Targeted Interference

Prologue - 2172

Jasmine stopped on the corner and looked around the deserted street. The sun would be up soon, and she needed to find a place to crash. She'd been up for three days, riding the high from the last of her red sand. And it was the last. She'd promised herself that. Jasmine rarely made promises but when she did, she kept them. She was definitely, definitely, done with all the crap she'd been doing to get more.

She pulled her shaking hands from the pockets of her beat up leather jacket and shook a cigarette out of the pack. Jasmine looked around her again as she lit the cigarette and leaned against the brick wall behind her. A light came on in a window across the street; the sign above the door blinked on, and Jasmine saw the Systems Alliance insignia pop up on the screen. The insignia faded away to be replaced with the words 'Systems Alliance—Enlist Today!'

Three hots and a cot, right? Shit, I can get the same thing in jail with less bullshit in the process.

Jasmine took a deep drag off of her cigarette, squinting her hazel eyes against the glow. She exhaled as she watched more lights come on in the Alliance building and caught sight of three men in uniform milling about the office. One of them stopped in the window and looked right at her. She didn't figure he could see her very well, but she got a good look at him. She guessed him to be in his early forties judging by the amount of gray mixed in with the brown. She couldn't see the finer lines around his eyes from across the street, but she could tell the sun had weathered his skin over the years. He stood like all Alliance stood.

Like they have a stick up their ass. What is he trying out for the Alliance's poster boy? Why is he watching me? That's creepy.

Movement from above caught Jasmine's attention and she turned her head to see a skycar coming in from the north. She knew that soon, the area would be filled with skycars as people made their way to sit in their tiny cubicles and feed their souls to the machine. She pushed away from the wall, the bricks tugging at a few strands from her long ponytail as she went, making her wince. She drug the heels of her boots across the pavement as she willed her tired legs onward, dismissing the skycar and the Alliance recruiting office from her mind. Jasmine focused her attention on finding a place to crash.

That warehouse isn't far, just a few blocks. Better than nothing. Won't be anyone around and it'll be quiet. I'll be out of sight.

"Hey baby, you need a ride somewhere?"

Jasmine's head jerked at the voice. She cursed herself for letting someone sneak up on her. The light blue skycar had dropped low enough to pull up beside her as she walked and a hooded man leaned out of the passenger window, his features indistinct in the first rays of sunrise.

"No, I'm good. Thanks," Jasmine said.

"You sure? We can take you wherever you wanna go, honey." He turned his head to look at the driver briefly. "Or you could just ride with us. Let us see what you got going on under that jacket."

Real slick, moron. I bet you think that hood makes you look mysterious.

"I said I'm good, now fuck off," Jasmine said.

Jasmine picked up the pace hoping that the assholes in the skycar would get the point and leave her alone. Of course, she thought when she heard the car stop and the doors open. She didn't run. Never run, they like the chase too much. Instead she braced herself for what she knew was coming. She could hear the rushed footsteps pounding the pavement behind her and tried to estimate how many of them there were. Two… three? I can do two or three. A hand grabbed her shoulder and tried to pull her back. Jasmine spun around and rammed her lit cigarette into Mr. Mysterious' face. He howled in pain and shock, the sound bringing his fellow would-be attackers up short. Jasmine followed up by ramming her fist into his nose.

"Bitch!" he yelled.

The two others took that as their cue and moved in, trying to flank her. One of them looked about Jasmine's age, seventeen. His acne scarred face stood out against his close cropped, blond hair. She guessed the other as being in his mid-twenties. It was hard to tell with his New York Yankees baseball cap casting shadows over his face in the dim light. Jasmine pulled her knife out of her pocket and flipped it open with practiced ease. She held it in front of her for them to see, hoping it would make them change their minds. She'd never actually used it on anyone before, but she damn sure would if they forced her hand.

"Hey, what's going on over there?" The masculine voice carried to Jasmine's ears from down the street but she didn't dare turn her head to see where it came from.

"Grab the whore and get her in the car!" The Yankee moved in on her right and tried to make a grab for her arm, but she slashed the knife through the air making him think twice.

Whore?! I am not a fucking whore!

