by Erin Bowman
But she was still furious with him. And jealous.
Farraday’s offer had been a farce, but Coen’s photo was still something. It was a connection to his old life, a reminder of home. Thea longed for that contact. A mere picture of a familiar face—even a worker from child services—would have helped anchor her. It would have been a reminder of Eutheria, of all the things she’d left behind. Her education and grades, a future where she might be able to track down her mother, or at the very least, learn what had actually happened to her. People don’t just vanish into thin air.
The collar pinched at her neck as the guards yanked her to a halt. She wasn’t at the research lab. Instead, they’d stopped earlier in the hall, just outside a set of locker rooms.
“Both facilities have been emptied,” one of the guards said. “You’ll have five minutes to shower. Remember that you are wearing a cap that can deliver an electric shock at any moment. If we believe you may be trying to escape, we won’t hesitate to use it, and consequences may be dire if you’re standing in water.”
The metal leads clicked, detaching from Thea’s collar and then used to prod her in the back. She staggered into the locker room, catching a final glimpse of Coen disappearing into the male facilities in a similar fashion.
She cased the room with excitement that quickly fizzled. It was empty, as the guard had promised, but there were no windows. No rear exits. No way out but the way she’d just entered.
“Your five minutes starts now!” the guard called from the hallway.
Not sure when her next chance would be to bathe, Thea stripped down and darted into the shower. A dispenser on the wall provided unscented soap, and she scrubbed herself clean as fast as possible. The water was divine. Her skin felt new. She didn’t bother with her hair—there was a sink in her cell where she could see to it later, and besides, she was wearing the hot cap. Still, she could have stayed in the shower for hours.
“Last minute!” came a warning from the hall.
Thea turned off the shower and scrambled for her clothes. The guards hadn’t even provided a towel, so she used her shirt to dry off, then pulled it on and crammed her legs into her leggings. The material clung to her damp skin. Turning to the mirror, she found the surface fogged with condensation, and cleared it with her palm.
A foreign face peered back.
She’d lost weight in the past months. Thea couldn’t remember her last proper meal, and it showed in her cheeks. She frowned, and the strange reflection frowned back.
The guard outside began counting down from twenty.
Thea turned away from the mirror and darted for the hall. As soon as she crossed the threshold, a brief shock came through the hot cap, bringing her to her knees. In that moment of disorientation, the guards secured their leads to her collar.
“Can I . . . ?” a soft voice asked.
“Yeah, she’s secure,” the guard replied.
Thea glanced up to see a young medic, shower caddy in hand and small pack slung over her shoulder. Amber Farraday, the badge pinned to her medical jacket read. Med Intern. She had strawberry hair and a slender neck, and while her pulse wasn’t hot with fear, it beat unevenly. As she edged around the guard and into the locker room, she made eye contact with Thea. Something lurked there. Pity, Thea realized.
The collar lead was shoved, and Thea scramble-crawled forward before finally standing. Coen sent her thoughts about his shower as they were led off, calling it heavenly. She agreed, but she’d already forgotten the kiss of the water. Her thoughts were stuck on Amber. The way the medic had looked at her: like she wasn’t a host to be feared, but a person deserving of help.
Maybe pity wasn’t the worst thing to have seen in her eyes. Thea could work with pity better than she could with contempt. She tried to glance over her shoulder, hoping for one last glimpse of the medic, but the collar kept her from turning her head.
When Nova woke to the sound of Amber entering her room, the fake window beside her bed glowed with dawn’s first light. The medic was in a hazmat suit again, and she smiled from behind the visor. From most people it would be a forced smile. An I’m smiling so you maybe forget how shitty everything is smile. But on Amber, it looked sincere. It was more of an I’m happy to see you again and I promise we’ll get through this smile.
“You don’t have to wear that thing,” Nova said, nodding at the suit. “I would be showing symptoms by now if I was a danger. I remembered that the nosebleed and spasms started within five minutes of infection. The hemorrhaged eyes, soon after.”
