by Carysa Locke
She smiled at him, grateful. “I miss her.”
“I know.”
The two of them shared a long look, and Mercy felt her grief soften and mellow. She squeezed his hand in wordless thanks.
“Now,” Cannon said, pulling his hand away, “if you don’t mind keeping that bit about Lilith and bloodlines to yourself, I don’t think the entire pirate population needs to know.”
Mercy laughed. “Afraid they’ll oust you as King?”
He snorted. “If only. No. I just think it’s wise for us to appear as united as possible right now. We don’t want any hint of divided loyalties, what with recent events.”
No. He was right, of course. The pirates were still feeling the sting of losing so many to the Alpha Queen. At the moment, they accepted Cannon as King, and Mercy as Queen. They didn’t need an excuse to look for cracks in their leadership. She thought of the Core, of Xavier and Wick. There were definitely those who would try to make a power play if they saw an opening.
“No one else needs to know,” she agreed. “I just wanted you to know, in case…” She stopped. In case what? She shrugged. “I would want to know, if it was me.”
“Mercy—”
Hey. It was Ghost’s voice on a broad thread. We found something. You guys need to see this.
Everyone converged onto the aisle Ghost and Declan were searching through. Another bench stood in the middle, piled with data crystals and hard copy. Ghost leaned over it, his hands braced against the table’s edge. Between the bracket of his arms sat a crystal, innocuous enough seeming.
“What is it?” Mercy asked after they’d all arrived. Reaper slipped in beside her. She brushed against his mind in a wordless greeting, and the soothing cold of him washed over her.
“This one doesn’t just hold reports and research,” Ghost said.
“What do you mean?” Feria asked.
His gaze flicked to her, but no sarcasm or scathing response was forthcoming. Instead, he picked up the crystal. It glinted faintly in the glow of the stasis lights lining the shelves around them.
“Vera, I’d like to show the room what’s on the crystal. Can you give me a data port?”
“Of course, Mateo.”
The top of the bench rippled, and a data port took shape. Ghost plugged in the crystal. A few seconds later, a holo projection appeared. Multiple files, each one marked with a unique data code. Ghost selected the first, and the holo projection morphed from a file list into a full rendering of a room with a young woman sitting in it.
“It’s a holo recording,” Mercy said. She stared at it. “Of the first Queen?”
“See for yourself.” Ghost waved a hand. The recording began to play.
Chapter Fifteen
The first thing Mercy noticed was how young the woman looked. Her brown skin was smooth and unlined, her face bright and open with eagerness, and something Mercy could only call innocence. She wasn’t much older than Max or Octavia. In the holo, color was muted. Time had worn away at the file and degraded a few fine details. But given how old it was, the integrity was stunning.
The second thing Mercy noticed was that the woman looked familiar. Something in the angle of her jaw, the line of her profile when she ducked her head, tucking a strand of dark hair behind one ear. It struck a chord deep within Mercy.
Without thinking, she stepped forward, hand outstretched. She had an overpowering urge to try and touch the image, as if it was a living, breathing woman. She curled her fingers in, pulling her hand back. Her throat tightened inexplicably.
This girl had lived nearly three hundred years ago, and yet Mercy looked into her face and saw a ghost.
“She looks like you.”
Mercy didn't turn at Cannon's words, spoken softly beside her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the holo.
“No.” She had to clear her throat. “She looks like my mother.”
Strange. This girl had been dead for centuries. Yet every time she moved it was mesmerizing. Every tilt of her head, the way her hair fell, the long, silky drape of it over one shoulder — all of it was so familiar Mercy felt transported. Only her eyes were different. Instead of the brilliant green Mercy knew, they were dark.
“It's not her,” Reaper said. The words were meant as both a warning and a reassurance, Mercy thought.
Cannon squeezed her arm. Of course, he would feel her longing and pain, seeing this image that looked so like her mother.
“I know.” Mercy cleared her throat again, folding her arms so she wouldn't be tempted to make a fool of herself and walk right into the holo. “It just caught me off guard.”
Over the years, she’d lost the image of her mother’s face. It had faded in her memory into a blurred version of itself, details far more lost to time than the degradation of this holo. Seeing this girl was like seeing a fresh image of her mother again. Unexpected, sad, and cherished all at once.
“I’d say this means you can definitely trace your ancestry right back to the first Queen,” Feria commented.
True. It wasn't something Mercy had ever wondered, but the resemblance was unmistakable.
“Fareena.” A man stepped into frame, addressing the girl. He was older, with white hair, and clean shaven. He wore some kind of uniform and held a datapad. Beside him hovered a medical drone with a tray of items, including several syringes. “I see you've read through all of the material and signed the agreement. But I just want to make one hundred percent sure you understand what's happening here today. You have agreed to become a test subject in a project we're conducting to further the capabilities of Talented soldiers. Correct?”
“Yes,” Fareena said, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously.
