Chapter 6 chapter Five

The stewardess welcomed him with a smile and a soft and inviting voice. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Grayson. My name is Erin." He didn't know Irene, maybe she was a new hire, and he didn't use the company ships very often.Erin has striking green eyes - probably dyed - and long shiny blond hair - probably dyed too.She looked to be in her early twenties, but of course she couldn't be that young. "Nice to meet you, Irene." He nodded back.He found himself grinning silly at her.There is always no resistance to blondes. "We won't be leaving in a few minutes," she reminded, reaching out to help him with his briefcase. "But your room is ready, please come with me, you can take a rest while the pilot prepares for takeoff."

Grayson studied her figure appreciatively as she walked ahead.She led him down the long hallway to the private VIP cabin in the stern. "I hope you enjoy everything here," she said when they arrived, stepping forward and opening the hatch for him.Grayson walked in. This cabin bears no resemblance to the crude sleeping cabins packed with people on battleships or ordinary long-distance large passenger airships.With a king size bed, the latest video equipment, personal showers and hot tubs, a full wet bar, and every amenity imaginable, it rivals all but the most expensive suites on the planet. compared to any hotel room.

"We'll be at Grism College in eight hours, Mr. Grayson," Irene continued, placing his suitcase in the corner of the room. "Is there anything else you need before you take off?" "I just want to take a break," he said.Every joint in his body ached, and his head was buzzing—a noticeable response to the red sand fading. "Wake me up an hour before I get there." "Of course, Mr. Grayson," she replied, before turning away, closing the door behind her. He took off his clothes and suddenly realized that he was sweating profusely.There was still a residual tremor in his left hand as he went to unbutton his shirt.But it never occurred to him to bother with his appearance, he needed the rest, he wouldn't let Gillian see him staring blankly.He lay naked on the bed. The bed was so warm that he didn't even bother to move under the soft silk quilt.

He heard the vibrations as the pilot started the engine.Of course, Grayson himself could fly...he still remembered how to deal with such a ship.But Cerberus now needs him to play a different role.His cover identity is Cawdor.A senior executive at Heathrop Aerospace, a mid-sized spacecraft maker headquartered in Elitham.This identity allows him to use his private spaceship to fly around in the space of the Milky Way without causing many unnecessary ideas, and it can provide a reasonable explanation for his donation of a large sum of money to the board of directors of Grism College. It was only then that Gillian was allowed to accept the sublimation plan.

Long gone are the days of pretending to be the pilot of a private spaceship and piloting politicians coming and going; now he's the one enjoying the luxury of a suite and accepting the services of a private pilot.Phantom people are always special to those they like. He'd bet Meneo thought the same thing before he got killed. Grayson sat up on the bed, thinking back to Pell's latest visit.Maybe his old friend told the Phantom Man about his smoking red sand.If the organization felt his addiction posed a threat to the mission, Cerberus would not sit idly by. Could Erin be just a flight attendant?There are tens of thousands of ordinary employees serving Calder and Heathrop, and they will never suspect that Heathrop is actually a company controlled by an underground paramilitary organization.Few people in the company—and, for that matter, almost no one else—know that Cerberus exists.But in the positions and employee lists at all levels, in various positions in the company hierarchy, there are Phantom Man agents—maybe Irene is one of them, maybe she is waiting outside, ready to stick the ice pick into his neck, just Like what he did to Keo.

He rolled on the bed, put on the fleece robe hanging on the wall, and pressed the call button.After a while there was a knock on the door.Grayson hesitated, then waved his hand in front of the control panel.The door slid open, and he resisted the idea of ​​running back to bed. Erin stood right at the door, all armed with just her never-ending sweet smile and confident demeanor. "What do you need, Mr. Grayson?" "My clothes...can you wash and iron them?" "Of course, sir." She walked into the room, put away the clothes he threw, and put them away calmly and skillfully.There's a certain confidence about her, a signature professionalism of special military training...or maybe it's just part of her job.

He wanted to watch her without her noticing, hoping to catch her casually sneaking a glance at him.If she was working for Cerberus, she must have been instructed to keep an eye out for passengers. Irene stood up and turned to face him, the well-trained grin from the pile of clothes under her arm faded, and Grayson realized he was still staring at her. He shook his head, pushing these dark thoughts out of his mind. "Sorry, I was thinking of something else." Her smile came back, though her eyes looked strained. "Anything else, Mr. Grayson?" He detected the slightest tremor hidden in her voice.Either she's just a little freaked out flight attendant, or she's a really, really good pretend flight attendant.Another thought quickly superseded this one: red sand makes you paranoid.