Mr. Mysterious recovered from the shock of his broken nose enough to charge at Jasmine. She held the knife out in front of her but he kept moving. She stumbled as she retreated, feeling like a shuttle facing down a frigate. She watched in horror as he bent his knees and propelled forward, his feet leaving the concrete as he threw himself at her. Jasmine jumped to the side and he landed face first, cracking his forehead on the sidewalk. The Yankee grabbed her arms and pulled her backwards toward the car. She kicked and screamed and when that didn't work she dug the heels of her combat boots into the sidewalk.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Jasmine remembered she still had the knife and swung her arm down, embedding it in the man's thigh before ripping it out again. "Let me go you son-of-a-bitch!"

He tightened his grip on Jasmine's arm as he screamed and called her every name he could think of. Under different circumstances, Jasmine would have criticized him for his lack of creativity. The man slammed his head into the back of hers in retaliation, she saw stars and her body started to go slack.

"Let the girl go and turn around slowly." The world spun in Jasmine's head, making it sound like the voice came from all around her.

"Shit, he's got a gun, Jake. Let her go," Blondie said.

He threw Jasmine to the ground. "Yeah, well so do I."

Jasmine heard the sound of a gun being fired as she pushed herself up on scraped palms. Shoving loose locks of her long, black hair out of her face, she looked up to see The Yankee drop to the ground. He landed on his chest a few feet away, his head turned to the side. His eyes stared, opened wide in shock. Jasmine didn't realize he was dead until she saw the blood start to trickle out of the little hole in his forehead. His baseball cap lay on the ground between the two of them. With it gone, she could see his face more clearly and thought him closer to thirty.

She looked up to see the man from the Alliance recruitment office window holding Blondie at gunpoint. Jasmine could see a dark stain spreading down the front of the kid's pants. Mr. Mysterious started to move and the man in the uniform pointed the gun at him instead. Jasmine heard police sirens wailing in the distance.

"Stay down, or I will shoot," the Alliance poster boy said.

Oh shit. He's not going to shoot me is he? I was just defending myself. He saw that right? I'm the victim here.

Impressed Mr. Mysterious was actually smart enough to listen to the order, she started to push herself up to sit on the sidewalk. She watched for any sign of alarm from the man with his finger on the trigger as she moved. She glanced at her knife. If she had to, if she really had to, she thought she could get to it before he shot her. She turned her eyes back to Poster Boy, but he had his attention on Blondie. He ordered Blondie to lie on the ground and put his hands behind his head.

"You alright ma'am?" Poster Boy asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just want to go," Jasmine said.

"I understand, ma'am, and I'm sorry but I can't let you leave. The police are going to want to speak with you," he said.

"Damn it," Jasmine whispered.

The sun's rays broke over the horizon, giving light to the gruesome scene around her. Blood smeared the tawny skin of her palms, and she thought she now had it on her face. Her dark blue jeans had new holes in both knees and the soles of her already worn through boots flapped loose. At least her jacket didn't look any worse. Her stomach twisted when she realized that the cuts on her palms barely bled. Most of the blood had come from Mr. Mysterious and The Yankee. She saw the red puddle growing around the dead man inching its way toward her.

Jasmine pushed herself up to her feet and held her palms out to the man with the gun. "I just don't want any more of his blood on me."

"Christ. How old are you?" he asked.

"Seventeen, almost eighteen," Jasmine said.

The police skycars arrived and officers spilled out over the scene. Jasmine stood off to the side, wishing she could make herself as invisible as she felt most days. The cops slapped handcuffs on Blondie and Mr. Mysterious, pulling them to their feet by their wrists. Another officer bent down to check for The Yankee's pulse and shook his head when he found none.

An ambulance arrived and the EMTs checked the body a second time, recording something on a datapad. Officers moved about taking pictures of the scene and setting out little yellow numbered triangles. When the EMTs finished, a female officer pointed them in Jasmine's direction. They followed her over and waited a few feet away while the female officer took pictures of Jasmine's injuries. The nametag on her uniform said Johnson. She swabbed the blood on Jasmine's palms and the back of her jeans, sliding each swab into a little plastic vial and labeling it with something Jasmine couldn't read. She put the vials into a bag and marked it before holding Jasmine's hands over an envelope and raking a plastic spatula under her nails. She closed the envelope and put that into its own bag.

"Were you sexually assaulted, ma'am?" She didn't even make eye contact with Jasmine as she asked, she just kept her eyes on her datapad.

"What? No. They just grabbed me, tried to get me into their car." Jasmine ran her eyes over the scene once more.

I just want to go to sleep and forget this ever happened.