“My father said almost the exact same thing this morning. I pressed him for more info as soon as you woke up yesterday.”
“And he knows about the answers . . . how?”
“He has some salvaged footage from that Black Quarry operation you mentioned.”
Nova frowned, skeptical. Dr. Farraday had come to visit her during the night. She’d recognized him as Amber’s father—they had the same eyes—but his touch has been cold and impersonal, and he barked out questions about Black Quarry while checking her vitals. What is Thea capable of now? Have you observed the boy’s healing capabilities? How strong are they, truly? What makes them capable hosts when everyone else is driven mad? The questions hadn’t made sense to her, and the doctor had left disgruntled. Nova wondered what he’d seen in the salvaged Black Quarry footage.
“Yesterday, Felix called my friends hosts,” she said. “Hosts to what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did they have nosebleeds when you saw them being relocated? Blood-filled eyes?”
“No,” Amber insisted. “Nothing like that.”
Nova exhaled, relieved. The contagion had been left behind on Achlys.
“As for this suit,” Amber said, glancing down at her front, “I’ve been told to use it for another twenty-four hours, just to be safe. Ready to begin physical therapy?” Another smile, this one bright and encouraging. Nova hated how upbeat it was. “We’ll start with the regen bed. It’s most effective for healing wounds and slowing bleeding, but it can boost the growth of muscle cells, too. Only a small percentage, sadly. From there, you’ll have to do the rest.”
“And you’re my trainer?”
The other girl’s brows slid into a V. “You want someone else?”
“No, you’re fine.”
“So glad I meet your standards.”
“That’s not what I—I didn’t—” Nova sighed. “Sorry. I just didn’t realize you doubled as a physical therapist, that’s all.”
“I don’t. Not really. But everyone else is busy, and you and I are at the bottom of the ladder in terms of priorities here. It’s me or no one. Now let’s get you out of bed.”
Amber pulled one of Nova’s arms behind her neck and then helped her to her feet. Nova wanted to ask why everyone else was busy, who was in charge, where she was, but as soon as Amber helped her from the bed, her legs burned with exhaustion. It took all her focus to not collapse right there, even with her arm slung behind the medic’s neck.
“This sucks,” Nova grunted as they entered the hall.
“It will get better.”
She didn’t even need to look to know Amber was giving her that supportive smile again. Support and pity mixed together. “Yeah, but right now it sucks and I just want to be able to say that without being coddled or encouraged or pitied. It sucks, it sucks, it fucking sucks.”
“It’s a shit situation,” Amber agreed. “One hundred percent.”
It was said so sincerely that Nova felt a stab of guilt. “It could be worse,” she admitted.
“Of course it could. But here I am, already getting you to think positively.”
Nova cocked her head toward Amber. “By tricking me.”
Smile widening, the medic winked.
Nova felt an old spark of challenge, a reminder of a game she played at Northwood Point with Dylan. Smiling wouldn’t be the prize anymore. Amber handed them out too easily. No, this time it would be winks.
One
wink, Nova thought, starting the day’s tally.
Coen tested the restraints that held him to his chair. They were tight. Not so tight that he couldn’t break them, but with the hot cap on his head, he wouldn’t push things.
He was back in the research lab, Thea secured to a chair beside him. A regenerative bed and a tray of medical tools sat nearby. Dr. Farraday hadn’t explained what was about to happen, but Coen had a good guess. Their healing capabilities were about to be tested.
It wasn’t humane. They should be sedated first, at the very least, but what good were superhuman soldiers if they couldn’t heal quickly and under duress?
The testing started simply enough. Injuries no bigger than paper cuts, applied to the meaty part of his arm. Then the knives were drawn deeper and farther. The pain began to blossom and spread. Coen briefly saw stars before his body took over, clotting blood, rejoining skin and tissue. Beside him, Thea let out a gasp.
Tell me about your mom, he said, gritting through pain, desperate for a distraction.
And she did.
