doll.” Her eyes close briefly. “I heard his neck snap. It was a sound I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

Kirsten nods in empathy, having more than her own store of things she’ll never forget. “What happened then?” she asks softly.

“The android was looking down at me,” Anna continues, voice little more than a whisper, gaze dim with memories. “His eyes…so cold…so cold.”

Franz steps in. “The third man approached, his hands raised like this.” He demonstrated, arms raised, palms out in a gesture of placation. “He apologized for the ‘misunderstanding’, as he called it. Said there had been a big mistake.”

Koda smothers a snort of derision behind a cough. Kirsten eyes her knowingly.

“He said that Anna was…needed—for what, he refused to say. He told me that if I allowed her to go with them, my life would be spared and I could join her. I agreed.” His looks up, eyes beseeching. “What else could I do? They had guns.”

“Where did you wind up?” Koda asks, cutting to the chase.

“I’m not sure I know the word for it in English,” Franz explains. “It was like a hospital, but not.”

“An Urgent Care Center?” Kirsten asks.

Franz looks at his wife, who translates the phrase into German. He shakes his head in the negative. “No, not that. It was more…where women go to give birth, but not a hospital. I wish I….”

“A birthing center,” Koda hazards.

“Yes! Exactly right! We were taken there by bus. It was a short trip, perhaps an hour. No more.”

“Do you remember the name of it?” Kirsten asks.

“No, I’m sorry, I never saw a name,” Franz replies, crestfallen. “I could, perhaps, describe the building, but….”

“That’s alright.” Kirsten waves him off for the moment. “What happened next?”

“As we were being taken out of the bus, I began to have cramps. I thought I was losing my baby.” Her hands move instinctively to cup the bulge of her pregnancy. “I was terrified.”

Franz pulls his wife in close, holding her in a warm and supportive embrace. She rests her head on his shoulder, accepting and relishing the calm, quiet support. “They took me to an examination ward right away,” Anna continues. “There were four others like myself in the ward. Franz was the only man. They let him stay because I screamed so loudly, I think.”

Laughing softly, Franz presses a kiss into Anna’s hair, then releases her and stretches his arms. “You did scream, my love. I feared for the windows.”

“I’m guessing things turned out alright,” Kirsten mentions, nodding toward Anna’s pregnant belly.

“Oh yes. There was a doctor there. A human doctor. Doctor Hoek, an obstetrician. He told me the cramping was a result of stress, but that my baby was fine. I was so relieved.”

“Did he tell you why you were there?” Koda asks, cutting to the chase once again.

“No,” Franz replies. “I asked, but he wouldn’t say.”

“Wouldn’t? Or couldn’t?”

“A little of both, perhaps. I think, maybe, that he feared saying anything that could be overheard more than anything else.”

“How did you escape?”

Franz smiles. “He left the door unlocked when he left that evening. He might have done it on purpose. Anna believes so.”

“Yes, I do. He let you stay with me. He didn’t have to do that.”

“There wasn’t anyone left to watch over you?” Kirsten asks, surprised.

“A human female. She was asleep in a chair. I don’t think they were worried about escape. We were all women in danger of losing our babies, after all. How could we run?”

“So you left.”

“Yes,” Franz replies. “I asked the others to join us. Begged them, even. But they refused.” He nods at the looks of surprise on the faces of his listeners. “They were like sheep, afraid to break away. Finally, I gave up. I wouldn’t risk Anna’s safety on their stubbornness. We saw the chance, and we took it. We ran.”

“And we kept on running,” Anna adds. “I was still cramping, but I didn’t care. I kept running, and running, and running. When I couldn’t, Franz carried me through the snow and the woods. We were lost and we were cold, but we were also free, and that was more important than anything in the world.”

“We were rescued the next afternoon by a group heading for this base, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Do you think you could find that place again?” Koda asks.

“I wouldn’t want to,” Franz exclaims.

“I realize that, but do you think you could?”