"Alright ma'am. One of the other officers will come by to take your statement." She nodded to the EMTs as she returned to her skycar.

Crap, how long is this going to take?

Jasmine watched through heavy lids as the EMTs cleaned and bandage her hands. She hissed through clenched teeth as they prodded the tender lump on her head. They were gentle and spoke softly to her as the worked, explaining what they were doing at each step. They shined a light in her eyes and asked her to follow along with her eyes as one of them moved a finger back and forth in front of her face. They told her that they didn't believe her skull had been fractured, and she wasn't showing signs of a concussion but that they could take her to the hospital if she wanted to be safe.

She shook her head. "I'm fine, I just want to go."

They sent information on what she should be alert for, and when she should seek medical attention to her omni-tool before leaving her alone. She shuffled around nervously when the Alliance Poster Boy stepped away from one of the cops and walked over to her.

"They said I can take you inside until they're ready to talk to you. Come on, we'll get you cleaned up and get you some coffee or something," he said.

"What about my knife?" Jasmine asked.

"They'll probably take it in as evidence, I'm sorry," he said.

"Damn it." Jasmine rubbed the arm of her jacket across her forehead. "Alright."

Jasmine followed him, keeping her head low to avoid the sun. The other two men she'd seen earlier stood staring out the window at the commotion. The older of the two, with graying hair and a pinched expression, held the door open for them and saluted.

"I'm Service Chief Geoffrey Williams. What's your name, kid?" Geoffrey asked.

"Jasmine," she said.

"Nice name. Pretty. Jasmine what?" Geoffrey asked.

"Shepard," Jasmine said.

Geoffrey nodded and turned to address the two men. "Rutherford, show Ms. Shepard here where the restroom is so she can wash up. Sanders, get Ms. Shepard a cup of coffee."

The two men saluted before going about following their orders.

"Right this way, ma'am." Rutherford, the same man who held the door open now gestured towards the back of the office.

Jasmine followed him down a hall and stepped inside the small bathroom. She locked the door behind her and used a damp paper towel to wash the blood from her face. She carefully felt the back of her head and heaved a sigh of relief when she found nothing more than a knot.

Maybe the police will leave me alone after they take a statement. It was self-defense; Poster Boy will tell them what he saw. Shit, my cigarettes.

Jasmine spotted a lip above the door frame and dug her cigarettes out of her pocket. She had to reach on her tip-toes to hide the pack and lighter, thinking she'd come back for them later. Jasmine opened the bathroom door and paused when she realized Rutherford had waited just outside. She gave the severe looking man a wary look. He gestured back down the hall and Jasmine started walking. She glanced back to see him following her, the hairs rising on the back of her neck. She reached the main waiting area and saw Geoffrey sitting at a desk near the front door. A cup of steaming coffee sat in front of two other chairs on the other side. He waved her over and she hesitated until she remembered the man behind her. Jasmine squared her shoulders and crossed the floor to stand in front of Geoffrey's desk.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"What?" Jasmine responded.

"Your head. Is it bleeding?" Geoffrey asked.

"Oh, no. There's just a knot," she said.

He nodded his head at the empty chairs. "Have some coffee while you wait."

Jasmine sat and stared at the cup. With the adrenaline wearing off, she felt even more sluggish than before. She balanced the cup with her fingertips, keeping the hot ceramic off her bandaged palms and took a sip. A bell went off over the door as an officer walked inside. He looked around until he spotted Jasmine and made a beeline for her. Jasmine sat up straight and tried not to cower. I didn't do anything wrong. He's got no reason to take me in. None. Another cop entered and asked to speak to Geoffrey somewhere else, so he left the desk and took the officer to a side room.

"I'm Officer Daryl Henry. I just need to ask you a few questions about what happened this morning. Get your side of the story. Do you mind if I sit with you?" Daryl pointed at the chair next to Jasmine.

She nodded her head. He pulled the chair out and turned it to face her before sitting down. Jasmine put the mug back on the desk and picked at the bandages with her hands in her lap. Maybe they won't ask about the burn. Last thing I need right now is another ticket. She showed him her ID when he asked and watched as he scanned it with his omni-tool. She chewed at her lip when her mugshots popped up on his screen.

He confirmed that she didn't know the men prior to the altercation and asked which direction they came from. He didn't believe her when she said that she broke Mr. Mysterious' nose, asking her if it hadn't been Service Chief Williams who'd done it instead. Jasmine rolled her eyes and said she was sure. She told him everything she could remember about what the men said and did, as well as how she responded skipping over the cigarette burn.

