Rebel's Consort - Phoenix Book 1 (12 page)
Aw, fuck. This intelligent being couldn’t be more wrong; mistakenly assuming his Roman numerals matched Analena’s, not that he didn’t wish it were true.
I don’t think so.
She does not please you
?
Oh, she’s perfect. There’s just no way I’ve any sign to match me to her. My brand was random. Forced.
Randomly given to others daily. For each day of the year. For every year that there have been executions among your species. Forced as the woman’s mark was forced.
Umm, yeah. He was arguing logic in a losing battle.
Physical identification is not a predominant indicator of counterparts. However, we considered the symbolism.
The Entity had a sense of humor. He wondered where they had learned that. He glanced down the tunnel, suspecting it had come from one of the kids.
You possess strengths to counter the female’s weaknesses, compatibility to augment her needs. And she for you.
A sneaking suspicion crept into Trace’s mind.
You sent me the dreams.
Though, he couldn’t contemplate how.
When the young matured, we sought her match, sought to evolve our nurture of her. Only her image was provided to you. Your mind evolved her status and worth in your consciousness.
Okay, so no mind-delivered porn. But this Entity had sought him out and targeted him. He felt rather miniscule on the evolutionary scale compared to a life-form that had not only protected Analena, but had also sought solutions to her happiness. Like a parent—no, a community. The operation of the Entity, its plural designation signaled a cohesive group, organized in thought and purpose.
Logical assessment of the Entity’s response helped to sweep back the knee-jerk reaction to the fact that he and Analena had been manipulated to satisfy some other beings’ dictate. The reality was more complicated, and he would readily admit that he no longer cared how she’d become so important to him, only that she had.
His feelings weren’t worth the waste of their time.
I need to understand how to help the organism interact with the boy to heal him.
The organism mimics what it knows. Rote repetition and memorization.
He couldn’t inject the nanites into Gar. The boy would die.
We can adjust for the
Startled, he realized he hadn’t delivered the thought. The Entity had predicted his concern and responded anyway. Okay, at least they were on the same page.
I need the steps to follow. I can’t jeopardize the child’s health.
He refused to risk Gar, and Analena would justifiably kill him.
We still exist in your test
?
Yes.
Apply both to the organ to be replicated. We will monitor and guide the progress. When the organism is prepared, we will control its extraction from the young’s body.
Then
?
Like the woman, let the organism perform its function.
The nanites would build a new eye. Stellar, if it worked.
Can the new organ be introduced without the nanites
?
Inadvisable. Once the recreation has occurred, the organism will bond with the young’s
Creating another Analena. Nothing about this seemed bad, unless something went wrong. Then, it would be a nightmare all over again.
Chapter 11
She choked down a bite of the mush and tried to smile.
“It’s pretty horrible, but Trace said no solids yet.”
“He doesn’t speak for me,” Analena said evenly, putting a little pleading into her look. “Stale pancake, anything?”
Hena gave her a frown and glanced over her shoulder to where Trace worked at another table with Aaron. “He hasn’t slept since he got here.”
Analena followed her gaze. Jars, pouches, and instruments littered the table. Muscles played beneath Trace’s shirt as he bent over a jar, intent on a pair of tiny tweezers with a magnification strip around his eyes. “What’s he working on?”
Hena lowered the straw for her to drink, a prerequisite sip implied.
When did these kids become negotiators? Analena raised an eyebrow, but Hena didn’t move. With no choice but to sip for information, she complied.
“He’s trying to figure out a way to fix Gar’s eye.”
Prepared to argue, she reconsidered with a flash of insight. Maybe he’d manufactured a composite to allow optical sensory ability. She tried to get a better look and winced. “Did he give me any drugs?”
Hena shook her head. “We told him you wouldn’t want drugs.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “He was here every time you awoke.”