Everything she remembered about the woman and their on-the-move life together. The way she’d disappeared one day as Thea waited at the bus stop. How she was the most loving, caring, protective mother until she vanished, and how records of her didn’t exist. Which was why Thea thought she was still out there somewhere. Her mother was hiding, or someone was hiding her, and Thea was determined to get answers.
She spoke through the worst of the knives and into a soldering gun, which tested their ability to recover from burns. The mental conversation didn’t mask the pain, but it kept Coen from focusing on it. When it was over, he was breathless and sweaty, his body beat. He felt as though he’d run a marathon, but when he dared a glance at his arm, it was unmarred. No scars. No evidence that he’d just been tortured.
“Excellent,” a voice said, cutting through the lab’s intercoms. Burke. Coen glanced at the mirrored wall. The lieutenant must have watched everything from behind the glass. “Now get them back in the ring. I want to see how they fight after that level of injury.”
Without so much as a minute to recover or a drink to quench their thirst, Coen and Thea were shoved into the ring and again supplied with shock rods.
I can’t, Thea said, clutching her torso. I’m exhausted.
Coen had a stitch in his side as well, but was trying to ignore it. Even during the worst of the fighting on Achlys, he’d never felt this drained. Then again, he’d been able to fight back on Achlys and had only taken a few injuries along the way. But being strapped down, being forced to weather wound after trauma after burn—that was different.
Come on. I can teach you, he said, tossing the shock rod aside. Start with fists only.
She stared at him, puzzled.
Go on, toss the rod.
She dropped it by her feet.
Get in a ready stance. Always protect your head from your opponent. Keep your weight light and never planted through one foot. See how I’ve got my left shoulder angled at you and the rest held back?
Cautiously, she mirrored his stance.
Good. Now front hand up. Shield your face. Always protect.
She moved her left hand up a little, letting it hover near her chin.
Perfect. Now if I come in like this— He threw a light punch and she instinctively danced out of reach. Right. You can back step. Or you can duck or block. Go on, throw one at me. She gave him a skeptical look. Go ahead.
As her fist hurtled toward his face, Coen brought his forearm up while circling it away from his body, blocking and deflecting the blow. Thea’s eyes narrowed, taking it in.
Your turn. Ready?
She nodded. He threw the punch. She blocked.
Good. And if your opponent gets a hold on you . . . He moved in, and she let him put her in a light headlock from behind. You’re small, but you’re bony. That’s an advantage. Use your elbows, and use them mercilessly. Go ahead.
She hesitated, so he tightened the hold around her neck. Her elbow jutted out, slamming into his gut. He coughed, staggering away.
Sorry!
No, that was perfect. Don’t apologize. Let’s go again.
It went on like that, a sparring session that intensified as Thea’s confidence grew. They danced around each other, sweat beading on their limbs, the harsh overhead lights blurring out their spectators. Coen forgot about Farraday and Burke and the soldiers the Radicals wanted to create with Thea and him as their models. He saw only the ring, and Thea’s fists, and it brought him a sense of ease.
He hadn’t felt so relaxed in months. The fighting set him free.
Amber was roughly the same height as Nova, which made helping her to the regenerative bed relatively easy. It was only once Nova was lying in the chamber that Amber realized she should have brought a wheelchair for the other girl. Next time, she told herself.
She lowered the lid of the bed and ran a basic diagnostic. The system told her what she’d already concluded based on her initial assessment and her father’s notes from his night visit. Despite a large amount of muscle loss, Nova Singh was healthy. Even the brain scan looked good—expected activity and no serious trauma. If any memories were still clouded or lost to Nova, they were bound to return in time.
She ran a program to stimulate regrowth of muscle cells, and a half hour later, helped Nova sit.
“Next time, tell me how long I’m gonna be stuck in that thing?”
Amber nodded, embarrassed she hadn’t thought to warn Nova from the beginning. There is so much more to being a doctor than treating ailments, her father was always chastising. Never forget the human element. Amber hadn’t really understood what he meant, but she thought she might now.