Jasmine scratched her cheek when he asked about the burn. He kept his eyes steady on her, waiting out her silence. She let out a sigh and admitted that she had shoved her lit cigarette in his face when he grabbed her. The officer looked at her then back at her rap sheet and grunted.

I guess he's got bigger things to worry about than slapping my wrist for smoking. I'll be eighteen in two months anyway.

She started to get uneasy when he asked her about the knife. I'm not in trouble for that, right? It's legal, I checked! She told him it belonged to her father, the only thing she had left from him. Besides his last name and the memory of him walking out on mom. Mom killed herself a month later, and he was nowhere to be found until his name showed up in the obituaries a year later. The officer made a note and moved on, asking her where she had come from and where she was going. Jasmine didn't answer right away and the officer looked up from his datapad.

"I was just out." Jasmine shrugged.

"Just out?" Daryl repeated.

"Yeah," Jasmine nodded, "just out."

He stared at her in silence but she didn't offer him any further explanation.

"Ms. Shepard, it says here that you're emancipated. Is there anyone you want us to call? Someone who can come get you?" Daryl asked.

"There isn't anyone to call. I'll be alright," Jasmine said.

"I see. I'm sorry but we're going to have to take your dad's knife into evidence. It will be released to you once the case is closed. I'll need a way to contact you in case I have any further questions," Daryl said.

Jasmine gave him her extranet address, and he frowned.

"It's all I got," she said.

Geoffrey and the other cop returned from the other room to stand in the middle of the office. Daryl excused himself and went to talk to his partner while Geoffrey took a seat behind his desk. Jasmine stayed put, unsure whether she could leave yet or not.

"Probably just a trick gone bad, johns got a little rough with her and she fought back." Daryl spoke in hushed tones to his partner but Jasmine heard it anyway.

"I'm not a whore." Jasmine stared daggers at the cop.

Daryl turned towards her and raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I said I'm not a goddamn whore. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was just walking down the street, and those creeps attacked me," Jasmine said.

"Ma'am, it's clear that you're strung out. You're not the first junkie I've seen turn to prostitution to get their fix. We're not here to arrest you, so I suggest you settle down before you give us a reason to." The second officer smirked as he shook his head at Jasmine.

Jasmine's eyes bulged, she opened her mouth ready to tear him a new one when Geoffrey shoved his chair away from the desk and cleared his throat. She watched as he moved around the desk and stood in front of her, making himself a wall between Jasmine and the officers.

"Excuse me officers, but I believe you have both of our statements. I'm sure that you can contact either of us with any further questions. You've made it clear that you do not intend to arrest Ms. Shepard this morning, so I think I can take it from here. I'll make sure Ms. Shepard is returned home safely," Geoffrey said.

"Listen, Mr. Williams –," Daryl said.

"Service Chief Williams," Geoffrey corrected.

"Service Chief Williams. With all due respect, sir, we've seen this kind of thing hundreds of times. The kid doesn't have a home, she's strung out on drugs—probably red sand and—," Daryl said.

"Officers, with all due respect your job is done here. Please don't make me place a call to Lieutenant Johnson. She really hates being disturbed this early in the morning," Geoffrey said.

The smirk slowly dissolved off of the second officer's face as Daryl tucked his datapad away. "Of course. Thank you for your time, sir."

Geoffrey escorted the two men to the door and then turned to watch them out of the window as they returned to their patrol car and flew away. Other police skycars remained down the block as they finished with the scene. Jasmine stood up on shaky legs, drawing the service chief's attention back to her.

"Thanks," she said. "I should go."

"Wait, Ms. Shepard. Let me give you a ride," Geoffrey said.

"No, really, it's alright. I'm not going far," Jasmine said.

"You look like you're about to pass out where you stand. Please, let me take you wherever you're going," Geoffrey said.

Jasmine rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms and nodded her head. "Can I use the bathroom again first?"

"Of course. I'll meet you outside," he said.

Jasmine retrieved her cigarettes and left the Alliance office. A skycar waited for her just outside, the door already lifted open. Geoffrey waited for her to shut the door and buckle her seatbelt before he asked her where she wanted to go. She pointed in the direction of the warehouse and he took off.

"You can just let me out here." About a block from the warehouse, Jasmine pointed down at the street.