“I doubt it. I never saw a name, and I’ve never been to this part of America before.” He looks down from Koda’s intense gaze. “I suppose, with a map….”

“Let’s go, then.”

*

“Okay,” Maggie says, leaning over the back of the MP’s chair, careful not to bump against the precariously high stacks of files or the small mountain range of blank forms that marches along the narrow shelf of built in desk that occupies two walls and crowds up against the bank of twelve-inch monitors. She has been in any number of closets larger than this cramped guardroom. “ Two down. That leaves us who?”

“McCallum and Buxton, Ma’am.”

”McCallum’s our little jewel, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah.” The guard punches code into his keyboard, and the cell monitor comes to life. Major Leonard Boudreaux of the Base Comptrollor’s Office, a paralegal in his pre-CPA misspent youth, perches uncomfortably on the edge of the single chair, urgently taking notes. His long face is drawn down with the effort, distaste or both; a thin film of sweat sheens his balding scalp. Boudreax’s lips are pinched above a sharp chin, nostrils drawn in as if he smells something disagreeable. Maggie can see McCallum’s mouth moving, but the audio is muted to preserve attorney-client privilege. The prisoner’s big hands saw the air as he makes his point, fist pounding into palm to drive it home. “He doesn’t want anything to read, isn’t interested in any kind of video that we can let him have—“

“Let me guess,” Maggie interrupts dryly. “He wants porno?”

The MP nods. “And when we tell him he can’t have it, he just lies there on his bunk and jerks off for the camera. Especially when he knows a woman’s got the guard duty.”

“Nice.”

“Classic sex offender. He’s let a couple things slip when we bring him his meals. He’s done time for rape before.”

“Surprise, surprise.” She straightens up, rubbing the back of her neck. A trip hammer pounds in her head, keeping the metaphorical headache company. “Send them on into the interrogation room when Boudreaux’s ready. I’ll wait there.”

The interrogation room is equally cramped—a small table, four chairs, the single overhead light with its metal shade. A brief review of her notes on the other two accused offers no inspiration. Another folder holds transcripts of interviews she has conducted with the women of the Mandan and Rapid City jails.

Q: Would you state your name for the record, please.

A. Cynthia F* * *

Q: What is your profession, Ms. F* * *?

A: I am—that is, I was—a kindergarden teacher.

Q. Ms. F* * *, how did you come to be imprisoned in the CCA facility in Rapid City?

A. I was taken prisoner in the droid uprising.

Q: Can you tell us what happened?

A; Droids attacked the school where I worked. They killed all the adult men on the staff, and all the women older than forty or so.

Q: What about the children?

A: They—they—I’m sorry. . . .

DEAD AIR ON TAPE: 2.6 MINUTES

Q: Can I get you anything, Ms. F* * *?

A: No, I’m all right. I can— What did you ask?

Q: What happened to the children?

A: They—the droids—they killed all the older kids, the fourth, fifth and sixth graders.

Q: The others?

A: I don’t know. They—took them—off—somewhere. I don’t know where

Q: And what happened to you?

A: They took me and all the other younger women to the jail..

DEAD AIR ON TAPE: 1.2 MINUTES

A (continued): There were some men in the prison. They raped us.

The accounts have been remarkably consistent. So have the interviews, so far, with their assailants.

One of the two men Maggie has already had the displeasure of talking to had been up for minor drug dealing; the other for a convenience store robbery. Both, ably advised by Boudreaux, had gone stone mute except for brief, formulaic assertions of their Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination. According to the Rapid City prison records, McCallum is the only one of the four actually convicted on sex charges: two counts of rape, another of possessing and offering for sale pornographic materials depicting minors He is unlikely to be any more fruitful than the others, assuming that Boudreaux is able to get his swaggering machismo under control. Her best hope is Buxton, who seems to be ashamed of his actions and who has no prior history of violence. He had been en route to a federal prison for tax evasion when the uprising occurred. Always assuming, of course, that any of them know anything at all about the droids’ purposes.