“If successful, you will be the first of several new units. Your abilities will be a unique subset of Talent currently without an equivalent. By default, you will occupy a place of authority, although you will still be answerable to the chain of command in the Ashir armed forces. However, you must understand there are no guarantees. There is a chance this won't work; a chance it will remove the Talent you currently possess, leaving you permanently head-blind. There is even a chance — a small one — that it could result in your death. Do you understand these risks as they have been outlined to you in the participation agreement?”
“I do.” Fareena's expression never changed. If anything, she looked even more eager.
“Do you understand what we will be attempting to do today?”
“You’re going to edit my genetic code and make my Talent more powerful.”
“That’s a highly simplistic and not entirely accurate summation, but I suppose given your basic education, it will suffice. One small correction: we are not making your Talent more powerful, but attempting to mutate it into an entirely new classification.”
“One that’s more powerful.”
The man’s mouth twitched. “Yes,” he said. “It will definitely be that.” He scrolled through something on the datapad. “I see here you also signed the non-disclosure agreement. I cannot stress enough the importance of following it. Consequences for failing to do so will be severe.”
“I understand, doctor.”
“Even should these experiments prove successful, you must not ever reveal what they entailed. To anyone.”
A hint of annoyance flashed across her face. “Yes, I know. Your paperwork stated all of this in detail.”
He lowered the datapad, and gazed at her with an expression full of superiority and condescension. “We just need to be sure you fully understand what you signed. A mistake that puts the entire experiment at risk would be unfortunate.”
“I’m not stupid. I read it. I signed it. Can we get on with this sometime today?”
“She is definitely related to you," Ghost said.
“Nice.” Mercy rolled her eyes at the faint chuckles and snickers from the others. "Yeah, yeah, so the temper runs in the family," she muttered.
In the holo, Fareena tugged uncomfortably at the medical gown she wore. Sh
e lay down on the bed, and a binding field snapped into place around her. She flinched, but settled quickly, as though her response had been due to nerves and not surprise. Fixing her stare above her, Fareena breathed slowly and evenly, her jaw tense. Whether anxious about what was about to happen, or uncomfortable at being restrained, Mercy couldn’t be sure. She definitely radiated determination.
“Test subject seven,” the doctor said as he moved to her side. The medical drone followed him, and he picked one of the syringes off the tray, scanning it with his datapad. “Fareena Dabiri, nineteen years of age, recorded as a telepath and telekinetic Talent, rating insignificant in both categories.”
Fareena’s nose wrinkled. “Is it really necessary to say that?” she asked.
“It is. We want clear records.” Unceremoniously, he jabbed her arm with the syringe. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your status, you know. You might even be thankful.”
“Thankful.” She stared at him with something close to fury. “I can’t even register with a battle unit. My Talent is considered too trivial.”
Smiling, he placed the now empty syringe on the tray.
“Yes. That’s exactly what makes you perfect for this. We’ve found that notable Talents do not react well to the change. Less powerful Talents have yielded more positive results, and—” he paused, as though hunting for the right words. “—a normal human with no Talent at all has the most negative response.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Fareena asked.
“The subject did not survive. But don’t worry. Our analysis gives you a seventy-eight percent chance of success, the highest yet.” He patted her hand. “In a few weeks, you might be commanding multiple battle units. You could even be leading the entire Talented corp.”
Shifting restlessly, she frowned up at him. “Am I supposed to be feeling anything yet?”
He chuckled. “Oh, no. That was merely a prep treatment to put your mind into a dormant state. While this is a non-invasive procedure, we’ve found Talented patients to be unpredictable.”
“What? No one told me that.”
“Not to worry. It will feel like falling asleep. When you wake, you’ll be a different version of you.”
“Wait!”
“Sleep well, Fareena. In three, two, one.”
Fareena slumped, her eyes slipping shut.
“This guy’s bedside manner is worse than Doc’s,” Ghost said.
No one laughed. There was something deeply disturbing at the core of what they were seeing unfold. Especially to the pirates, who viewed children and women as the most precious members of their society, to be protected at all cost.
As the holo progressed, the doctor gave Fareena two more injections, making notations on his datapad after each one.
They were waiting for something spectacular to happen, but the rest of the session was completely mundane. Eventually, Fareena woke up. The attending doctor asked if she was experiencing any headaches or other side effects of the treatment. She answered the questions, and the session ended. The holo skipped forward. Twice more, Fareena came in and was treated in the same manner.
“I thought Talent needed to develop over time,” Mercy said. “Doc said Talented babies develop it in the womb, and the connection to their mother is vital to the process.”
“Maybe it's different for an adult who is already Talented,” Feria said thoughtfully. “Or they are doing this over time. For all we know, these sessions could be taking place over months or even years.”
That was true. Mercy studied Fareena, trying to discern any changes that would tell them how much time was passing, but each time she was in the same medical gown, in the same sterile room.
“We tried something similar after our Queen died,” Feria continued, “but the experiments were never successful. I'd love to know the specifics of exactly what they're doing.”
“It's all redacted," Ghost said, tapping his datapad. “The project notes have generalities, but the specifics have been left out or removed.”
“They didn't want anyone repeating the experiments,” Cannon said.