"Are you sure?" He looked around the area, "I know it really isn't my business but this is not a good neighborhood."

No place I'm at is ever a good neighborhood. People like Officer Dickhead work real hard to keep people like me out of good neighborhoods.

"I – I don't have anywhere else to go. There's a place not far from here where I can get some sleep. I'll be alright," she said.

Shit, why am I telling him this? Why'd I even let him drive me here? Come on dude, just put the car down and let me out.

The skycar hovered over the street as Geoffrey looked out the window. "You know … we've got a guest room, and my wife could actually really use someone to help her out around the house."

Right. What's the catch?

"Why would you do that? You don't know me. What if everything those cops said was right?" Jasmine raised her eyebrow.

Geoffrey slowly turned the skycar around. Jasmine didn't tell him to stop; instead she turned in her seat to stare at him.

What do you want? If you're thinking you can get some easy action for saving me you're sorely mistaken.

"I think they got it wrong. I think they got you wrong." He glanced at her. "I think that you've had it rough and maybe you need to get clean but if you're willing to accept the help, we can get you there. My wife is a drug rehabilitation counselor."

Ah, that's what this is. Service Chief Williams has a hero complex. You think you're going to save me Chief? Right. Like I haven't heard that before. I don't need you to save me. I'll save my own damn self.

"If that's why you're doing this then you don't need to worry about it. I'm done with red sand. I'm done with all of it. I've already made up my mind and trust me, once my mind is made up, it doesn't change easily," she said.

"That's good then, you're headed in the right direction. It isn't easy. It'll be a rough ride, and you'll need someone to help get you through it. That's not why I'm doing this, though," he said.

"Then why?" Jasmine watched him with narrowed eyes.

Geoffrey took his time answering, his eyes on the traffic ahead. "You didn't run. You stood your ground, and you fought. I admire that."

"If I'd run, they'd only chase me. I know assholes like that. The chase is half the fun for them," she said.

"That's a shame," he said.

"What?" she asked.

"That you know assholes like that. So, should I turn the car back around, or will you accept the help I'm offering?" Geoffrey glanced at her again.

Would it really be so bad? A hot shower. A dry bed. Maybe even some real food? It's not like I have to stay. It's not like he's going to keep me around for more than a day or two anyway. If he gets handsy I can always walk. Then again, he does carry a gun and it sure as hell looked like he has no trouble hitting his target. Why is he even doing this? Damn, I'm tired. What does he really want? Shit I can't even think straight right now. Screw it.

Jasmine turned to look back out of the window and bit her lip. "Yeah. Okay. It's gotta be better than a dirty warehouse floor."

Jasmine spent the next six months living with the Williams family. Her eighteenth birthday came and went, but still they didn't tell her she had to leave. She endured the hell and got clean just like she promised herself she would. The first few days were the worst as she suffered through withdrawal. She spent her days holed up in the guest bedroom tossing and turning on sweat-soaked sheets. She thought it would be less painful to set herself on fire, and she couldn't keep anything down. Not a minute went by that she didn't have to fight against the voice in her head telling her to rob the Williams family blind and score some red sand. Just to make the pain go away.

She made it through, though and she knew that Karin Williams was largely to thank. Jasmine thought that woman truly did have the patience of a saint. She sat at Jasmine's side through the worst of it, and remained steadfast even when Jasmine fought against her. Jasmine couldn't bring herself to call the Williams family her family, even if their children had taken to calling her their new big sister. In fact, Jasmine did her best to keep her distance from the three girls, Jessica, Angela, and Samantha. She didn't want the girls to know about her past, or who she had been, afraid that it would corrupt them.

Jasmine felt good. For the first time in her life, she felt like she belonged somewhere. She felt like they wanted her there. She also knew, though, that it couldn't last forever and she needed to do something. She needed to get her on her own two feet, and a plan to get her life in order.

"Mr. Williams?" Jasmine leaned against the door frame that led to Geoffrey's home office.

"Jasmine, when will you stop calling me that?" Geoffrey asked.

"Sorry, sir. I uh – have you got a minute to talk?" Jasmine asked.

"Sure, come on in. What's on your mind?" He closed the lid on his laptop and spun his chair to face the small couch as she sat down.

"Your work, you do recruitment right?" Jasmine asked.

"Yes, for the time being. Why, what's up?" he asked.

Jasmine squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I want to enlist."