“I’ll get a wheelchair and we can head to Therapy,” Amber said.
“No, I want to walk. I have to build up the muscle somehow.”
“Okay.” Amber hesitantly moved to Nova’s side, again guiding the pilot’s arm behind her neck. They left the medbay and moved down the hall at a terribly slow pace, though Nova didn’t seem to lean on Amber quiet as heavily as earlier.
“I actually feel a little stronger,” the pilot admitted. “That’s wild.”
Amber flashed her eyebrows up, as if to say Technology!
When they reached Therapy, Amber helped Nova to a set of waist-high bars in the center of the room, which the pilot would be able to use as handles as she attempted to support her own weight. Amber slowly backed away.
Arms locked and feet planted on the floor, Nova held herself upright. Her limbs trembled. Sweat beaded on her brow.
“Can you take a step?” Amber asked.
“Fuck no,” Nova gasped out.
Amber rushed behind her and grabbed Nova beneath the shoulders just before her arms gave out. She lowered her onto a stool and brought over resistance bands and showed Nova a variety of movements she could repeat to help rebuild muscle in her quads and hamstrings.
“You really don’t remember me?” she asked as Nova extended her right leg in front of her, stretching the band. “We spoke when you were in a coma. I asked you questions and you blinked yes or no. Blinked whole answers in Morse code, even.”
The pilot turned toward Amber, her brow wrinkled. “How did I even end up in a coma?”
“I’m not sure. Something must have gone wrong with the sedation process in the shuttle’s cryo pod.”
“That’s . . . uncommon,” Nova said.
Amber held her gaze. “I know.”
Neither of them said the words, but Amber could tell they both suspected the same thing: something was being kept from them.
“I asked so many questions when I was first tasked with watching you,” Amber went on. “Knowing how someone slipped into a coma gives you a good idea of their odds of coming out. They told me they found you like that. Your two friends came willingly and you were already unresponsive. But none of that seems right, because I saw your friends, and they were being dragged around by force, half sedated. People who want to
willingly participate in something don’t need to be drugged.”
Nova licked her lips, thinking. Amber watched beads of sweat trickle across the pilot’s temple.
“Can I see them—Thea and Coen?”
Amber’s stomach twisted. She’d felt bad enough when they were just the hosts, but now they had names. They were real people—teens like her—and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen to them.
“I’ll ask,” she said finally. “But no promises. I can’t imagine Burke will be very accommodating.”
“Is that who’s in charge?”
“Lieutenant Christoph Burke. He’s overseeing this mission . . . whatever it is.”
“Trios military?” Nova asked.
Amber nodded.
“And you’re military?” Nova’s eyes skirted Amber’s frame, searching for ID tags, but the medical badge Amber wore was hidden from view beneath the haz suit.
“No, I’m just a medic. Burke pulled some Hevetz scientists onboard when we were tasked with picking up your crew. As well as my father. They’re old friends, I guess? I just got caught up in things.” Amber explained the Alternate Enrichment year quickly and how far off track her education had strayed in the past two months.
“So where are we now? Somewhere in the Trios, I hope?”
“Yeah. A research base. I don’t know exact details.”
“And you haven’t asked?” Nova looked at her incredulously.
“We only arrived yesterday. You woke up just hours after we got situated, and my key card only gets me to certain levels, so it’s not like I can waltz off to hunt down answers on my own. I still don’t understand why everything is being treated like a top secret operation. Then again, the Radicals have always been dramatic. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“The Radicals?” Nova let her foot fall to the ground and stared at Amber. “What the hell do the Radicals have to do with anything?”
“Burke’s entire crew seems to be made of Radicals. As far as I can tell, if they dissent, he gets them relocated to different units or—if he thinks they’re a liability—gets them discharged entirely. I’ve seen at least half the Hevetz scientists make the Radical salute to each other while passing in the halls. And Vasteneur called for Burke’s help with Black Quarry. He’s supposed to arrive in another week or so, so it’s safe to assume he’s a Radical, too.”