The holo skipped forward again. Now, Fareena sat in a different room. No medical drone, no bed. Just Fareena, the doctor they'd already seen, and another man. Fareena sat in a chair, dressed in regular clothing and looking both excited and nervous.
On the other side of a partition, the newcomer sat in an identical chair. He wore a military uniform. It was close enough to the Commonwealth Navy design that Mercy took a closer look.
“Is that…the crest of the royal family?” she asked.
“It is,” Reaper said. “But before they were the monarchy, they fought in the Ascension Wars. The Ashir had an active military long before the formation of the Commonwealth.”
Of course. And they'd won the war with Talented soldiers.
"Fareena,” the doctor said, “on the other side of this wall is a young solider by the name of Kallio Venturi. We would like you to attempt to form a connection with him.”
Fareena fidgeted. “My telepathic range has always been limited to line of sight. With people I already know.”
“Yes, we know.”
“I thought this was going to give me Talent beyond telepathy.”
“Let’s just start here and see what happens.”
She took a deep breath and nodded.
Kallio looked nearly as young as Fareena. Brown hair, pale skin, a handsome enough youth, but with the fresh faced look of someone barely out of training. His eyes were a distinctive, familiar blue.
“One of the original Killers,” Ghost said, glancing at Reaper. “Why would they choose someone so dangerous for her to connect with?”
“They’re trying to create a Queen in part to control soldiers like him,” Reaper answered. “They want to know if they’ve succeeded.”
No one else spoke. They watched as Fareena's brows drew together. A few seconds later, surprise and sheer joy had her bursting into laughter. She clapped her hands together. “I did it! It worked.”
“Excellent. Now, please describe what he feels like.”
“I…don’t understand the question.”
“It’s simple. You’re connected. What does his mind feel like?”
She hesitated. “He’s thinking about his unit. They’re being deployed while he’s here.”
“Not his thoughts.” The doctor snapped the words, impatient. “Each mind should have a distinctive feel for you. His, mine. What does his feel like?”
A small silence. Fareena’s joy from moments before dimmed. “I don’t know,” she said finally.
“Hmm.” He made a notation on the datapad.
Anxious, Fareena sat forward in her chair. “But it’s good, right? My telepathy is stronger.”
“We already have powerful telepaths.” The doctor nodded his head at Kallio. “Venturi, you may go. Fareena, we’ll need to schedule some tests.” It was clear from his tone that he was disappointed. The doctor turned, his posture dismissive.
The Killer stood up from his chair.
“No, wait. I know I’m more powerful.” Fareena leapt to her feet. “Look, see?” She lifted her arms in a frantic motion, and the chair she’d been sitting in rose from the floor. “I never could have lifted that before. This is a success. I’m a success.”
“I’m sorry, but it isn’t the result we’d hoped for.”
“No! Give me another chance.” The chair crashed to the floor. “His mind feels…it feels distant.” It was clear she was desperate, grasping at anything. “But I can still reach it.”
Mercy knew exactly what kind of answer the doctor was looking for. That warm glow Talented minds emitted, but in a Killer’s case, it was cold. The connection and feedback a queen’s mind sought.
In the holo, the doctor sighed. He turned back to her, his posture just as condescending as their first session together.
“Fareena, I’m truly sorry.” His voice radiated impatience, nothing like true empathy. “We knew from the beginni
ng that there was a good chance this wouldn’t work out.”
“That’s not what you said.”
Kallio stepped between them on his way to the door, looking at neither of them, seeming oblivious or uncaring of the escalating emotional conflict.
Fareena’s hands clenched into fists. “You said there was a seventy-eight percent chance of success.”
“The odds were not in our favor, I’m afraid.”
“Try again.” The table in front of Fareena shook.
The doctor took a step back. “I’m afraid that’s not in the cards. The treatment has already taken you as far as it can—”
“Try again.”
The table rose into the air and smashed against the wall, missing the doctor by the smallest margin. He lost his superior attitude, flinching and cowering before he caught himself.
Fareena stalked toward him, and at the door, Kallio suddenly stopped. The Killer turned back into the room, and all of the hair rose along Mercy’s arms. Even in the faded coloring of the holo, she could see his eyes had gone icy blue.
“What’s happening?” Declan asked.
The holo was like watching half the story. But Mercy knew. Watching the change that came over Fareena and Kallio, she knew. “She’s claimed him. She’s a Queen, and she claimed him.”
In the playback, Fareena stopped right in front of the doctor. She didn’t look like that eager young girl anymore. Her eyes glinted, hard and predatory. Cold.
“Mine,” she said clearly. “He feels like he belongs to me.”
The doctor crumpled to the floor with no warning, no fanfare.
The holo abruptly skipped forward, and they were looking at a new room. Fareena was there, and so was Kallio. The doctor wasn’t. Instead, three strangers were with them. A woman and a man in military dress stood together, both older.
The third newcomer was positioned nearly off frame. He was to the left and slightly behind the others, barely visible.
“We’d like to put you with the Dragons, our most decorated company,” the woman said. “Do you think—” she gestured to Kallio “—you’ll be able to do this again?”
