"No," she breathed."No, she wouldn't."
She jabbed at the screen again, harder this time."Cancel.Opt out.Delete."
ERROR, the screen flashed red.CONTRACT FINALIZED BY PROXY: MIRANDA EVANS.
The text vanished, replaced by a countdown timer ticking down with terrifying speed.
TRANSPORT ARRIVAL: 45 MINUTES.
"Forty-five minutes?"Amelia looked from the screen to Emily’s face, her expression shifting from confusion to alarm."Emily, that’s an official transport code.Look at the clearance level.That’s not a glitches-and-spam kind of thing.That’s a 'they come with guns' kind of thing."
Emily stared at the name glowing on her wrist.
Miranda Evans.
Her mother.
Shit.Now everything made sense… The sudden interest in Emily’s schedule, the cryptic comments about the upcoming Gala for Interstellar Relations, the way her mother had looked at her last Sunday?—
"You need to get out of here," Amelia said, looking at the timer."If that thing is real..."
"Oh, it's real."Emily grabbed her bag from the hook on the wall, moving on pure adrenaline now."And I'm going to go strangle the person responsible."
"You're going to your mom's?"
"No.She’s three star systems away on a cruise.Which is typical when she's thrown the cat in among the pigeons."She shoved her arms into her jacket."I’m going down to that office, and I’m going to scream until someone voids this damn contract or calls the police."
* * *
The Latharian MateProgram headquarters was a tower of glass and steel that rose from the city center like a middle finger to the surrounding architecture.It screamed money and power to anyone who glanced its way.
Emily didn’t care.She stormed through the automatic doors, ignoring the startled looks from the perfectly groomed women in the waiting area.Marching straight to the reception desk, she slapped her wrist unit down on the polished marble.
The receptionist, a woman whose skin was so flawless it looked synthetic, blinked slowly."Welcome to the LMP.How may I?—"
"You can explain why I just got a draft notice," Emily cut her off, voice trembling with adrenaline."My name is Emily Evans.I did not sign up.I did not consent.And I want this file deleted.Now."
The receptionist’s polite smile faltered.She glanced down at the console, her fingers flying across the keys."Evans...Evans..."
Her fingers stopped, and the color drained from her face so fast it was alarming.She didn't look up.She didn't speak.She just pressed a button under the desk.A silent, red light began to pulse on the wall behind her.
"Ms.Evans," the receptionist said, her voice breathless and entirely different than before."Please.Step away from the exit."
"I'm not stepping anywhere until you cancel this."
"I...I can’t do that.You need to come with me."The receptionist stood up, smoothing her skirt with shaking hands.She gestured toward a set of heavy, frosted glass doors to the right of the desk."Immediately."
"I'm not going in the back," Emily said, planting her feet."I want to speak to a supervisor out here.Where everyone can see me.”
Two security guards materialized from the shadows of the lobby.They weren't the usual rent-a-cops.These men were armed with kinetic stunners and wore the insignia of the Interstellar Liaison Office.
"Ms.Evans," one of them said, his tone leaving no room for argument."This way."
Her stomach dropped.This wasn't a clerical error.Clerical errors didn't get you flanked by armed guards.
She let them escort her through the doors, down a silent corridor, and into an interrogation room masquerading as a VIP lounge.The walls were tasteful beige, the chairs were plush leather, but there were no windows, and the door locked with a heavy, magneticthudbehind her.
She paced.She checked her wrist unit.
