Sarah folded her arms as the elevator doors closed. In contemplation, she brought one hand up to her chin, her forefinger caressing the area below her lower lip. As unreal and futuristic as the TXP Facility seemed, none of this surprised her after her stint on Arcturus, and that was twenty-five years ago. But what piqued her interest was Wolf's shameless plug regarding the place. If the surface level of the facility appeared so grand, what secrets might the subterranean levels hold? She had a feeling she would soon find out.

Wolf pushed the button labeled number seven, and the elevator began its descent. "We should talk about Jake."

"No, we shouldn't." Sarah cut her gaze toward him with a sidelong glance. A spark ignited behind her eyes. "It would be best for you to drop the subject now."

"I'm sure it bothers you knowing he's stranded on that ice ball moon."

Sarah's brow rose a notch higher, overshadowing the fire heating her cheeks. "It bothers me knowing that if it weren't for any of this," she waved her hand about, "he wouldn't be in this predicament."

"But it's been so long since you've seen him; I thought you would have moved on by now. I tried to tell the admiral—"

Sarah's hand flew up without warning.

The back of Wolf's head slammed against the wall of the elevator. He cried out like a hyena caught in the grip of a lion.

Sarah didn't remember how she started choking him, her hand clutching his neck, her fingernails digging into his whisker laden skin. She only knew she had him pinned, and he was gasping for air, gagging sounds bursting from his throat. He tried to force her hand away, but she tightened her strangle hold.

"Let go." He gargled more than said. His voice echoed somewhere distant. He was saying her name.

"Sarah," he cried.

Like waking from a dream or one of her trances, the episode ended. She came to herself, shaking her head and trembling all over. The violent outburst left her mind reeling in a whirlwind of oblivion. With a gasp, she released Wolf and shrank away into the corner of the elevator. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't mean to choke me half to death?" Wolf spat. His eyes bulged and watered, his face flushed red. He caressed his throat, emitting small grunts while panting and grimacing. He bent over at the waist, heaving for breath. "You... you were trying to kill me."

"Maybe you should watch what you say?"

He blinked at her, coughed to the side, still gagging on the fresh air flooding his lungs. "You've gone bat-rabies mad. Maybe I should shoot you with the dart gun? Keep you under control."

Sarah remained silent. When the doors opened to the seventh subfloor, she glanced away, unable to justify what she had done. When she couldn't take standing beside Wolf any longer, she exited the elevator and paused in the empty hallway, waiting for him to join her. In the wake of her outburst, she held the door open, allowing him the opportunity to gather his nerves and calm down. Seconds ticked by as he swallowed, rubbing his neck, his eyes becoming less wild. Once he pulled himself together, he strode out into the hallway, his ego appearing bruised as he waved for her to follow him.

"Come on, this way," he said, a creak in his voice.

Wolf led her down a corridor hewn from rough-rock and lined with doors. Polished black marble tile covered the floors and reflected a glare of the overhead lights. He stopped at a door identified with the number seven. He pressed his palm against a black plate on the wall. With a metallic click, the door unlatched and cracked ajar.

He pushed inside and glanced back at Sarah. "This is your room. It's easy to remember. The seventh floor on the way down, and the room number is seven." Then he added with a sarcastic flare, "I'm sure you won't have any problem remembering this, seeing you never forget."

Sarah stepped toward him, her gaze narrowing into slits.

Wolf backpedaled, raising a hand in defense. "I meant nothing by it."

"I'm not in the mood for wisecracks. Finish your speech and give me some privacy."

"Gladly. I know this room isn't much, but it'll have to do. There's a tiny bathroom with a shower, and a closet with clothes that should fit. Don't ask me how I knew your size. It's a long story and I'm not going there. Let's just say it's my job to bring you in and see to it you have everything you need." He looked past her at the doorway. "I'll give you thirty minutes to shower and change, and then I'll be back. I have to give you a tour of your lab."

"I have a lab?"

"Well, you know what I mean. It doesn't literally belong to you."

"Get out," Sarah said. As Wolf paced toward the door, she threw in, "I'm sorry about your neck; I haven't been myself lately." She couldn't help but stare at her handiwork. "I left some marks."

Wolf rubbed his throat and winced. "The clock starts now."

After he closed the door with a resounding clunk, Sarah sank into the edge of her cot, face in her hands. She couldn't believe how violent she had become, the smallest of offenses setting her off. The mental pressure felt like a vise around her temples, squeezing ever tighter until she couldn't think straight. She rubbed her eyes, wanting to cleanse her mind of a lifetime of painful memories. She couldn't comprehend how her life had come to this? She felt spent. Not physically, but mentally, like she was an empty shell of her former self, used up and ready to be tossed aside. She had the body of a twenty-year-old, but she was much older. She wondered if elderly people reached a point where they had done all they could do, experienced all they could experience? Or were their minds alert and ambitious while their bodies grew old and frail? Sometimes she wondered if the human brain could overfill with memories and bog down like an old computer. That's the way she felt. Recent events had compacted on top of years of running and hiding, pushing even further away the love she had with Jake and the life she had with the rest of her family and friends. It all blurred together into one giant heartache that grew worse with each passing day. She needed a reboot. A reset. She needed sleep. But for now, she had to choose the next best thing.

In the shower, Sarah let the steaming hot water rain down on her face and wash away the numbness. It seemed to work, but she knew it was a temporary fix. After drying off with a clean towel, she slipped on a pair of jeans and pulled on a navy-blue shirt with long sleeves. As she laced up her boots with damp hair, Wolf knocked on the door, and she invited him in.

"Gotta go," he said, checking his watch, "have a schedule to keep."

They returned to the elevator and selected the thirteenth subfloor. Sarah never liked the number thirteen; it was an odd number, always related to misfortune as long as she could remember. There was probably a good reason they chose that number, a superstitious reason, but it didn't matter. To her, it was all a moot point. Wolf explained they dedicated the entire floor to the project.

The doors parted to reveal a vast network of offices and laboratory rooms, stocked with the latest in lab equipment, from DNA sequencers to cell analyzers to electron microscopes. Each piece of equipment shined like new in the low auxiliary lighting. Wolf flipped a switch and a bank of overhead fluorescents flickered on. Sarah moved around, touching, inspecting, visualizing the work that could take place in the lab. She suspected there was more to the project than perfecting the fountain of youth. Like why did they have a secret habitat on a moon in the far reaches of the solar system? How did her husband get there? And how did he survive all these years?

Sarah flinched at the appearance of a man in a lab jacket, pushing an empty wheelchair. "Dr. Lawson," he said.

She looked at Wolf with a question on her lips, studying the man as he approached. He ran a hand through a rug of curly brown hair and straightened his glasses. He appeared to be in his late forties to early fifties. Seemed a little nervous. Maybe he was wary of Wolf? Or her?

"I'm Dr. Curtis Frazier. I'll be performing your surgery."

"Surgery—what are you talking about?" Sarah stared, dazed and confused.

"Your brain surgery."

A pinprick stung her neck. She turned to Wolf, but by the time she saw him, his face looked blurry, wobbly, like poor reception on an old TV set. "What are you doing?"

"Welcome to the Titan X Project, Sarah," Wolf said as he lowered her into the wheelchair. "You're the key. But don't worry, you'll be up to speed on everything before you know it."

Sarah tried to hold on to consciousness, but like Central Park, as the drug took effect, she faded to black and disappeared into the unknown.