“Any more jumping on me like the last time?” Analena smiled to ease her words. As shocking as it had been to see Trace on top of her, he’d taken pains to be gentle, and she hadn’t felt alarm. No, it was Hena’s offense at her probing that surprised her.
With a snort, Hena stood. “Not always. He’s stitched your wounds three times. The rest of the episodes, he coddled you like you used to do with Bits…and the rest of us.”
A brief smiled followed that remark, but she walked away. Analena felt a twinge of remorse at Hena’s words. Each child brought here experienced fear and terror in different ways. For each one, sleep and the dark brought on the worst of unseen nightmares.
The same inhuman treatment Gar had received characterized life in the cells for all of the kids. No offer of compassion, no humanity, and food and drugs rarely given to ease their suffering.
The only thing that calmed three-year-old Bits after her extraction was Analena curled around her. Quiet reassurances when the child had awakened screaming, delivered in consistent gentle touches, and tiny kisses to her head. The image of Trace holding Gar to his chest and the lingering warmth of his lips on her forehead battered hard against the fragile walls she had built around her emotions.
Distracted from her thoughts as Trace pulled the micro-strip off his head, she watched him run a hand through hair already standing on end and reach for a small vial of pills.
“What do you take those for?” she asked, keeping her tone low enough not to attract the attention of the others.
After a closed look over his shoulder, he responded. “Migraines, nothing that would impair my judgment.”
“Stop that.” She held out her hand and let out a harsh breath when he delayed in coming to her side.
Yet when he did, his face was so close she was tempted to stroke the thick, dark shadow of new growth at his jaw. Instead, she rested her hand on his forearm, a reassurance as much as an anchor to keep him from leaving.
“I’m sorry.” She squeezed hard as he started to shake his head. “Let me finish.”
Dark brown eyes, laden with the bruising of fatigue and concern, gazed back at her with a vulnerability and openness she wouldn’t have expected. “I take these kids seriously. You’ve done that as well.” When he tried to look away, she did reach to cup his cheek. “Whatever your baggage, we all have problems here. I think we need a truce. I’m not good at trusting someone my own age. But I trust you. Even if you did piss me off and lie to me in the hole.”
“If you think you’re my age, then you haven’t looked in the mirror in a long time, Angel.” The first hint of a smile split his face, not quite reaching his eyes, but enough she could feel a surge of the heat he’d sent her with his kiss in the tunnel. The memory warmed her cheeks, but the widening of his smile was worth the cost of embarrassment.
“I have a sensory deprivation strip in my quarters.” She gave one, not so subtle, brush of his whiskers with her thumb and dropped her hand. “You’re welcome to use it if it will help with the pain.”
He dipped his head and then looked back. “Thanks, the drugs take the edge off. They don’t always keep it back enough, though.”
Not in times of stress and exhaustion, though she didn’t think he’d appreciate her noting it. “What are you working on?”
He rubbed his hands over his face and leaned against the table. “I had an introduction to the life-form around the corner.”
“How—”
He cringed. “Bits evidently missed playing with it.” He held up his hand. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell, so just this once, can you agree to let this one go?”
Now he was negotiating with her for the kids, grand. “Go on.”
“I touched it.” He shrugged and looked back at the project on the other table. “The Entity talked to me.”
She couldn’t stop the drop of her jaw. Not because the life-form, his Entity, had interfaced with him. Heck, it interfaced with all of them. Granted, each child had a different experience and sensation from the connection. Even her interaction, which seemed the most complex in the form of full-color motion and scenes, didn’t involve actual discussion. “What happened exactly?”
“I—the fluid flowed up my arm, and then voices talked. In my mind.”
“About what?”
“They weren’t too happy at first. Figuring I’d hurt you because your blood was still on my clothes.”
He licked his lips and started another swipe through his tussled hair, but she caught his hand. “This can’t be that bad, trust me.”
“They gave me an option, for Gar.” He nodded to her arm. “Based on the nanites in your arm.”