"Thanks, Erin, that'll do the trick." He stepped aside to let her pass, and she was visibly relieved too.But she stood in a safe place outside the door, hesitated again, and turned back. "You... do you want me to wake you up an hour before landing?" "That's it!" he said roughly, slamming the door so she couldn't see the embarrassing blush creeping from his neck to his face. Calm down, he cursed himself, took off his nightgown, and lay down on the bed.Stop thinking about it.This task is too big to mess up. The sound of the engine has changed.As if there was some pressure on the ceiling, pushing him down on the soft mattress, he felt a little tight in his chest.The spaceship is rushing straight to the sky, overcoming gravity and the atmosphere, and going straight to the stars.The room felt hot just now, but now it suddenly cooled down.He shivered a little and crawled under the quilt.

The artificial mass-effect field created within the ship's hull dampened the vibration and acceleration of the climb, but his pilot instincts still felt the motion.This feeling is familiar and reassuring.After a few minutes he fell asleep. "We have a new mission for you," said the Phantom Man.Grayson realized he was dreaming again. The two of them in Grayson's apartment, just the two of them... the baby sleeping quietly in the Phantom Man's arms. "You impressed me last time on the Eldfil-Ashland mission. I know it's a difficult one." "It's for a greater purpose."

If he wanted to say something else, he had nothing else to say, and he had believed it with all his heart before.Although the part of his consciousness that knew he was dreaming knew that things were not as simple as they used to be, he still believed it. "I have a special arrangement for you," said the Phantom Man, handing the child to him. "She's a biotic." Grayson held the little girl in his arms.She was warm and soft, a little lighter than he had imagined.When she was hugged, she woke up with a start, opened her eyes, and started crying.Grayson hissed softly, rocking her in his arms.Her eyelids closed again, she blew a little bubble, and fell asleep again.

