FAYE BEAUMONT'S POV:
I sipped my hot chocolate, completely at ease, as if we were in a Manhattan café instead of a military helicopter thousands of feet in the air. The man opposite me, Captain Marcus Grant, seemed far more tense than I was.
"Captain Grant," I said, setting down my cup. My ice-blue eyes met his. "Now, can you explain why you made such a scene?"
He cleared his throat, his posture straightening involuntarily. "Ma'am, it's because of your 'Prometheus' project. It's had a critical breakthrough."
He handed me an encrypted tablet from his briefcase. It displayed a complex data stream, a report on the stable synthesis of a new carbon nanomaterial.
"According to the last data set you uploaded last night," he explained, "we've confirmed that the energy conductivity of the 'Prometheus' material has surpassed the theoretical limit by 300%. This means it's enough to change the global energy landscape."
I merely glanced at the data. "I know," I said flatly. "I just didn't expect your reaction to be this fast."
I could almost feel his internal grimace. The heads at DARPA must have panicked. A top-level meeting convening overnight, with the primary resolution to secure me at all costs. It was predictable.
"Doctor, the strategic value of your research is immeasurable. From now on, your security level is elevated to the highest priority," he said seriously.
"So this is your 'protection'? Landing a helicopter on my front lawn like a Hollywood blockbuster?" I raised an eyebrow, my tone laced with sarcasm.
He had the grace to look embarrassed. "That was... an accident. Our original plan was to contact you at a more discreet location, but your movements last night were... unexpected." The engagement party. Of course.
"Also," he added, "we intercepted some 'unfriendly' communications. It seems an unknown party has also taken an interest in your research. We had to take the most secure measures."
I was silent for a moment, weighing the situation. That part, at least, was useful information. "Fine. Where are we going now?"
"To a completely secure location. But before that, there's one more thing we need your cooperation on, Doctor." He seemed to find the words difficult.
"What is it?"
"To provide a plausible explanation to the public for last night's events, and to 'lure the snake out of its hole,' the Joint Chiefs have decided... you need to hold a press conference."
I looked at him as if he were an idiot. "A press conference? Captain, are you joking? My research is a state secret."
"Of course, no secrets will be involved," he quickly explained. "It's just a PR show. We'll arrange everything. You just need to show up, say a few vague words, and leave the rest to us."
A PR show. A stage. Just like the one I had walked away from hours ago. But this time, the stakes were different. This was a chessboard, and my family, Julian, and all the whispering gossips were merely pawns. The real players were the ones hiding in the shadows, the "unfriendly" communications. And the Pentagon wanted to use me as bait.
The helicopter landed at a secret military base. Captain Grant led me into a prepared conference room where a PR team was already waiting. They had a demure suit and a condescending speech ready for me.
I ignored them and turned to Grant. "Get me a computer with a connection to the 'Athena' system. Five minutes." Athena was my proprietary, encrypted AI assistant.
He hesitated, but a look from me had him complying. I sat down, my fingers flying across the keyboard. Lines of code flashed on the screen. The Pentagon's plan was clumsy. I would refine it.
Five minutes later, I closed the laptop. "Okay, I'm ready."
The press conference was held at the Pentagon. I walked to the podium in the simple white shirt and black trousers I had changed into, no makeup, Captain Grant at my side.
The flashbulbs were a physical assault. The reporters were sharks that had smelled blood.
The first question was brutal. "Ms. Beaumont, are you being investigated for treason?"
I didn't answer. I just stared at him, my silence a weapon, until his own confidence withered under my gaze.
I stepped to the microphone, and my voice broadcast across the world. "My name is Dr. Faye Beaumont. Regarding last night's events, I can only say it was a necessary procedure. As for anything else, no comment."
Just as the reporters erupted into a frenzy of shouted questions, the large screen behind the podium lit up, on my command.
Words appeared, under the joint seal of the Office of the President of the United States and the Department of Defense: "In recognition of Dr. Faye Beaumont's outstanding contributions to the field of New Material Physics, she is hereby awarded the National Medal of Science. A ceremony will be held at a later date."
The room fell completely silent. I had just turned their bait into my throne.