“No.” She shook her head. “These things aren’t compatible with other human
Darker clouds mirrored in his expression. “I’m not going to put your kids at risk and I understand you’re in charge here.”
She pulled harder with her hand. “Truce, remember? I didn’t know if the friendly bowl of Entity mentioned all my—nuances.”
He closed his eyes for a second. “They—it—did. I’d already tested his DNA with a few of your components, once your arm started to regenerate. The Entity offered to join the soup and control the nanites.”
At the twitch of his arm, she realized she’d dug her nails into his hand and loosened her grip. “Sorry. How, exactly?”
Another rub at his face, and he shrugged again. “The fluid considers your nanites to be a rather primitive reconstruction of the bottom of their evolutionary chain. The Entity can modulate the rejection affects of the nanites’ design on other DNA. I still need to confirm the correct amounts and learn how to handle the next stages—if it’s even possible.”
“But the downside…what’s the process?” She tried to wrap her head around the scenario. Dizziness made it hard for logic to grab a foothold.
“Once the DNA is mixed with the nanites and Entity, the combination needs to be injected, in small amounts, into Gar’s good eye.”
“No.” All she could think of was the glazed, blind look the boy had when she’d found him. “That’s an unacceptable risk.”
“I understand—”
“It’s my choice.” Gar’s voice came from behind Trace’s back, and he winced, signaling his apology.
The boy moved to stand beside them. “It should be my choice. You promised.” He looked at Trace in defiance, his hands fisted.
“Gar, if this doesn’t work or something goes wrong, you could end up with no vision at all.” Analena clenched Trace’s hand tighter when he tried to pull back. She suspected he felt this was his fault. Maybe he had pursued the research without her input, but she couldn’t blame him for searching for options. The truce between them wouldn’t work if they both slunk back to their own corners. She looked back at him, holding firm. “Why do you have faith in this?”
Trace glanced over to the group and back. “Because the Entity told me it sent Radar to both of us, and you to me. If that’s not true, I’ll drop this.”
She opened her mouth. Air, not words, came out. She glanced at the desperate, fierce look on Gar’s face. “I had visions of each of the kids before Radar. He found me in Down Below, added me to his teams, and even showed me these caves so I could…exist farther away from the darkness and crowds. Once I connected with the fluid in the crystal, specific details appeared. Which children were at risk from the crystal and Radar’s information came to me almost synchronized. Aaron’s job, his sources for finding out about you, my first view of you, all came from my visions as well.”
Surprised at her openness and her admission of pre-knowledge of him, Trace forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand. They could deal with confessions of the soul later.
Gar stepped closer. “Please.”
Helplessly, she glanced back at Trace.
“Gar, Analena deserves time to consider this. Would you let us discuss this privately?” The request obviously wasn’t what Gar wanted to hear, but he released a heavy sigh and walked away.
“Tell me you’re sure this will work.”
“I can’t.” He shifted closer when she tried to look away. “He’s a child, but he’s been through hell, just like everyone else here. I don’t think the Entity would harm your kids; it’s bound to you and your happiness. Even so, doesn’t he deserve to have some say in his life?”
“He’s eight years old, Trace.”
“How old where you when they did this to your arm? Did you get a choice? Did you get any say in the things they must have done to you?”
Before she could answer, he leaned even closer. “If this works for Gar, consider what this means for the others, like Bits with her pain from the botched fluid extraction in her spine and her vertebrae damage. That will only worsen with age. Think of Hena’s leg and the issues the rest face.” He lifted their joined hands to shield his words from the kids. “They’ve seen your arm, how you’re healing. I understand why you might not have told them, but they aren’t afraid.”
“They deserve to be safe, Trace, not to feel like test subjects again.”
“The difference is choice, Angel.”
He was right. She’d seen the hope in Gar’s expression. She’d held the same hope for each of children she’d rescued.
“Tell me more about the process.”
He leaned his forehead against their hands and whispered what he knew.