Given her age, Grayson had no doubts that she had been exposed to element zero radiation. "From now on you will work for Calder Heathrop as a cover," the phantom man told him, "now a salesman, but will climb to a higher position in the next few years. We I want you to raise this little girl alone." "Who is my partner?" "No partner. Your wife died giving birth to her. Then you didn't remarry." Grayson wondered what happened to the little girl's biological father and mother, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask. "Do you know how important this task is?" asked the Phantom Man, "Can you see what biological powers really mean to humans?" The young man nodded.He believed in what the Phantom Man did.He believes in Cerberus. "It took us a lot of work to find this little girl. She's special. We entrusted her to you. It's a trust in you. You treat her like your own." "I will," he promised. When he swore the oath, it never occurred to him what the result would mean to him. If he knew the real price in the end, he might not agree so soon... although the final result would still be the same. The baby breathed softly, and Grayson looked at her wrinkled little face, fascinated. "You are not alone in this task," the Phantom Man reassured him. "We have top experts in this field. They will ensure that she is well trained." Grayson stared blankly at the little girl, who had fallen asleep from restlessness.She clenched her hands into fists and kept drawing circles. The Phantom Man turned and left. "Does she have a name?" Grayson asked without looking up. "A father has the right to name his daughter," said the Phantom Man, closing the door behind him. Grayson woke up, as usual, with the sound of the door closing in his dream still ringing in his ears. "Turn on the lights," he called, and the bedside lamp cast a dim glow, throwing shadows into the room.Only an hour later, they still had seven hours to go to the college. He climbed out of bed, put on his nightgown, and picked up the briefcase.He put the briefcase on the small table in the corner, then sat in the easy chair and pressed the unlock code.The box immediately popped open softly, making the characteristic hissing sound when the hydraulic column is depressurized. Inside the box were several fake documents—mainly contracts and sales reports—as a cover for his identity as an officer at Cowd Heathrop.He took the papers out, threw them on the floor, and raised the mezzanine of the box to take what was underneath.Ignoring the little vial that Pell gave him—until he saw the Gillian thing—he reached for a small bag of red sand in cellophane. Grayson had always wondered how much the Phantom Man knew about the little girl handed over to him that night.Does he know her mental state?Did he know that the Alliance would one day launch a project similar to Project Ascension?He gave the little girl to Grayson, knowing that one day he would be ordered to give up the little girl altogether? He opened the pouch and poured out the fine powder in a small heap.Enough for him to have a good time, no more.Moreover, he still has enough time to calm down before reaching Grism College. It's easy at first.Gillian looked like any other normal little girl.Experts from Cerberus visit her every few months: blood samples taken, alpha readings taken; health checks; conditioning and reflexes tested.According to all the doctors, Gillian should be a happy and healthy child. The syndrome in her manifested between the ages of three and four.Experts told him she had schizotypal disorder of unknown cause, which is easy to diagnose but not easy to treat.It's not that they didn't try, but neither high-dose drug blockers nor behavioral therapy had any effect on her.With each passing year, she became more withdrawn and even autistic.She locked herself in the depths of her own consciousness. The emotional gap between Grayson and the little girl was growing, and when Cerberus decided to send the little girl to the Ascension Project, it was supposed to make Grayson feel better.Unfortunately not. Apart from his loyalty to Cerberus and his love for his daughter, Grayson has no other emotional support.Neither of these two people could do without the other, and after Gillian was in his hands, he never accepted other tasks that needed to be performed, so that he could concentrate on caring for his daughter.Caring for this helpless little girl filled the void in his life.She grew up—he raised her from a baby to a bright, beautiful, troubled little girl—and she became the center of his world... just as the Phantom Man wanted it to be. Then, just two years ago, they ordered him to send the little girl away. He sealed the plastic bag and hid the red sand in the secure interlayer at the bottom of the briefcase.He got up and went to the bathroom, took the Wynn blade from the razor, and used the blade to divide the little mound of red sand into two long thin strands. The phantom man hopes that Gillian will join the sublimation plan, so that Cerberus can use the top strength of the alliance for its research.And whatever the Phantom Man wants, he can succeed. Grayson knew he had no choice in the matter, but letting the little girl go was still a difficult decision.For the past ten years, she has become an inseparable part of his life.He missed seeing her in the morning and feeding her at night.He misses the moments when she broke the invisible wall between him and the outside world, although such moments rarely occur, he misses the innocent love and emotion she showed.But, like all parents, he must put his child's well-being above his own. This project has been a boon for Jillian.The scientists of the college are constantly breaking through the frontiers of biological abilities research.The progress they made was far beyond Cerberus' power alone, and it's the only place Gillian was able to successfully implant the revolutionary amplifier. Sending his daughter away was also necessary for a greater cause.This is the best way for the Cerberus to study the absolute limits of human biological powers, and this is the big killer they will need one day for the final struggle that will elevate Earth and humanity above other aliens position.Gillian has her own place in the Phantom Man's plans, just like Grayson.One day, he hopes, people will see his daughter as a human hero. Grayson understood all of this.He accepts it, like he accepts the fact that he's just a go-between, an agent for Cerberus researchers to reach Gillian when needed.Unfortunately, accepting this fact didn't make him feel any better. If possible, he could have visited Gillian at the Academy every week.But he knew that Gillian would have a hard time if he went too often; she needed stability in her life—she wasn't good at dealing with distractions and unexpected surprises.So he hid away, trying not to think about her.It made the loneliness more bearable, turning the constant pain into a dull ache that lingered in the background of his thoughts. Sometimes, however, he couldn't help missing her—like now.He knew that his visit to her would only make the pain worse as he turned away.At such times, he was powerless to relieve the pain.At least he couldn't relieve the pain without the help of medication. He leaned forward and pressed his left nostril to inhale the first row of red sand, then he pressed his right nostril to inhale the second row of red sand.The red sand burned in his nostrils, and tears flowed from the irritation.He sat up straight, blinking away tears.He gripped the arm of the chair, jaws clenched, and gripped the chair so hard his knuckles turned white.He felt his heart beat slowly and heavily: Tom... Tom... Tom.He only had to wait three heartbeats before the euphoria overwhelmed him. For the next few minutes, he rides the wind and waves, eyes closed, shaking his head and tail.Occasionally, a soft growl would come from the back of his throat, inarticulate moans of pure pleasure. The initial shock was starting to wear off, but he struggled against the urge to do it again.He felt unhappiness now: fear, delusion, loneliness—lurking in the dark corners of his consciousness, still there, but temporarily suppressed by the warm current of the narcotic.He opened his eyes and found that everything in the room had a rose hue.This is one of the side effects of red sand...but not the worst. He stammered some meaningless syllables and leaned back in the chair, which was propped up on his hind legs.He looked around the room, looking for a suitable target, and finally noticed the papers he'd strewed on the floor. Careful not to overturn the chair, he stretched out his left hand and twirled his fingers.The paper rustled as if trembling in the wind.He struggled to concentrate—no easy feat amidst a red cloud.A second later he punched the air with his hand, and the paper spun from the floor and flew across the room. He kept waving his arms to keep the paper from falling.His drug-induced biotic powers made papers fly like leaves in a storm. When Erin opened the door seven hours later, he showed his calm image again.He had slept for several hours, showered, shaved, and tidied up the room, carefully leaving no evidence of anything connected to the red sand. "We have an hour to land, Mr. Grayson," she reminded, handing him the washed and pressed clothes. He nodded and smiled at her as he took the clothes, and closed the door.He checked one last time in the privacy of his room to assure that nothing had been left that might incriminate him. That's the difference between a junkie and a drug addict, he reminded himself, before putting on his clothes.His hands no longer trembled as he buttoned his shirt.Addicts and addicts both need to fix things up, but addicts will at least try to hide what they've done.